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National Gorilla Suit Day (1/30/08)

2012-01-15T00:23:00.001-08:00

Under normal circumstances, we'd be spending today celebrating National Gorilla Suit Day with millions of others. It's a day dedicated not only to simian impersonation, but also to the work of Don Martin -- also known as Mad Magazine's "Maddest Artist" -- who created the holiday.

Unfortunately, Mr. Martin's widow has requested that the holiday go unrecognized this year. Far be it from us to override Mrs. Martin's wishes, but for those who grew up with his cartoons, the chance to celebrate the man who created such characters as Fester Bestertester and Captain Klutz is irresistible. From 1956 to 1988, hardly an issue of Mad went by without Martin's cartoons, always accompanied by his trademark sound effects, ranging from "Fagroon Klubble Klubble" (to represent a food market falling down) to "Stoopft!" (the sound of a man in a bird suit crashing to the ground).

So what are we to do? While we'd never want to deny the Martin family the right to celebrate this day in their own way, we also feel a need to commemorate it -- somehow. Our best solution? Perhaps either a day duck hunting or, better yet, a fine meal at a fancy restaurant.

Suggested Sites...

Don Martin Shrine - posters, galleries, and biography.
Don Martin Dictionary - every sound effect used by the Master, from "Aaagh!" to "Zzz Glap!"
Salon People: Don Martin - obituary for Mad-man.
Mad Magazine - official site for Martin's longtime home.
TV Squad: National Gorilla Suit Day - history of the holiday -- with video of the ultimate celebrators: The Nairobi Trio.

What Do You Get for the Man Who Knows Everything? (12/14/06)

2012-01-15T00:15:00.000-08:00

You'd probably never predict it, but one of the things we love to do at the Spark is translating the works of Medieval French writers. One of our favorites is Michel de Nostredame, aka, Nostradamus. Imagine our surprise, then, to come across this particular quatrain:

When the bird has devoured the cat,
And the ass has trampled that big thing with the long nose,
Someone in a cube of metal and fabric
Will write a paean to me on my birthday.

Well, with that hanging over our heads, how could we not celebrate? Mike (as we like to call him) earned his living as a pharmacist, but became known for his prophecies that foresaw everything from Napoleon to the hula hoop with startling accuracy (or not, depending on who you talk to). Regardless, Mike, we wish you a happy 503rd birthday! We'd have gotten you a present, but you would have known what it was before even unwrapping it -- and we hate that!

Suggested Sites...

Nostradamus Index - details on the life and prophecies of Michel de Nostredame.
How Stuff Works: Nostradamus - takes a look at the pro and con views of the French seer.
James Randi Educational Foundation - promoting critical thinking by providing reliable information about the paranormal and supernatural.
Morgana's Observatory: Prophecies of Nostradamus - examines many of the prophecies and hoaxes attributed to him.
Skeptic's Dictionary: Nostradamus - offers a jaundiced view of Nostradame's prophecies.

Archived under: Anniversaries, Asteroids, Astronomy, Comets, Disasters, Mysteries, Russia, Science, UFOs, Weird Stuff

Open Up That Golden Gate (5/28/07)

2009-04-03T02:17:00.000-07:00

It's one of the most photographed things on Earth and instantly identifies San Francisco, so as we note its 70th anniversary, here are eight things you might not know about the Golden Gate Bridge.

It isn't gold at all; it's International Orange.
It was opened to automobiles when President Franklin Roosevelt pressed a telegraph key in the White House.
On its 50th anniversary, so many people crowded onto it that the span actually flattened.
It is estimated that someone jumps off of the Bridge every 15 days, almost always facing the city.
The Bridge's main cables each contain 25,572 separate wires and weigh 11,000 tons.
The concrete used in the construction could build two 10-foot-wide sidewalks from Chicago to Omaha.
High winds have closed the Bridge five times.
Each day, tidal flows send 390 billion gallons of water in motion under the Bridge.

The Man Who Invented Television Comedy (5/14/07)

2009-04-03T02:15:00.000-07:00

The 20th century saw artists who broke the rules of what had gone before. In art, there was Picasso; in music, it was Igor Stravinsky; and in television, Ernie Kovacs changed the medium forever. Kovacs began his all-too-short career in the early 1950s, and soon saw opportunities for the new technology that no one else did. His style was eclectic, mixing sophisticated references with quick sight gags. Kovacs would try anything, whether it was spending $50,000 for a 6-second sight gag, doing an entire show with no dialogue, or creating performance art with the Nairobi Trio. Even though he began appearing in movies, he never abandoned television, innovating and expanding what could be done. Kovacs was killed in a car crash in 1962, and his influence has been seen in the work of such personalities as Steve Allen, David Letterman, and the casts of "Saturday Night Live."

Beware the Sockless Menace! (5/8/07)

2009-04-03T02:12:00.000-07:00

One of humankind's greatest achievements is the sock. It comes in a variety of sizes, colors, and shapes, all of which are dedicated to the task of keeping our tootsies toasty. As with most advancements of civilization, though, someone usually comes along to throw a monkey-wrench in the works. In this case, it's the (no doubt well-meaning) folks who have brought us "No Socks Day." No socks!? Are they crazy? Sure, they say it's "to give you more of a sense of freedom," but we know what its real intention is: it's a plot by Communists or aliens -- or someone -- to get us to keep our feet unprotected so that we all catch colds or step on rusty nails or... something. We're no fools, though: Come May 8, we'll be wearing an extra pair of socks in order to thwart their dastardly plan. No socks? They might as well tell us to come to work in pajamas, or to drill holes in our heads.

Roger Ebert's Overlooked Film Festival (4/25/07)

2009-04-03T02:10:00.000-07:00

Around the world every year, thousands of films are produced. Some are hits, some are flops, but there are still hundreds and hundreds of pictures that are ignored, forgotten, or just plain overlooked. That's where Roger Ebert comes in. Since 1999, Ebert -- playing off his decades of television film reviews -- has taken over a small theatre in Champaign, Illinois and shown overflow audiences the movies they missed. While the definition of "overlooked" might be somewhat strained for Ebertfest ("Patton," "La Dolce Vita," and "2001: A Space Odyssey"?), filmgoers will feast on such rarities as "Sadie Thompson" and "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls" (with a screenplay by an unknown scriptwriter named... Roger Ebert). Though Ebert's health has not been the best of late, he'll attend this year's festival (beginning with today's screening of "Gattaca"), if only from the audience. So for Ebert and his movie feast, we give a hearty "two thumbs up."

Raise a Stein to the Craft Brewers! (4/18/07)

2009-04-03T02:09:00.000-07:00

Humans have been brewing beer for over 8,000 years. The basic ingredients of water and grain haven't changed, but the past few decades have seen the mass production of barley soda give way to artisanal brews, hand-crafted in flavors from sweet to bitter and all points in between. Today's tastes include ingredients as diverse as chocolate, corn grits, and apples. But no brew -- no matter how tall or frosty -- is perfect, so this weekend, hundreds of microbrewers will converge on Austin, Texas, for the annual Craft Brewers Conference to enjoy four days of seminars (and hospitality suites) all in the name of building a better beer. The days when Grandpa had a still in the cellar to foil the authorities are long gone, now replaced by friendly brewpubs where, even if everyone doesn't know your name, they'll still serve you a cold mug of suds and listen to your troubles.

