Rescue Me Anti-Blog

It has been some time since we spoke. If you remember I asked you, the reading public and fans of this lunacy to send me chocolate to keep me going. Any kind of chocolate but preferably dark with nuts. Which, coincidentally, is how I like my women.

Ah. Good to be back.

Your response was nothing short of pathetic.

I lie. The outpouring, the avalanche of love that was to come can best be described by referencing "MIRACLE ON 34 STREET," in particular the courtroom scene where the mailmen carry in bag after bag of letters to Santa thus helping to prove his existence. My chocolate was Fed-Exed, parcel posted and messengered over. It filled my mailbox. It moved into my apartment. It owes me some back rent. One chocolate package arrived by barge. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining but rather trying to explain my absence from cyberspace.

I ballooned to a high of 714 pounds last May.

Bedridden and forsaken by everyone except the most dedicated Chinese delivery guys, I had to use a stick to do things. Horrible things. Had to throw that stick out. I was unable to work and if truth be told, my entire role as Lou on last season's RESCUE ME was comprised of out takes from the first three seasons, brilliant editing and a Cosby I did in '88. Also some rare footage from an adult Danish film I made while a student called "STUBBY TAKES OVER." That is the Danish title. The English translation is unprintable.

I am financially ruined as my insurance coverage on RESCUE ME covers neither binge eating nor gluttony — and if you think those issues are not holding up current strike negotiations, you’re dead wrong.

I also was unable to view any of RESCUE ME Season 4 but it’s hard to view
anything when your eyelids weigh 11 pounds each. But I have heard rumblings. Distant sighs. Whispers in the night. Remind me to fix that bedroom window. I can say this to you with all the truth I can muster: The future of RESCUE ME promises to be the RESCUE ME you all fell in love with. A return to what made us a success, A return to our roots. A homecoming, An Emmy-quality... S--t, I just dropped Denis’ call. Anyway, I’m sure it will rock.

Speaking of DENIS LEARY, he is currently embroiled in a feud with his publisher over his book, an auto-biography entitled "I'M OK, YOU’RE AN A--HOLE." It’s basically an attempt to put his brilliant career in perspective, to illuminate the cultural contribution he has made to the nation, nay, the world. Problem is he handed in a page and a half long manuscript. With pictures. Lots of pictures. And they want cuts.

PETER TOLAN is confined to a home for the criminally insane.

CALLIE THORNE is doing research with the firemen of New Orleans. One in particular. Very deep research. Enough said.

MIKE LOMBARDI, STEVEN PASQUALE AND DANIEL SUNJATA are currently touring the south in a bus and truck production of THE THREE SISTERS. Ticket sales are sluggish as they refuse to shave their legs. A theater critic in South Carolina on opening night proclaimed he had "watched it through a veil of tears." His body was found in a swamp three days later.

ANDREA ROTH is confined to The Ontario home for criminally insane women. Work it out girl, we need you back.

ADAM FERARA, after years of debilitating pain to not only himself but to those around him, had his comedy removed. He is resting comfortably in a private clinic outside Baltimore.

LENNY CLARKE, in an attempt to ride out the strike, entered an all you can eat buffet restaurant in Des Moines, Iowa, on the night of Dec. 3.

Well, that is a brief look at what we’ve been up to. We are all awaiting a call back to work. But to be honest, since our neighbors THE SOPRANOS have wrapped their final season, there have been a lot of bodies turning up in our fire trucks and I’m not going anywhere near the place until the last one is re-assembled, bagged and taken away. And one last thing about them-who leaves their Christmas decorations up all year? What kind of people are these? There, I said it. Good riddance.

Let me tell you all before you hear it in the press: Callie Thorne (Girls Gone Wild) has kept me captive for the past few weeks in order to muscle in on my lucrative anti-blog business. Her henchmen abducted me at my favorite diner, which is bad enough, but I had pie coming. I was blindfolded and driven to a remote location by thugs who acted like they had never even heard of pie. Once inside the stately old Victorian hideout, I was tied to a large bed with a set of silken ropes and laid upon the 600-count sheets, all the while thinking that black-market sex traders had abducted me. My hopes were dashed, however, when Callie entered and gave a rambling, slurred speech from behind a handheld mask, which she dropped halfway through.

