"Then," he recalled, "a chubby guy in a khaki blazer and stonewashed jeans barged into the room without knocking. He stuck out his chest and threw his arms skyward like an Olympic gymnast.
"'A 10! A perfect 10, baby!' he declared.
"My moment of glory -- ruined by the company's retarded janitor.
"Mirella stood up and introduced him. He was Bingham Ray, the president of United Artists and a well-respected cult-figure within New York film circles...
"'Dave's a writer,' Mirella explained. 'He's the guy behind Living off Interest.'
"'Right, right,' said Bingham, looking me up and down. I was trying to make eye contact, but he was staring at my hair as though it represented something more anthropologically revealing than a tangle of spikes and highly-flammable styling product. He wouldn't stop. 'Great hair, man. Better than mine!' He yanked off his baseball cap and displayed a pate of thinning hair. Was I supposed to feel bad for a balding guy who got to run United Artists? He was standing there sizing me up, running his fingers over his scalp. The room went silent.
"He grinned. 'But I got a great ass!' The president of United Artists turned around, lifted his blazer, and bent over..."
["It might be tough getting Bingham to back your movie," Kalstein was later told." "Why?" "He hates movies about rich and beautiful people."]