And Now, A Man Who's Turning 60 Today: David Letterman! (4/12/07)

2009-04-03T02:07:00.000-07:00

TV was different in 1982. Most stations signed off at midnight, and night owls had little to watch. But in February 1982, "Late Night with David Letterman" premiered. Viewers willing to stay up past 12:30 a.m. were confronted with odd characters doing strange things and a host who wore suits of Velcro, sponges, and Rice-Krispies. Shows were done from hotel rooms or turned upside-down. Dave argued with guests or brought estranged couples together. There were Top Ten Lists, Stupid Human and Pet Tricks, things crushed by a steamroller or thrown off of buildings. NBC was never quite sure of how to deal with Dave and his crew, and after an epic battle with the network, he took his show to CBS, where he's remained since 1993. Johnny Carson considered Dave to be his successor as the King of Late Night. And so on this, Dave's 60th birthday, we take a moment to wake the kids and phone the neighbors to wish him Happy DA Birthday VE.

Have Fun at Work: One Day Only (4/5/07)

2009-04-03T02:06:00.000-07:00

We've heard that "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," which makes us wonder if there's really a way to combine work and fun. No one wants to do drudge work, but there are some jobs -- brain surgeon, airline pilot -- that you really don't want to be performed by some clown. So where's the middle ground? That happy medium that allows us to be productive (and keeps our bosses happy), and keeps our jobs from being something we dread? Fortunately, there are actually people whose job it is to devise solutions to dilemmas like this. Not only have they declared April 5 National Fun at Work Day, but the whole week of April 1-7 is Laugh at Work Week. We can't guarantee that your boss will approve your request to spend the day throwing pies in your pajamas, but it just might help lighten him up.

Walking on Air (3/26/07)

2009-04-03T02:04:00.000-07:00

Acrophobics, beware! March 28 is your worst nightmare come true, for today marks the opening of the Grand Canyon Skywalk, the highest man-made structure ever built. The Skywalk sits higher than the Taipei 101 building; higher off the ground than three Empire State Buildings or four Eiffel Towers. So high that one has to wonder if even Superman could leap it in a single bound. And the worst part? The only thing separating those who dare to venture out on the catwalk suspended nearly a mile above the Canyon floor is a thin sheet of clear Plexiglass. Oh, sure, they say it'll hold the equivalent of 71 747s, but who wants to take the chance? The idea of watching helicopters fly under our feet gives us the willies. While it may seem tempting, unless we suddenly develop an uncanny ability to float in midair, we'll stick to terra firma.

The Shot Viewed Round the World (3/21/07)

2009-04-03T02:03:00.000-07:00

Murderers don't like witnesses; there's something about homicide that brings out the loner in people. But an attempted murder on the evening of March 21, 1980, wasn't like most shootings: this violent act had 300 million witnesses. Ruthless Texas oilman J.R. Ewing was gunned down and left for dead by a person, or persons, unknown in his Dallas office. The crime captured the world's attention for eight months as fans and armchair detectives around the globe tried to answer the burning question: Who shot J.R.? Was it Sue Ellen, J.R.'s long-suffering wife? Was it Bobby, his brother? Or did his mother, Miss Ellie, finally reach the limits of her patience? When the answer finally came in November, 41 million Americans were interested enough to give the show the then-largest audience in TV history (it still ranks second). If you weren't one of the millions glued to the set to find out who did shoot J.R., we won't spoil the mystery. But we will warn you, never underestimate the power of a woman scorned.

A Slice of Pi (3/14/07)

2009-04-03T02:01:00.000-07:00

3.141592 may look like some kind of phone number, but for the mathematically inclined, those numbers have a special significance -- they're the first few digits of pi. We're not talking about delicious baked desserts, but rather the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. And March 14 -- or 3/14 -- is Pi Day! Celebrating a fraction may seem like an odd thing to do, but you know what party animals mathematicians are! Any excuse to eat pizza and drink piña coladas -- and especially at one minute to 2:00 pm (3/14, 1:59 being the first six digits of pi) -- well, just stand clear of the piñatas, pine nuts, and pineapples, 'cause you know where the hot geek-on-geek action will be! But you can do more than just eat; you can convert circles into radians, or go for a 3.14 mile run. If that's too strenuous, though, we recommend sitting down and watching a good movie and eating some delicious homemade snacks.

Chuck Norris Rules the World (3/9/07)

2009-04-03T01:59:00.000-07:00

Some say he was born in a log cabin that he built himself. Legend, perhaps, but the one sure thing is that his birth occurred on March 10, 1940, in Ryan, Oklahoma -- which makes him 67 years old this weekend. Who are we talking about? Chuck Norris: the man, the legend, the Internet phenomenon. How Norris grew from martial arts champion and movie star to the guy more or less in charge of the universe is unclear (most sources cite Conan O'Brien's show, but how does a natural phenomenon like Chuck or an earthquake or a hurricane "start?"), but facts don't seem to matter; Chuck is. Any man who can count both Whoopi Goldberg and George W. Bush among his friends is truly a force to be reckoned with. So who cares if he did or didn't count to infinity -- twice? All we know is that at the age when most men settle into quiet retirement, he could still kick our ass -- and yours -- and anyone else's.

Diamonds for Elizabeth (2/27/07)

2009-04-03T01:58:00.000-07:00

Today we honor the birthday of Dame Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor Hilton Wilding Todd Fisher Burton Burton Warner Fortensky (whew!), and how appropriate is it that her 75th birthday is also her diamond anniversary? Elizabeth (not "Liz"; never "Liz") was a star from the age of 9, when she appeared in her first picture, and barely a day has gone by since then when she wasn't in the public eye. Despite her ups and downs, she's been the personification of glamour -- and used her notoriety to champion her favorite causes, most notably AIDS research. But more than a mere icon, she's an actress of power and grace, being nominated for five Academy Awards (winning two), not to mention being the first actress to earn a million dollars for a film and ranking seventh in a list of the greatest film actresses of all time. We may not be able to give her diamonds, but we'll definitely hoist a chicken in her honor.

The Talk of the Town (2/21/07)

2009-04-03T01:55:00.000-07:00

If Eustace Tilly himself had been searching for the unlikeliest person to edit a magazine about sophistication in New York, he couldn't have done much better than Harold Ross. Despite being a high-school dropout, Ross fell in with the Algonquin Round Table -- the group that defined American wit in the 1920s -- and used their talents to create a magazine that was "not edited for the old lady in Dubuque." Ross was the brain of The New Yorker, and its heart was E.B. White, whose clean prose informed the magazine's style, and whose influence spread far beyond Manhattan. Since its first issue, dated February 21, 1925, virtually every major American writer, photographer, or cartoonist -- James Thurber, John Updike, Dorothy Parker, John Hersey, Ring Lardner, Richard Avedon, R. Crumb, and Truman Capote, and scores of others -- has appeared in the magazine's pages. So, on your 81st birthday, Mr. Tilley, we say to you anything except "the hell with it."

Say It With Flowers... or Bullets (2/14/07)

2009-04-03T01:53:00.000-07:00

Most friends and lovers send their Valentine's greetings in the usual way: candy, flowers, cards. But Al Capone was anything but a "usual" guy. In 1929, when he wanted to make his feelings for rival Bugs Moran known, his Cupids didn't use arrows. They used Thompson submachine guns loaded with kisses, not covered in chocolate but in lead. Seven members of the Moran gang met their ends that day, including one who refused to turn stool pigeon, insisting, "Nobody shot me." The garage where the massacre took place was torn down in 1967, and the bricks were sold to a businessman who used them in the men's room of his restaurant. When that building was demolished, he tried selling the bricks individually, but buyers kept returning them, claiming they were cursed. And that lot in Chicago? Passers-by still report strange noises and feelings of fear. One assumes those whispers are something other than sweet nothings.

