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By David Goodman

Oct. 22, 1999

Dear Button,

Things down in the "South Park" offices have been hectic. But we have had time for a couple small excursions. Trey wanted to see Cirque du Soleil. Have you ever seen it? Here's how it works: The lovely and talented Jennifer calls William Morris. William Morris calls Cirque VIP, and then blah blah Hollywood handshake blah, next thing you know four of us are sitting fifth row in the big yellow-and-blue tent on the pier in Santa Monica. And of course it's all fantastic, the tumblers all hit their marks and the juggler doesn't drop his balls (he went up to seven). But what really sent it over the top was the music being played live. Total blowout -- especially the male singer, whose falsetto fooled us into thinking he was a she. Then, after a couple of numbers he dropped out of the higher registers and into his wheelhouse (as they say in baseball) and we all nearly burst into flames. As Trey said after: "It's good to have something kick your ass once in a while."

The only drawback I could see was that they didn't serve alcohol in the VIP tent. I mean, Hey, thanks for the free souvenir program, fella, but where's the bar? So we shot up to the beach-house bar and each put away two fingers of Glenfiddich for courage. It went down so well, we went back during intermission. The other drawback was the clown contingent. I mean, it is a Cirque, but enough with the zany. There was one clumsy and awkward guy who wore glasses and looked like an aging man-child clown, if that makes any sense. He would get very pleased with himself in a disarming, childlike way and make an attempt to speak through the megaphone, but all that would come out was a breathy giggle. Tres humorous. I even thought of being him for Halloween, but then there would only be me and three other people who got it. So I think I will go as a naughty nurse.

What are you going to be for Halloween? I always find Halloween an interesting night for revelation. To some degree, what you are for Halloween represents some side of you that you want others to know about, but are afraid to expose directly. Halloween is just big excuse night. "I'm only dressed like a dominatrix because it's Halloween!" You hear that a lot during the evening. On the other hand, I went as a Mormon last year, so forget the whole theory.

We went to the 7th Annual Diversity Awards on Tuesday night. Holy shit. It was not cool. OK, so I've been to awards shows. I even endured James Cameron thanking every single fucking person who worked on "Ti-Snore-ic" at the Producers Guild Awards. (The only thing that kept me from killing myself was the fact that I had just met Clint Eastwood.) But this one ... The first award speech consisted in large part of a paean of gratitude to Anheuser-Busch for sponsorship. Then, the next speaker (a Native American) went on to decry the rampant alcoholism among the Indian population. You make the call.

Next page | George Clooney wants to take Trey out for his 30th birthday