The bed faced a huge bay window and had magnificent views of the gardens and the mountain beyond. The day usually started with a continental breakfast, a sponge bath and a quick rollover to check for bedsores. After a long nap, lunch was served, usually something simple like soup and a sandwich. In the afternoon I was drugged and then visited by a squirrel I named Buck because of his big teeth. Buck and I would chat or watch Springer, and sometimes he'd bring his sitar and we'd sing old Beatles songs until dusk. An old man claiming to be Uncle Remus would collect Buck around then to bring him back to the magic castle they both lived in. I say "claiming" to be Uncle Remus because Uncle Remus was black, wasn't he?

My escape was weeks in the planning and employed every fiber of my mental and physical being, which is probably why I can't remember any of it. I do remember that when it was over I woke up in the back of a Hostess delivery truck smeared with chocolate and wearing a woman's housecoat. After two days I left the truck. I'd like to say thank you to Stinky Pete, who is homeless and someone you can trust on a milk run.

This kidnapping is just the latest act of retribution by the cast for me writing these things. They are incensed that I tell the truth about what really happens off camera on our show. Denis Leary (Ishtar) is, as expected, the angriest. He has taken to collecting deer ticks from Connecticut and handing them over to our wardrobe department, who in turn sprinkles them on my clothes. Jack McGee ("Old Men Gone Wild") is the only one who'll help me pull them off, and that's only because he likes to eat them. The crew is also on board this cruel ship. They made copies of my trailer key and on days when we shoot big crowd scenes — like the funeral last week, oops! — they hand them out to all the extras and tell them I have the only working toilet. It has left me with no other choice but to wear my fireman's mask and tanks at all times, a real drag when it's been so hot out.

And so, dear readers, I announce with great sadness that this is my final anti-blog. Someone may take over this spot, or not. It is not an easy job, and I have done my share. There is, however, a little deal I would like to put forward. I will write more if you all prove to me that you really want me to. That would mean mailing to the following address any candy (preferably chocolate, dark with nuts), baked goods, fudge, etc., that you can get your hands on, although homemade would be best. It is in your hands, people, and I couldn't be more serious. Let's see what you got.

John Scurti
c/o Apostle Pictures
568 Broadway, Suite 301
New York, New York 10012

I, John Scurti, recently had the opportunity to visit the set of Rescue Me in New York City to chat with one of its stars, John Scurti, who plays Lt. Ken (Lou) Shea, a grizzled FDNY veteran and best friend to Tommy Gavin, played by Denis Leary.

Me: Well, good morning, and the first thing I feel I must comment on is how much thinner and younger you look in person.

Him: Right back at ya, pal. And just to get it out of the way, "Lou” is short for lieutenant, and that’s why he’s called that. His real name is Kenny Shea. It confuses a lot of people and I’m tired of explaining it to those moro… to the fans.

Me: So what’s it like working with Denis-

Him: I’ll tell you what it’s like. It’s like finding a big hornet’s nest and throwing it in a burlap bag and then tying the bag over your head. And the hornets are smoking.

Me: You know you said that out loud.

Him: Did I? I gotta stop doing that. It’s great. He’s great.

Me: One of the things that critics have noted is-

Him: Are those my shoes? Are you wearing my shoes?

Me: No… I assure you, these are my shoes.

Him: I have a pair just like them, and I can’t find them. Explain that.

Me: I… these are mine, really. Can we move on?

Him: If you need shoes that bad I can get you some from the wardrobe truck. Of course, you can always try one of the many charities out there, seeing as you don’t like to buy things. Ever thought of that? Walking into a store and buying shoes?

Me: What did you do in terms of research when you realized you’d be playing a member of the FDNY? What was your approach, if any?