To Serve Man (2/9/07)

2009-04-03T01:52:00.000-07:00

If there's one taboo common to all human cultures, it's cannibalism. Yet, since the dawn of recorded time (and before), anthropophagy has been both practiced discreetly and used openly to smear one's enemies. There just seems to be something in the idea that whets people's appetites. From Shakespeare to Monty Python, we can't get our fill of cannibalism. There are even two musicals about it. What student hasn't made a restaurant reservation for "Donner: party of five" or joked about a distasteful side-dish being composed of Soylent Green? And who could forget America's favorite cannibal, that gruesome gourmet Hannibal Lecter? There's enough curiosity about "long pig" that not only did an enterprising reporter roast some up (it tastes like veal, apparently), but also a hoaxster tried to market tofu-based "hufu." One thing's for sure. If you receive a book called "To Serve Man," run for the hills.

The Golden Arches Turn Red (1/31/07)

2009-04-03T01:50:00.000-07:00

In the bleak days of the Soviet Union, consumer goods were scarce, but wise shoppers knew they could head to the local Универсам (supermarket) and pick up some mystery meat for supper. Soviets with a little pocket money might make a beeline to their favorite кафе (cafe) for a hearty bowl of борщ (borshch). All of that changed on January 31, 1990, though, when arch-capitalist McDonald's opened their first ресторан (restaurant) in Москва. Микки Дc (Mickey D's) was soon the hottest thing since sliced хлеб (bread), serving 30,000 people on the first day alone. The McDonald's in Pushkin Square is still the company's busiest outlet, and the chain has expanded to 103 locations, serving more than 200,000 hungry Russians a day. But the Биг Мак isn't the only convenience food option for Muscovites on the go. Ronald McDonald has been joined by such chains as Subway, TGI Friday's, and even the homegrown Rostik's. So if you're ever in Moscow, drop by; you never know who you might see.

Tunarama (1/26/07)

2009-04-03T01:47:00.000-07:00

Consider the life of the tuna. Mr. Limpet wished for such an existence: "A fish can swim," he sang. "That's all they ask of him." While its life may seem blissful, the tuna has much to deal with. It takes everything our finny friends can do to avoid the fisherman's net. (Of course, there are exceptions.) Even if they do escape, they still face being poisoned. And for that unlucky number who are caught, the humiliations don't cease even upon their deaths. Their corpses are tossed around like sacks of potatoes and their flesh is subjected to strange recipes. There's even a town in Australia that devotes an entire weekend to the ritual humiliation of the noble Thunnus, offering prizes to the sadist who tosses the tuna's carcass the farthest. With no safety on land, in the air, or in the sea, the tuna may need to take a cue from the catfish and start digging.

The Greatest of All Time Turns 65 (1/17/07)

2009-04-03T01:46:00.000-07:00

Have you ever done something that made you want to kick yourself? Or, more specifically, not done something? Today is Muhammad Ali's 65th birthday, an occasion that sent this writer strolling down Memory Lane. In the mid-1980s, at a Burger King on Wilshire Blvd in Los Angeles, what did I see but a gold convertible Rolls-Royce? Behind the wheel was none other than the Heavyweight Champion of the World, Muhammad Ali. The Champ was greeting fans, shaking hands, and generally basking in his fame. Yours truly was certainly a fan, but I decided to forego the chance to meet Ali -- a decision that haunts to this day. The lesson to be learned? Never turn down an opportunity to thank someone you admire, whether famous, infamous, or unknown. Mr. Ali, if you happen to be reading this today, Happy Birthday -- and I'd still love to shake your hand.

Studio Whisky on the Sunset Strip (1/11/07)

2009-04-03T01:44:00.000-07:00

Sunset Boulevard runs 22 miles from the heart of Hollywood to the Pacific Ocean. But there's one mile-and-a-half stretch of this thoroughfare that draws tourists from around the world, and few of them are searching for a sublime sunset. Most people hit the Sunset Strip in hopes of catching some showbiz glamour. Even though the Strip has been populated at one time or another by such landmarks as Schwab's Drugstore, the Garden of Allah, Tower Records, Dudley Do-Right's Emporium, the Comedy Store, the Chateau Marmont, and a forest of billboards, the heart of the Boulevard may be the Whisky a Go-Go, which opened on January 11, 1964. The Whisky was the first American incarnation of the French revolution called the discotheque and featured young hipsters, go-go girls, and a house band known as The Doors. Rival clubs such as the Roxy and the Rainbow soon sprang up, weathering such musical revolutions as the British Invasion, punk, and metal. Genres come and go, but the sun has not yet set on the Whisky.

Dangerous Toys, My Eye! (12/24/06)

2009-04-03T01:42:00.000-07:00

Every year about this time, some group of buttinsky do-gooders comes along with a list of "dangerous" toys that parents should avoid just because some kiddie somewhere might swallow something or put an eye out. When we were growing up, we weren't softies like these kids today. Our toys were hazardous. They were rusty. They gave us splinters. They exploded or stabbed us. We played with chemistry sets and concocted all sorts of toxic stuff -- and we'd eat it. We had Thingmakers that would melt Plastigoop, which could burn the skin off your arm. Our Erector sets could cut a finger off. Nowadays, kids aren't even allowed to play dodgeball or swing on the monkey bars, because someone might break an arm. Honestly! You kids today. Pick up your rounded corners, hypoallergenic, flame-resistant, no-small-parts toys and get off my lawn!

Put on Your Christmas Panto (12/21/06)

2009-04-03T01:40:00.000-07:00

Every winter across the British Isles eyes light up in anticipation of one thing: It's panto season! But those lit-up eyes aren't those of kids; they're those of washed-up TV stars and C-list celebrities who know they'll be able to get a few weeks work in a Christmas Pantomime. Panto is an art form that is virtually unique to the U.K. They're almost always based on fairy tales (one site lists over 50 professional productions of "Cinderella" alone), and feature comely lasses playing the principal boys, male actors in drag as evil stepmothers, double entendres, and loads of audience participation. Pantos may not be Shakespeare, but they've drawn everyone from Ian McKellan and Danny Kaye to May McFettridge and Joe Pasquale. Some performers may think they're too big for panto, but if all you're looking for is a few songs, a few jokes, and a good night out, you could do worse.

What Do You Get for the Man Who Knows Everything? (12/14/06)

2009-04-03T01:39:00.000-07:00

You'd probably never predict it, but one of the things we love to do at the Spark is translating the works of Medieval French writers. One of our favorites is Michel de Nostredame, aka, Nostradamus. Imagine our surprise, then, to come across this particular quatrain:

When the bird has devoured the cat,
And the ass has trampled that big thing with the long nose,
Someone in a cube of metal and fabric
Will write a paean to me on my birthday.

Well, with that hanging over our heads, how could we not celebrate? Mike (as we like to call him) earned his living as a pharmacist, but became known for his prophecies that foresaw everything from Napoleon to the hula hoop with startling accuracy (or not, depending on who you talk to). Regardless, Mike, we wish you a happy 503rd birthday! We'd have gotten you a present, but you would have known what it was before even unwrapping it -- and we hate that!

Hey Lena, Where's the Lutefisk? (12/8/06)

2009-04-03T01:38:00.000-07:00

In early December, Norwegians shake off the winter cold and lethargy and start to gear up for the end of the year. Time is short and they've got plenty to do: it's time to get the lutefisk ready! Yes, lutefisk, that unique combination of stockfish and lye that even "The Man Who Ate Everything" drew the line at. But Norwegians aren't the only ones who eat unusual things in unusual combinations at holiday time. In Denmark, it's rice pudding, cabbage, and glogg. Finns indulge in liver casserole, gingerbread -- and glogg. Swedes serve up herring, cabbage, beets, and, yes, glogg. Obviously, the North American traditions of turkey, ham, and eggnog haven't made it back to the old country. Looking at the menu, though, is it any wonder that Santa fills up on cookies and milk?

