Chef Kunzi: Appetite For Production

Listen, dear reader: this space is not just some soapbox from which to hawk middle-of-the-road vanity publications to a public that is not at all asking for them. Oh no, my friends, it is so much more. Okay, that might be overselling it... It is more.

It is also a place where I can round up the best of the best of the folks who run in a particular artsy-flavored circle, an Algonquian Sidetable of scoundrels that is constantly endeavoring to dosomething.

Take one partcular bounder I know - Rick Kunzi, a former apartment-mate known for an incredible stereo and for shaking up an even better martini. We go back to the way-back on the banks of the Red Cedar River and the days of the Beirut Cup touch-football tournament of July 4th, early-2000-something, which saw one team besting another team while having firecrackers thrown at them from neighboring apartment balconies. Fine memories indeed and I'm glad we were drunk at the time because thinking about it now, it all seems rather insane.

Equally insane is the idea of a 23-year-old man-child proclaiming "I shall write a Civil War screenplay and make it a comedy!" but that is essentially what happened in the living room of a Jersey City apartment during an extended drunken writing-workshop with some other outstanding fellows who will be profiled at a later date. We drank, we wrote, we were all very sad. From that came Bayonets of Angst, a Civil War comedy which was immediately shelved as unsellable. 
Anyway, Rick's the kind of guy who gets things done, so I was delighted when he turned to me in Detroit on the evening of July 19, 2010, as the Tigers duked it out with the Texas Rangers and Tom McCartan duked it out with some nachos, and informed me he would like to adapt Bayonets of Angst: The Screenplay into Bayonets of Angst: The Stage Musical. Naturally, I was thrilled; I mean, there we were, top-deck behind home plate watching Miguel Cabrera go 3-for-6 with 2 home runs, a single, and a walk in the middle of what was to be the first of at least 4 consecutive seasons of complete dominance as the world's greatest hitter, the night air is warm, the food is flowing like wine, we're all Friends Forever and exchanging our Buddy-Bands with one another, and the producer ofBrunch: The Musical says he wants to put on your show? Amazing!

Also, we were drunk. I remember vividly because that game stretched out into a 5-hour, 14-inning affair—long enough for us to get bombed and then slowly sober up to a point of being hung-over by the time we lost to a Nelson Cruz dinger that scored future-MVP Josh Hamilton and handed Detroit their 6th loss in a row. But at least Brandon Inge was hit by a pitch and broke his hand in that game, so we can all smile about that, right? Such halcyon days they were.

Anyway, time passes, lessons are learned, drinking habits fluctuate...

I left Rick to the creative kitchen, and he cooked up what I can only call a feast for the senses, compressing a rambling, 3-hour movie blueprint turkey into a tight, multi-garnished and thoroughly-basted stage extravaganza replete with the gravy of his original songs - songs that move the story along in a way I could have never dreamed of. Ricky has a gift, and that gift is taking an idea and making sure it is puttin' on the Ritz. He's a doer, a mover, a shaker.

To wit: he shook this thing down this summer at the Ken Davenport 10-Minute Play Contest, where it was one of 10 finalists out of hundreds of submissions, and apparently blew everyone's minds. Now the next step is to get the whole thing put up for you, the people. And if I know you people, you want to see Abraham Lincoln cracking skulls and taking names. So let's rally our troops and tell the world we need to see this show. And it is a need. A yearning. A yearling. A doe. A deer. With these thoughts we be thinkin', we could watch our buddy Lincoln punch some moron in the brain.
Rick and fellow-producer Adam Barnosky are doing the heavy-lifting here, so I want you to send them cash and canned-goods. And if you can't be bothered to do that, I want you to send them General Mills UPC clippings and some coupons for a free Denny's Grand Slam breakfast. Those boys work hard and they need to eat, for heaven's sake! And they need to redeem those box-tops for their free Frute Brute t-shirts.

I'm going to do my part; if you're like me, you subscribe to the life philosophy of "If one is good, six are better." I defy you to tell me this attitude has never not served anyone well, and as such, I offer you the very thing you've been dreaming about as you skim over the ZeppaBlog out of courtesy and/or obligation: another blog.
Yes, to be found exclusively on the official Bayonets of Angst website,, these Blogs of Angst will offer you all-new adventures of your favorite Bayonets characters as they bumble their way to a flawed peace at the expense of hundreds of thousands of lives. And what glorious bumbling it shall be. All of this is to whet your appetite for the real deal—I want you to want to want more. Here take some home with you—no really, we'll never be able to eat all this. And as an appeteaser, I shall give you the first chapter here, before detouring you to the other one so we can get those traffic numbers up and prove to the world that the internet is still a viable thing to visit once, maybe twice a week.
Why shouldn't I have two blogs—where is it written that I can't? And if it's written, who wrote it? And to those who did write it, I ask, 'Who's watching the watchers?' You know? Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not making stew, am I right??

Who are the they, you ask? Well, who the hell are you. Wouldn't we all like to know. No, seriously, email me—I would really like to know. Or better yet, email Rick Kunzi and let him know of your support for the show—the guy is a champion, let him entertain you.