Him: Like most actors, I was interested in getting it right. Knowing that what you do and how you behave on the screen is going to be watched by lots of real firemen around the country and judged not only by them but by everyone. How would you jump off the truck when you get there, what exactly are the tools that a lieutenant would be carrying, what is the behavior of a guy like Lou at a real fire? That’s what was really important to me.

Me: Did you spend a lot of time at a particular house or with a particular crew to learn all that?

Him: The problem was that they know you’re an observer, some actor on a TV show, and my fear was that I wouldn't be getting the truth but rather what they wanted me to see. That was the real reason I started to set fires and then hiding and watching — that way you get a true view of how it all unfolds.

Me: I see. For how long did that last?

Him: It’s an ongoing process.

Me: I also understand you take great interest in the outer layer of your character-

Him: Yeah. Once we had our first table read of the pilot, I looked around and on some level said, “How is Lou different from these good-looking guys?” The answer was not very. I always try to create a character that is memorable and who stands out. That’s when I decided to put on 40 pounds and age myself 20 years. It just felt right.

Me: There has been a lot of talk, particularly among your parents, that you’ve been overlooked by the Emmys for a best-supporting-actor nomination. Any comment on that?

Him: It would be a shame if something happened to their headquarters.

Me: Something… like a fire?

Him: [Shrugs]

Me: Kind of like what just happened to the Sopranos studio? A seven-alarm blaze in the middle of the night that consumes everything?

Him: In television, anything is possible.

Me: What are you planning for the off-season?

Him: Well, I usually take a few weeks off to relax and then go right into rehearsals with the Bolshoi. We have a great winter season planned, and I will be playing the role of Giant Mouse No. 3 in The Nutcracker.

Me: Well, thanks for your time and best of luck with everything.

Him: You’re not going anywhere until I get the damn shoes back.

** Writer’s note: At this point in the interview, Mr. Scurti became violent and tried to remove my shoes. When that attempt failed, I was lit on fire. On the advice of counsel, that is all I am permitted to say.

Editor's note: All of the comments expressed in this blog are purely the product of John Scurti's overactive imagination and do not necessarily have any basis in reality.

Our program, FX's Rescue Me [Tuesdays at 10 pm/ET], is now made possible with help from The Chubb Group of insurance companies. Thanks also to Jack Daniels, Trojan-brand prophylactics and the makers of Vagasil for stepping up with some much-needed funding. Sony Pictures Television has for the time being stopped from pouring perfectly good money into Rescue Me. Who can blame them? Season 1 and 2 DVD sales and rentals can’t even find the toilet, let alone be in it. How will this affect our show? In this week’s episode, my character, Lou, has safe sex with an ailing woman while they discuss their HMOs — drunk as skunks. So there. The only recent bit of good news was that Susan Sarandon’s guest-starring on our show actually boosted our numbers with Republican viewers across the country. Thank you, President Bush.

The feud with our neighbors — the cast of The Sopranos — grows worse. They kidnapped Mike Lombardi’s (Probie) mom (Mrs. Lombardi) and the very next day stole his lunch money. She was released after we sent over some liquor but she refused to leave, saying she has so many more to cook for over there. They took a few shots at Jack McGee (Chief Reilly) the other night, but that’s what you get for rooting through other people’s dumpsters. Worst of all, they muscle their way into our rehearsals and after we’re done say stuff like, "What... you gunna do it like dat?" Or "I got more talent in my friggin’ ass bone than this whole friggin’ cast!" Denis Leary (Flashdance) is fit to be tied. If it weren’t for his crocheting we’d be at war. And to my cast mates who want a war I say this: "We bring hoses and trucks and axes, and they bring guns. We bring ropes and buckets and saws, and they bring guns. We bring ladders and walkies and helmets and they... ya’ know... the gun thing."

On a personal note, I am now working with a personal trainer, Vlad. Surrounded by so much beauty on the show, I thought it was high time for some self-improvement. We had our first session today and I passed out while stretching, which Vlad says is not uncommon for a little crybaby girl like myself. (How Vlad, that old warhorse, got past Nuremburg is beyond me.) He revived me and we finished the hour, but my question for all of you legal eagles out there is this: Is it possible to have a personal trainer arrested on attempted-murder charges?