I'll See You in C-U-B-A (12/1/06)

2009-04-03T01:35:00.000-07:00

Fifty years ago this weekend, Fidel Castro landed the yacht Granma on the beaches of Cuba to begin the final battles of the Cuban Revolution. It's a little easier for tourists to get there nowadays, though, and Cuba attracts some 2 million visitors a year. The embargo the U.S. government placed on the country in 1961 has been a curse and a blessing. It's effectively stifled the Cuban economy, but it's allowed the island to avoid overt commercialization and retain its unique character. But what is there for the adventurous tourist to do? Plenty. From the many urban and historical sites in Havana, Trinidad, and Santiago to the natural wonders of the Vinales Valley, there's something for everyone. So, whether you're sitting on the terrace of the Parque Central Hotel or staying at the humblest casa particular, as you puff your cigar and sip your rum and Coke, give a toast to the health (or lack thereof) of El Jefe.

The Risky Business of Attempted Assassins (11/21/06)

2009-04-03T01:34:00.000-07:00

Every endeavor or profession has its success stories and its failures, its heroes and goats. This is just as true in the murky world of political assassins. For every villainous John Wilkes Booth or Leon Czolgosz, there's a Sara Jane Moore or a Samuel Byck who failed to reach the upper echelons of infamy -- thankfully so. We would never call any murder a "success," but nevertheless it appears that some assassins are just more efficient than others. Charles Guiteau was an unsuccessful author, theologian, and lawyer, but turned out to be a whiz at shooting a president. Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, on the other hand, was a rank amateur in the assassin pursuit, failing to properly load her gun before she tried to shoot Gerald Ford. And just consider the case of John Schrank. In 1912, he shot Theodore Roosevelt, but the bullet was deflected by Roosevelt's glasses and a copy of the speech the president was to deliver. To Shrank's frustration, Roosevelt spoke for 90 minutes after being shot and carried the bullet in his chest for the rest of his life. Yes, some assassins just can't catch a break, but it's a risky business they choose to undertake -- and we can't say we feel too sorry for them.

A Mouse in the Movie House (11/18/06)

2009-04-03T01:33:00.000-07:00

When Mickey Mouse made his screen debut in "Steamboat Willie" on November 18, 1928, the world went mad for the mouse. Never before had audiences seen animated characters who could talk and sing, and the effects of the cartoon created and directed by Walt Disney were electrifying. It's a great American success story, except little of it is true. "Steamboat Willie" wasn't the first Mickey cartoon made (he'd already appeared in two other silent cartoons), he didn't talk, and Disney turned most of the directing duties over to Ub Iwerks. As for sound, Max Fleischer and Paul Terry had already produced cartoons with either spoken dialogue or synchronized sound effects. But there's no disputing something was in the combination of Mickey's personality and those sound effects that soon made him an international superstar. By 1932, more than one million children had joined the Mickey Mouse Club and his grown-up fans ranged from Franklin Delano Roosevelt to Benito Mussolini. Maybe Mickey was just a heck of a whistler.

The Turtle and the Sign (11/13/06)

2009-04-03T01:31:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there were two turtles. In spite of being old, venerable, and respected, this turtle couple refused to learn how to read. "We've never had the need to read before, so why should we start now?" As these things will happen, the turtle couple had children, none of whom were taught to read. The smallest of the turtles was able to puzzle out some words for himself, though, and one day happened across a pond with a sign reading "Fine for swimming." The young turtle, happy to see that the pond was a swimming hole, jumped in -- only to be arrested for trespassing and given a stiff fine. As the older turtle bailed out his son, he rued the day he had ever denied his children the pleasures of reading.

Moral: Teach your children to read; it's cheaper than the alternative.

Thomas Nast's Barnyard Politics (11/7/06)

2009-04-03T01:29:00.000-07:00

It's Election Day! Time to get out there and vote for (or against) the candidate of your choice. Appropriately enough, it's also the birthday of the Republican elephant. That symbol is familiar to most Americans, but where in the world did it come from? The answer, as with so many iconic American images, is Thomas Nast. Nast was a political cartoonist in the late 19th century who had an influence that is almost unimaginable today. Almost single-handedly, he brought down New York City's corrupt Tammany Hall and its leader, William "Boss" Tweed. As notable as that feat was, though, it's Nast's graphic images that still have currency today. The Democratic Donkey? Nast. Uncle Sam? Nast. Santa Claus? Guess who? So whether you stampede into your polling place or kick over the booth today, give a nod to Nast. And whatever you do, vote. (And if you live in Chicago, vote early and often.)

Mr. Gojira in Retirement (11/3/06)

2009-04-03T01:28:00.000-07:00

"Yeah, it was a lot of work, but it was also a lot of fun." The green goliath looks out at his 500-acre orange ranch. "Back then, I could destroy most of Tokyo, take on any number of crazy monsters, and breathe fire all day. Today, I'm lucky if I get heartburn." Godzilla chuckles; it's not the first time he's told that joke. By investing wisely, Gojira (he now goes by his original Japanese name) was able to leave the monster trade to a younger generation. "My son tried it for a while, but his heart wasn't in it. And that kid they hired for the remake? Oi vey! CGI will never beat a rubber suit." Does he miss the old days? "Sure. But, the old gang -- Mothra, Gamera, Kong -- and I have a weekly poker game and relive the past without all the aches and pains." Another laugh, but with just a hint of flame this time. After 52 years, Gojira still has a little something for his fans.

Grave Robbers, Incorporated (10/31/06)

2009-04-03T01:26:00.000-07:00

Help Wanted: Completely ethical, reasonable, and sane scientist (though they called me mad! Mad, am I? I'll show them. I'll show them all!) needs discreet assistant for unique recycling projects at a ground-breaking startup. Benefits include private working conditions, flexible hours (must be available on dark and stormy nights), and plenty of physical exercise. We're looking for someone who is detail-oriented and has a knack for jumping in and digging up leads. Get in on the ground floor (or even below the ground) of this electrifying opportunity. Candidates with own shovels and ability to distinguish between normal and abnormal brains preferred. Hunchbacks encouraged. Whistle-blowers and those with scruples or weak stomachs need not apply. No background check. Please contact Dr. V. Frankenstein, Abandoned Castle at the Top of the Hill, Transylvania. EOE.

Bela Lugosi's Undead (10/20/06)

2009-04-03T01:24:00.000-07:00

Life in Hollywood for the undead, no matter how famous, can be harsh. Consider the career of one of the world's most famous vampires, Bela Ferenc Dezso Blasko. Born October 20, 1882, Blasko was a matinee idol and Shakespearean star in his native Hungary. But when came to New York seeking fame and fortune, he could only find work in the Hungarian-language theatre. He got his break, though, when he was cast in the title role of the stage adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel, "Dracula." When Hollywood bought the play, Blasko went with it, under his more familiar stage name, Bela Lugosi. The film was a sensation. Lugosi's portrayal was as strong as his accent, and as a result he was typecast in horror pictures and B-movies forever more. Although he never stopped working (appearing in more than 100 pictures), he never scaled the heights that his longtime rival Boris "Frankenstein" Karloff reached. In 1994, Martin Landau was awarded an Oscar for his portrayal of Lugosi, an honor the real man, Hollywood's original vampire, never achieved.

The So-Called Joy of Cooking (10/11/06)

2009-04-03T01:22:00.000-07:00

Cooking a joy? For whom? We just don't get the point of fancy cuisine and all those elaborate gadgets. Give us plain, old-fashioned meat and potatoes. We love a good cheeseburger, but does anyone really need one topped with pastrami or made from bison? That's why Irma Rombauer knew what she was doing way back in 1931. She took her file of 3,000 simple recipes to a label printing company, and she baked up the first edition of the "Joy of Cooking." Rombauer may not have been the world's greatest cook, but she knew that simple is better, filling her book with such perennial classics as tuna noodle casserole, BLT sandwiches, and banana bread. Sure, there were occasional oddities: how to skin a squirrel, remove the glands of raccoon, roast milk-fed opossum, to name a few. But after 75 years, when it comes to basic American cooking -- minus killing your own small game -- every kitchen should be a joyful kitchen.

President Wilson -- President Edith Wilson (10/2/06)

2009-04-03T01:21:00.001-07:00

The question is often asked if the United States is ready for a female president. Considering the influence such first ladies as Eleanor Roosevelt, Nancy Reagan, and Hillary Rodham Clinton had on their husbands, one could argue that the country has come close to having a woman in the Oval Office a handful of times. However, if some historians are to be believed, the country already had a female Chief Executive -- almost 90 years ago! When Woodrow Wilson was disabled by a stroke on October 2, 1919, his wife Edith virtually served as acting president, deciding which matters and issues could be brought to her husband's attention. In her memoirs, Mrs. Wilson denied making any major decisions. Only a few people could have known how much in charge she truly was. Woodrow Wilson died in 1924, but Edith Wilson lived until 1961 -- dying, coincidentally, on her husband's 105th birthday. Maybe any list of U.S. Presidents is in need of an asterisk.

Book Banning: It's Not Just for Fascists Anymore (9/27/06)

2009-04-03T01:19:00.000-07:00

The week of September 23 to 30 opens another chapter in annual Banned Books Week. All we can say is, "It's about time!" There are so many books being published (10,000 a year -- and that's just the fiction!), we can't keep up. Following the list of taboo tomes offers us the opportunity to get rid of some books and writers we just can't stand. So, away with you, "Ulysses"! No one understands you, anyway. Dr. Seuss: all that rhyming, what's the use? "Scary Stories in the Dark," "Christine," and "Cujo"? Who wants to spend money to be scared? "How to Eat Fried Worms," "James and the Giant Peach," and "The Grapes of Wrath"? These books are totally lacking in wholesome nutritional advice. "Where's Waldo?" We'll tell you where he is: on the junkpile! Goodness! This is exhausting! But the price of liberty is eternal vigilance, and it's better to err on the side of censorship than to find that someone's mind has been irreparably opened... Right?

Hail Emperor Norton! (9/15/06)

2009-04-03T01:17:00.000-07:00

All hail Norton I, Emperor of these United States and Protector of Mexico! This year marks the 147th anniversary of the beginning of His Imperial Majesty's 21-year reign. A visionary, Norton called for the construction of a bridge that would span San Francisco Bay and demanded that the Democratic and Republican Parties -- not to mention the United States Congress -- be dissolved. While some may have questioned the Emperor's sanity (he was arrested in 1867), San Francisco police officers always saluted him when they saw him on the street. When Norton died in 1880, he was revealed to be virtually penniless, but local business leaders chipped in for a grand funeral that stretched for two miles and was attended by some 30,000 citizens. He lies buried in Colma, California. To those who doubt either Norton's fitness to rule or the divine right of kings, please note that on the day after his burial there was a total eclipse of the sun in San Francisco.

Who Killed the Black Dahlia? (9/14/06)

2009-04-03T01:15:00.000-07:00

This is the city: Los Angeles, California. We were working the day watch out of the Homicide division when the call came in. A murder victim had been discovered in Leimert Park. The woman's body had been cut in two at the waist. All the blood had been drained from it. It wasn't a sight for the weak of heart -- or stomach. We started our investigation immediately. The woman's name: Elizabeth Short. But the newspapers soon dubbed her the "Black Dahlia." Beyond that, the case stagnated. We couldn't get charges to any of the dozens of suspects. The years rolled on, advancing plenty of theories, but they all lead to dead-end roads. Even though the case is still officially open, it will probably never be "solved." Someone, someday may make a movie that will offer "definitive" answers, but as long as crime buffs exist, the Black Dahlia case will draw them like flies to honey.

The Flush Heard Round the World (9/5/06)

2009-04-03T01:13:00.000-07:00

Pity the poor toilet. Is there a more abused fixture in the modern home or office? Consider the unnamed substances dumped into it, yet it performs its duty without complaint, day in and day out. And if it should fail, do we take into consideration the invaluable work it does? No, we heap complaint and vituperation on it. Does no one seek relief for the humble commode? Yes! Fortunately for all of us, the World Toilet Organization meets regularly to discuss the latest developments in toilet science and technology; to keep the "comfort" in "comfort station." Of course, even the WTO has its critics, but the organization remains steadfast in its advocacy for the billions of toilets around the world. So, the next time you use the toilet (and you will), take a moment to thank those who are dedicated to providing you with the best evacuation experience.

Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper (8/31/06)

2009-03-29T23:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Boss,

It has been quite a while since you heard from me. Guess maybe you thought I was gone. No such luck for you. Ha ha. Today is the anniversary of the first of my little games, I thought I should say hello. It's been almost 120 years since my last job and no one still has any idea who I am or why I done what I done.

There are plenty of possibilities. Maybe I'm a surgeon. I sure know how to handle a knife, don't I? Maybe I'm a royal. Maybe I'm not even a man, but a lady instead. Ha ha. That would be a good joke on you.

One thing's for sure. Plenty of geezers have tried to imitate me but no one is more famous. Time to go. "My knife's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance."

Yours truly,
Jack the Ripper

The International Chan of Mystery (8/24/06)

2009-03-29T23:22:00.001-07:00

Midnight in Monte Carlo. A shot rings out! Who do the local police call to solve the murder? Why, Charlie Chan! Chan was created in 1925 by Earl Derr Biggers, and soon became a phenomenon. Known for his ice-cream suits, huge family, and timely aphorisms (delivered in broken English), Charlie was modeled on the real-life detective, Chang Apana. Based in Honolulu, Charlie traveled the world solving cases in London, Paris, Egypt, and even the Berlin Olympics! Despite his popularity (6 novels, 47 motion pictures, and an animated cartoon series), Chan was a controversial figure. Asian American activists claimed he was a stereotype, but Charlie was invariably the most honest, decent, and smartest character in any of the stories. An upcoming film will star Lucy Liu as Charlie's granddaughter, upholding the family business of crime-busting. Such cross-casting may seem odd, but as Charlie himself once said, "Woman's intuition like feather on arrow: May help flight to truth."

The Bird and Other Baseball Cuckoos (4/15/06)

2009-03-29T23:20:00.000-07:00

What qualities make a great baseball player? Speed and power usually help. But sometimes eccentricity and goofiness come through in a pinch. Rube Waddell would leave the stadium to chase fire engines. Wade Boggs ate nothing but chicken before every game. Moe Drabowsky crank called the opposing team's bullpen to get pitchers warmed up. Jimmy Piersall ran around the bases backwards to celebrate his 100th home run. Turk Wendell brushed his teeth in the dugout. And then there's Mark Fidrych. The tall and skinny Fidrych bore an uncanny resemblance to Sesame Street's Big Bird, hence his nickname: The Bird. Fidrych endeared himself to fans by carefully manicuring the mound during games, talking to the ball before he pitched it, and demanding that balls with "hits in them" be removed from the game. The Bird's star shined brightly, but briefly, as injuries forced him to retire at the age of 29.