Editor's note: All of the comments expressed in this blog are purely the product of John Scurti's overactive imagination and do not necessarily have any basis in reality.

It’s official: Nationwide, more Americans are struck by lightning on Tuesday nights from 10 to 11 pm than are watching FX's Rescue Me. This week’s episode, "Torture," was directed by Jace Alexander (Heaven's Gate). Jace has been working a lot in commercials lately and is a great guy as long as he keeps up with his meds. Speaking of directors, our own Peter Tolan is missing and presumed gambling. If anyone sees him, please give us a shout.

Callie Thorne's trailer is rocking again. Callie, who winters in Port St. Lucie, Florida, with the New York Mets, sure gets lots of company — she has lots of fans. Men fans. Lots.

I, John Scurti (Lawrence of Arabia) had a great scene in this episode with Denis Leary (The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman). What’s great is that he had a booger in his nose the whole time we were shooting it, and no one told him. See if you can spot it — right nostril. Denis’ son, Jack, is visiting the set this week because his school is on break. (Since when do juvenile-corrections facilities have "breaks"?) Anyway, my Zippo is missing, Mrs. Lombardi's pearl earrings have disappeared, and the caterer "can't find" 40 pounds of chuck steaks. I’m just saying.

Tom Houghton, our director of photography, showed up for work again in his wife’s clothes. He says it’s a midlife thing, but the sad reality is that he is now almost completely blind and they are both size 6.

The cast of The Sopranos films their show right next to us here in Queens and have taken to randomly shooting at us. We thought they were blanks until they killed one of our grips. That's the last time I ever get their Frisbee off our roof.

Editor's note: All of the comments expressed in this blog are purely the product of John Scurti's overactive imagination and do not necessarily have any basis in reality.

The ratings are in for the season premiere of Rescue Me [Tuesday at 10 pm/ET on FX] and I for one am dusting off my old audition monologues. Denis Leary (Tommy) spent all last night trying to squeeze back into his ladybug costume from A Bug's Life In the New York City tristate region, we were clobbered by The Uncle Floyd Show, a 36-year-old freakfest of a program that is shown on cable access. Mannix reruns killed us in the South. In the Midwest we simply did not register a viewing audience. In the West and Southwest we split a three-way tie for last with reruns of Dark Shadows and, again, damn it, Mannix. We did strong numbers in the Quaker community, but they are forbidden from owning or watching television. If not for a certain "Samuel the Mischievous," we’d have died there, too.

Bad omens abound. [Director] Peter Tolan has ordered construction of a 25-foot razor-topped fence around our set, ostensibly to keep his horses in, but there are those among us who believe it's to keep us from getting out. Jack McGee (Chief Reilly) made the mistake last night of bedding down in their hay pile and was almost nibbled to death. A very drunk, 665-pound Lenny Clarke (Uncle Teddy) crashed a golf cart onto our set in Midtown yesterday and demanded to play through. Just to quiet those Japanese businessmen he was with, we said yes. (I don’t think he’s even on the show anymore.) Callie Thorne's (Sheila) cow gave birth to a calf with two heads — bad enough, but one of them looks just like Mike Connors (aka Mannix). And Andrea Roth (Janet) had to be sedated after seeing a vulture hovering over our production. Turns out it was a kite. She is resting comfortably.

I would also like to take this opportunity to get a message of love out to one of our writers, the talented Evan Reilly. The message is this: We are all in some way fans of public nudity, but dude... people work here, and we also have to eat here. OK, pal?

In an effort to stop our ratings plummet, [producer] Kerry Orent thinks we should add Imperial storm troopers to the show. Now, legal issues aside, this concept in itself raises what I think are just too many problems. First of all, it would confuse the nine viewers we’ll have left at that point. And would they have to fight fires? Could we firefighters get cool guns like they have and, if yes, who would we shoot? The storm troopers? We got no beef with them. I’ll keep you posted on this one.