Made of Pen and Ink, She Can Win You With a Wink (8/8/06)

2009-03-29T23:18:00.000-07:00

When Betty Boop debuted in "Dizzy Dishes," in August 1930, the world of animation changed its tune. Betty, who began life as some kind of canine, was closely based on "Boop-Boop-a-Doop" Girl Helen Kane (who later filed an unsuccessful plagiarism lawsuit). Despite her unique anatomy, Betty added something that had never been seen on the animated screen: sex appeal. Accompanied by her cohorts Koko and Bimbo and such musicians as Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong, Betty was soon appearing in as many as 15 pictures a year. Fame was fleeting, though, and when the Max Fleischer Studio went bust, Betty went with it -- disappearing until a TV resurrection in the 1950s. Even though she hasn't appeared on the screen since 1988, we can still ogle her on bumper stickers, hula dolls, and even an upcoming Broadway musical. Not bad for a 76 year-old flapper!

Wild Bill and the Dead Man's Hand (8/2/06)

2009-03-29T23:16:00.000-07:00

Aces and eights. Ever since August 2, 1876, when James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok was shot to death while holding those cards, they've been known as the "dead man's hand." Standing a towering 6'3", Hickok was a colorful character, even by the standards of the Old West. He was known as a dandy who sported shoulder-length blond hair, a taste for fancy clothes, and a reputation as a lethal gunman. He claimed to have killed over 100 men -- but never "without cause." Wild Bill met his end in the raw mining town of Deadwood, South Dakota, where he crossed paths with such rough-and-tumble types as Calamity Jane, Al Swearengen, and Seth Bullock. Hickok had traveled to Deadwood to earn money to support his new bride, but was a lousy gambler. If only he'd succumbed to some of the town's other vices instead, he might have lived to a ripe old age.

The Real Stanley Kubrick (7/26/06)

2009-03-29T23:13:00.000-07:00

How did one of Hollywood's greatest recluses become one of its most idiosyncratic directors? That's only one of the riddles that add up to Stanley Kubrick. Despite having no training, he was directing independent documentaries at the age of 23, and by 27, he'd helmed his first major feature, "Killer's Kiss." Such big-budget movies as "Spartacus" and "Dr. Strangelove" followed. Disenchanted with the studio system, Kubrick relocated to England, where he remained for the rest of his life, turning out "2001: A Space Odyssey," "A Clockwork Orange," and "The Shining," among others. His quirks were legendary: He never returned to the U.S., but was a huge fan of both "Seinfeld" and "The Simpsons." He listened to air traffic controllers but refused to fly. Once his films were finished, he never watched them. Kubrick kept such a low profile that a British travel agent successfully posed as him, despite neither looking like him nor knowing anything about his films.

The Mighty Mosquito (7/18/06)

2009-03-29T23:11:00.000-07:00

Consider the humble mosquito. Only 15 mm in length and 2 mg in weight, yet still a health hazard to many, an annoying pest to most, and a vampire in the strictest sense. But even this disease-spreading parasite has its interesting points. The Culicidae (or "skeeter" to you) dates back more than 140 million years, when it hobnobbed with the dinosaurs. And were it not for the New Jersey State bird's ability to spread malaria, Napoleon might never have agreed to sell a good chunk of North America to Thomas Jefferson. Of course, even these fun facts don't mean you should befriend the mosquito. She (female mosquitoes do the biting) can still pack a mean wallop, health-wise. From encephalitis and Dengue Fever to Yellow Fever, and West Nile Virus, the mosquito can spread them all. And don't think garlic can protect you, either. Only chemicals like DEET can keep the little buggers from biting.

National Anti-Boredom Month (7/10/06)

2009-03-29T23:09:00.000-07:00

School's out and vacations may await you around the corner -- the long, lazy days of summer stretch on and on. It seems like everything, from cities in Oregon to Superman artists, are boring. Stop yawning! July is Anti-Boredom Month, so wake up and indulge yourself in some exciting activities! You can watch paint dry or tune into a PBS pledge break. Up and at 'em! Get out of the house! Go for an exciting drive or even travel abroad. Celebrate the life of Luca Pacioli, the father of accounting or study the rich history of lawn mowing! See the exciting sights of Kansas or England. Take up a hobby. What do you like collecting? Shoelaces? Barometers? Airsickness bags? Gloves? For pity's sake, there's plenty to do and to see, we swear! So get off of the couch and start doing it!

Tin Can Tourists (6/29/06)

2009-03-26T22:24:00.002-07:00

Recreational vehicles have come a long way since Americans started using them to tour the country in the 1920s. "Tin Can Tourists" were blessed with curiosity and a sense of adventure, but didn't necessarily want to give up the amenities of home -- and thus was born the RV. After World War II, such companies as Airstream and Winnebago sprang up, dedicated to giving the motor tourist comfort in a surprisingly lightweight form. Even Hollywood got into the act, as Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz attempted to drive across the U.S. in their movie, "The Long, Long Trailer" (a feat emulated by Albert Brooks and Julie Hagerty in "Lost in America"). And just what do these road warriors want to see? Well, they may start with the World's Largest Catsup Bottle, then the Big Duck, north to Hiawatha, "The World's Tallest and Largest Indian," then the World's Oldest Working Lightbulb, or any number of other unique destinations.

A Really Big "Shew" (6/20/06)

2009-03-26T22:24:00.001-07:00

From June 20, 1949, until June 6, 1971, Americans had an unbreakable Sunday night ritual: to gather around the TV set and watch "The Ed Sullivan Show." Sullivan was the unlikeliest of television hosts. A former gossip columnist, he was stiff and uncharismatic (which was heaven for such impressionists as Will Jordan), but a shrewd judge of talent. Among the performers who made their TV debuts on Sullivan's "really big 'shew'" were Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, Sammy Davis, Jr., Lena Horne, Señor Wences, and Topo Gigio. On February 9, 1964, the country came to a standstill as some 73 million people watched The Beatles. As big as that broadcast was, Sullivan's claim to immortality may be the musical "Bye Bye Birdie." More than 30 years after his death, hardly a week goes by when a group of high-school students doesn't sing his praises in the "Hymn for a Sunday Evening."

One Man a Kingfish (6/12/06)

2009-03-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

Y'all listen up while we relate the story of the Kingfish. Some o' you know him as Huey Long, but down in Lou'siana, they still call him by his nickname. Huey ran the state back in the '30s, even after he was elected to the Senate -- an' this was after he'd been Gov'nuh for four years, runnin' on the slogan, "Every Man a King." Some say the Kingfish was a dictator, but there are just as many who think he was a real hero to the common folk; he gave 'em roads an' bridges an' schools an' free textbooks. Now, if there was one thing Huey could do, without dispute, it was talk; he could talk a mule into doing the tango. In fact, in 1935, he made the second-longest speech ever heard in the Senate -- took two days to finish. Speakin' of finishes, the Kingfish met his when a political opponent shot him -- or did he?

"Fine" Art (6/8/06)

2009-03-26T22:20:00.000-07:00

The 20th century produced many great artists. In the 1910s, there was Picasso. In the 1940s, it was Jackson Pollock. And the 1960s? Well, the '60s gave us LeRoy Neiman and Margaret Keane. Neiman is best known for sporting a ginormous mustache, painting brightly colored pictures of athletes, and never letting go of his cigar. Keane stunned the art world with her heart-rending portraits of children with eyes the size of Buicks. While both were successful, neither painter managed to find a place in the Sears Vincent Price Gallery of Fine Arts, which seemed to have some standards, even if they were questionable at times. It wasn't until Thomas Kinkade hit the scene in the 1990s that we found an artist who could really cram his work down the throats of Americans. Maybe the success of these artists is surprising to some, but as H.L. Mencken once (almost) said, "No one ever went broke underestimating the good taste of the American public."

Mrs. Parker and the Round Table (6/7/06)

2009-03-26T22:19:00.000-07:00

In the 1920s, there was no group smarter or funnier than the Algonquin Round Table (aka "the Vicious Circle"). Such creative types as George S. Kaufman and Robert Benchley met daily at New York's Algonquin Hotel to dissect current events, the theatre, and each other. The most notorious member was Dorothy Parker, who was as famous for her biting criticism ("This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force") as her suicide attempts. Mrs. Parker may have met the most unusual end of all the Round Table members. When she died on June 7, 1967, she left her ashes to writer Lillian Hellman, who let them languish in a drawer at Parker's lawyer's office for 21 years until the NAACP interred them in a specially-built garden in Baltimore. Mrs. Parker's mock epitaph, "Excuse my dust," turned out to be more prophetic than she could have dreamed.

Tarzan (6/2/06)

2009-03-26T22:16:00.000-07:00

Me Tarzan, you reader. Friends ask Tarzan why English lord speak so badly. Tarzan answer, "Give people what they want." Tarzan speak fine in 1912 when Tarzan created by Edgar Rice Burroughs. (Tarzan even speak French.) But when Tarzan played by Johnny Weissmuller in many movies, Tarzan somehow tongue-tied. Go figure. Anyway, Tarzan is king of apes and of many jungles: African jungle (even have song about it!), movie jungle, TV jungle, radio jungle, comic book jungle, cartoon jungle. Tarzan even have new Broadway musical. Eat heart out, Batman! This good day for many friends. Cheeta celebrate 74th birthday. Live in Valley. Paints. Lucky. ($125 a painting? Maybe Tarzan should try.) Weissmuller's birthday today. Couldn't speak, but good swimmer. To them and you, Tarzan have only one thing to say: Ooohhhhaaeeeaaaahhhh Oooohhheeeaaahhh!

Halley's Comet (5/18/06)

2009-03-26T22:15:00.000-07:00

Every 76 years, Halley's Comet returns to our cosmic neighborhood. Even though British astronomer Edmond Halley predicted the celestial visitor's appearance in 1758, Halley never saw the comet to which he lent his name. The most famous appearance of the comet -- also known as 1P/Halley -- came in 1910, when it was bright enough to be seen in daylight hours. When the planet passed through the comet's tail on April 18, a worldwide panic erupted as people feared that the Earth's atmosphere would be poisoned by cyanogen gas. The comet's biggest fan may have been Mark Twain, whose birth and death came during visits from Halley's Comet. Twain opined, "The Almighty has said, no doubt: 'Now here are these two unaccountable freaks; they came in together, they must go out together.'" Those wishing to follow Twain's example have plenty of time to make reservations; the comet isn't due back again until 2061.

Bathy Hirpday, Yogi Berra! (5/12/06)

2009-03-26T22:13:00.000-07:00

Philosopher and sage Lawrence Peter Berra celebrates his 81st birthday today, and we wish him hearty felicitations ("Thank you for making this day necessary."). In a perfect world ("If the world were perfect, it wouldn't be."), Berra -- known as "Yogi" to those in the know -- would be remembered as quite a ballplayer ("Ninety percent of this game is half mental."), but history will note him for his "Yogiisms," which fractured the English language in unique ways ("Aw, I didn't really say everything I said."). Yogi may lack the historical gravitas ("It's like déjà vu all over again.") or the silver tongue of some of his predecessors like Reverend William Spooner, Samuel Goldwyn, Gracie Allen, or even Mrs. Malaprop. But anyone who could remind us that "when you get to a fork in the road, take it," or that "you can observe a lot by watching," is a grade-A philosopher in our book. But don't try this at home, kids. As the maestro said, "If you can't imitate him, don't copy him."

Negro League Baseball (5/3/06)

2009-03-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

Who's the greatest home run hitter of all time? Henry Aaron? Babe Ruth? Barry Bonds? Top sluggers, all three, but who could dismiss Josh Gibson? And what about the best pitcher? Maybe Sandy Koufax or Roger Clemens, but a good case can be made for Satchel Paige. Both Gibson and Paige made their marks in the Negro Leagues, baseball organizations that flourished when Major League Baseball still had a color barrier. From 1920 to 1947, such African American ballplayers as Cool Papa Bell, Rube Foster, and Buck Leonard were banned from the majors. Still, they played as many as three games a day, barnstorming the country and providing fans with a combination of showmanship and baseball at its highest level. Gibson is probably the only man to have hit a fair ball out of Yankee Stadium. Sadly, the only place we'll ever know how he might have fared against Bob Feller, or how "Bullet Joe" Rogan would have pitched against Ted Williams or Joe DiMaggio is in the ballparks of our imaginations.

TV Free Week (4/25/06)

2009-03-26T22:09:00.000-07:00

It's TV Turnoff Week, the annual campaign to encourage everyone to get away from the boob tube. We heartily endorse that sentiment, but what else is there to do? Well, we could read a book -- though there's always the risk of eyestrain or a paper cut. And that rerun of Laguna Beach looks awfully tempting. No, we can't give in. Let's head to the kitchen and cook a healthy meal. But maybe that's not so smart; if we get tears in our eyes from chopping onions, we could get a nasty knife gash. Oh, boy! Gastineau Girls is on tonight! We'd better get out of the house altogether and dig into the garden. But what about all those mosquitoes? And we sunburn awfully easily... And isn't Dog the Bounty Hunter on in a little while? Maybe being a couch potato is the only safe course of action, after all -- or maybe not.

Drive-Thru Culture (4/14/06)

2009-03-26T22:07:00.000-07:00

Ray Kroc was nothing if not a visionary. He knew that in the futuristic postwar world of the 1950s, Americans would hunger to drive to "gas stations, inexpensive motels, and restaurants that serve rapidly prepared food" -- all without getting out of their conveniently financed cars. On April 15, 1955, in Des Plaines, Illinois, Kroc opened the first of 30,000 franchised McDonald's restaurants. Time has proven him correct. Today, people do their banking, dry cleaning, eating, manicures, gambling, weddings, and even mourning without leaving the privacy and comfort of their cars. About the only thing they can't do from their cars anymore is go to the movies; the venerable drive-in theater has nearly disappeared from the American landscape. Americans love their cars so much, in fact, that some of them have buckled up for the final ride.

The Protean Twinkie (4/6/06)

2009-03-26T22:05:00.000-07:00

Snack food lovers, rejoice! Today the venerable Hostess Twinkie turns 76 years old. In the junk food world, though, the much-disparaged spongecake treat is but a toddler. The pretzel dates back to at least 610. The donut? A respected veteran from 1809. Even the johnny-come-lately potato chip goes back to 1853. What it lacks in age, the Twinkie makes up for with its flexibility. It's a snack cake useful for everything from art projects and sushi creations to stopping super-villains. Whether deep-fried, frozen, or even used in a wedding cake, the Twinkie is truly remarkable. The only unsolved mystery about the Twinkie, ultimately, is how long they'll last. Some say less than a month, but in the back of our minds, we wonder if there are any original cream-filled delights from the Depression Era, still sitting on a dusty shelf somewhere, as fresh as the day they were made.