A sneak peek at Episode 2 would normally go here, so to keep tradition alive, here goes.

Jack (James McCaffrey) comes home early to find Mr. Roper (Denis Leary) in bed with Chrissy (Charles Durning). I’d give more details but word has just reached me that Peter Tolan has armed the fence with what appear to be 12 heavily armed “security officers” and is muttering about "taking it all down with me." So, until next time...

Editor's note: All of the comments expressed in this blog are purely the product of John Scurti's overactive imagination and do not necessarily have any basis in reality.

We're back on the streets of NYC shooting our third season of Rescue Me [premiering May 30 at 10 pm/ET on FX] after a few months off, and there's lots of catching up to do.

Denis Leary (Tommy Gavin) received an honorary doctorate degree from Emerson College last winter and now insists we all call him "Dr. Leary." In spite of this, he still can't tell me with any certainty whether this is a pimple or a boil on my ass. He also has been making lots of progress with his screaming coach and on a windless day it's now possible for him to yell to his kids to feed the horses and get to bed — impressive, as we're in Harlem and they're in Connecticut.

Jack McGee (Chief Reilly) is in from L.A., where he lives in the hills with his wife, their dogs and a few coyotes. Once he arrives here to shoot a season, he is homeless. What I mean by that is he lives on the streets. If it's very cold out he'll go to a shelter, but he is reluctant to do so since last time he had his AARP card stolen. (He claims he can't find a place that he likes, but we all think he's just a tightwad.) On hot days when he wanders onto set overly ripe, we all scrub him with wire brushes and then shoot him with the fire hose. He screams bloody murder and bleeds a lot, but it's all good fun and absolutely necessary. After all, this ain't Deadwood, pal.

Daniel Sunjata (Franco) is still reeling from the lost lives of his last six girlfriends. They have all succumbed to spontaneous human combustion, a very rare condition that causes the victim to suddenly erupt into flames. There's nothing left of these poor girls but some molten jewelry and the occasional diaphragm. Daniel has some scenes with Susan Sarandon coming up, and the producers have decided to have a bucket of sand nearby... just in case.

Mike Lombardi (Probie) is walked to work each day by his mother. And although they feed us well here, she insists on making him a bologna sandwich, which she accompanies with an apple, a Yodel or Ring Ding, and a juice box. Michael is 32.

Steven Pasquale (Sean) has had a very busy off-season, acting and singing all over the place. He's also just closed on a new condo downtown — a beautiful ground-floor, two-bedroom unit with 15-foot ceilings that, sadly, he just learned, was built on an old Negro burial ground. Now he is in a battle with the city, the NYC preservation society and the ghost of a 198-year-old black woman named Hattie, who insists on crawling in bed with him at night and reciting her glory days with the Underground Railroad.

[Director] Peter Tolan has also arrived from California, and due to a fear of flying and of train or car travel, is contractually driven across the country by a team of Arabian horses whom he beats mercilessly. Most of his scripts are written while they are stopped to drink. Otherwise, Peter claims, his hands shake too much (yeah — glug-glug-glug). Once on set he also beats us mercilessly and allows us to eat only after the horses have.

John Scurti (Lou)... well, that would be me, and to be honest, I'm just glad to be still around after eating my own weight in shrimp dumplings and crab cakes at last season's wrap party. Plus, with the open bar... well, it became a police issue, one I'm glad is finally resolved. And as court-ordered, in this public forum, I apologize to two of our producers, Tom Seletti and Jim Serpico (both completely bald), for playing their heads like bongo drums for three hours.

As for Rescue Me's third-season premiere episode, it sucks. First of all, the show is now animated, badly. Remember the first Simpsons episodes? The ones that look like cave drawings? We only wish ours looked that good. Peter Tolan is talking of building a land bridge to Korea so he can meet and then beat up the animators. Anyway, if you're not doing anything else, tune in just to see what a disaster we've become.

Editor's note: All of the comments expressed in this blog are purely the product of John Scurti's overactive imagination and do not necessarily have any basis in reality.