Movie Palaces (3/31/06)

2009-03-26T22:03:00.000-07:00

Thomas L. Tally opened the Electric Theatre in Los Angeles on April 2, 1902 -- the first movie theater in the United States. He couldn't possibly have imagined that a century later, the moviegoing experience would be a cacaphony of ads, cell phones, screaming babies, and talking patrons. He may have hoped that his small storefront theater would evolve into a movie palace, a grand temple where thousands could gather in lush and opulent surroundings to watch giant flickering images on the silver screen. The heyday of movie palaces was short, lasting only about 30 years, and while most of the grand theaters of yesteryear have vanished, many are still standing -- and thriving. From Jersey City to Hollywood, from Detroit to Abilene, there are still opportunities to get a good seat in the second balcony and lose yourself in a classic film or show with a couple thousand of your best friends.

Comedy Teams (3/22/06)

2009-03-26T22:01:00.000-07:00

If two heads are better than one, it follows that two people are funnier than one. The dynamics of a comedy team may seem simple: One person is the straight man, the other is the comedian. However, when a double act morphs into a triple, quadruple, or even a sextuple act, the variations become far more complicated. Vaudeville was a breeding ground for comedy teams. Such notables as Gallagher and Shean, Weber and Fields, Burns and Allen, and The Four Marx Brothers toured the country learning their craft, but comedy teams can form almost anywhere: burlesque houses, nightclubs, and even universities. Some groups have even taken the "team" concept to extremes, whether in such improv groups as The Second City or The Upright Citizens Brigade, or by actually competing against other teams in order to answer the age-old question of who's first. Of course, if you want to see the biggest bunch of comedians of all, there's only one place to look.

Barbie (3/9/06)

2009-03-26T22:00:00.000-07:00

Ah, Barbie. Loved and tormented by millions, Barbie's not a doll to be confused with any of her various imitators, but she was, in fact, adapted almost 50 years ago from an infamous German doll. Barbie made her debut on March 9, 1959, and since then she's had as many careers as she's had outfits. She's been an ice skater, an astronaut, a doctor -- and almost anything else that doesn't require math. Of course, any celebrity as big as Barbie is bound to generate strong feelings -- both positive and negative. Some groups have criticized her for giving girls a poor body image, but at least one woman has been inspired to emulate Barbie to the nth degree. Barbara Millicent Roberts, along with her friends and family will likely spark emotions of all kinds in little girls and boys, for as long as parents buy toys.

Acting Families (3/1/06)

2009-03-26T21:58:00.000-07:00

Acting has been called the world's second oldest profession, so pity the caveman storyteller who was met with, "He's good, but his father was better." The tradition of acting roles and talent being handed down from generation to generation goes back many centuries. Commedia dell'Arte troupes were composed of extended families, with children growing into roles originated by their parents. Some Japanese kabuki troupes go back as far as 17 generations, and as performers become more adept at their roles, they are adopted into families to carry on the work -- and the names -- of their ancestors. In the West, such acting dynasties as the Barrymores, the Redgraves, the Douglases, the Fondas, and the Sheens have kept the family business going for more than half a century. Of course, not every family is so fortunate, as Joey Travolta and Frank Stallone can attest. Will celebrity babies like Apple Blythe Alison Martin, Maddox Jolie, or Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette succeed in their parents' trade? Only Thespis knows -- and he's not talking.

Hollywood Loves an Underdog (2/22/06)

2009-03-26T21:56:00.000-07:00

"Do you believe in miracles? Yes!" Sports announcer Al Michaels' call on February 22, 1980, put the capper on the U.S. Olympic Ice Hockey team's upset of the Soviet team. But hardly a season goes by when some underdog doesn't defy the odds, stunning fans with an unexpected victory. Don't think that Hollywood doesn't notice, either. Such David-and-Goliath sagas are tailor-made for the movies, where heartwarming stories can turn into cold, hard cash. The American hockey victory alone was turned into two films. Such unlikely human and animal champions as James J. Braddock and Seabiscuit gave hope to Americans beaten down by the Great Depression -- to the delight of studio heads. And audiences cheered Milan High School's small-town championship in "Hoosiers." Whose story will be next? Joe Namath's? Kirk Gibson's? Or is the next Rulon Gardner still in hiding, just waiting for a chance?

Curses! (2/16/06)

2009-03-26T21:53:00.000-07:00

When Howard Carter opened King Tutankhamun's tomb on February 16, 1923, he didn't know he was also opening a can of worms, as people began connecting ensuing events and deaths to a curse on Tut's defilers. The superstitious are eager to attribute misfortune to almost anything, and curses have been a favorite for a long time. Presidents elected in years divisible by 20 were doomed -- until Ronald Reagan survived. People in the theater refuse to mention "Macbeth" because of that play's reputation. Baseball fans may be the most curse-conscious of all. The Chicago Cubs will never win a World Series because of a billy goat; the Cleveland Indians sealed their fate by trading a beloved player; and the Red Sox could never win the championship -- until they did. Appearing on the cover of Sports Illustrated is sure to guarantee failure. But beware, O Reader Who Scoffs at Such Curses. Those who read this page without passing it on are doomed to a horrid fate!

Curling (1/30/06)

2009-03-26T21:51:00.000-07:00

One winter's day in the dim past, someone saw that a lake had frozen over and said, "Let's go out on the ice and slide rocks at a target." Those humble beginnings begat curling, the world's most exciting slow-motion sport. Curlers of all ages love to find a bonspiel, lace up their sliders, step up to the hack, and throw 44-pound stones down the ice at the house. There's more to curling than just sliding rocks, though -- team members also get to scrub the ice with brooms! The team that ends the game with the most stones close to the target wins. If they manage to get all their own rocks and none of their opponents' in the house, though, they score that rarest of feats, an 8-ender -- comparable to a 300 game in bowling. For those with the bug for freezing, wearing funny shoes, and trying not to fall, it's heaven on ice.

Winter Festivals (1/4/06)

2009-03-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

The weather outside may be frightful, but it's the right time to bundle up, leave the house, and attend a winter festival. Think of these hibernal celebrations as Fourth of July picnics, with the requisite golf and fireworks -- and five feet of snow. Even though the days are short, there's plenty to see and do: snowmobile races, eating and drinking, swimming, and ice sculptures -- lots of ice sculptures. Of course, winter festivals aren't limited to December and January: in the Southern Hemisphere, July's the time to play in the snow. Whenever winter comes, if you get too cold outside, you can hurry back to your cozy room at the local ice hotel.

Obscure Bowl Games (12/20/05)

2009-03-26T17:21:00.000-07:00

All football fans know about the Rose Bowl and the Orange Bowl, but less famous are such gridiron classics as the Raisin Bowl, the Bluebonnet Bowl, and, yes, Virginia, there actually was a Salad Bowl. The last three are defunct, but even thriving games like the Cactus Bowl, the Mineral Water Bowl, and the Amos Alonzo Stagg Bowl are followed mainly by aficionados of Division II and Division III college football. All of these unjustly obscure games offer the fan something, whether it's the long history of the Sun Bowl, the hoopla surrounding the Music City Bowl, or the inauguration of the Poinsettia Bowl. So, pull up a chair, grab a chicken sandwich and some nuts, and tune into a game like the MPC Computers Bowl. But don't adjust your TV set if the field looks funny -- it's supposed to be blue.

Holiday TV Specials (12/13/05)

2009-03-26T17:20:00.000-07:00

The end of the year is upon us, and the days are getting short, so it's time to gather around the warmest spot in the living room and regale in stories of holidays past. That doesn't mean the fireplace, of course -- it means turning on the television and watching terrible holiday specials. Oh, sure, you could watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" or "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and be moved, but they can't compare to such classics as "Nick and Jessica's Family Christmas," "A Very Gotti Christmas," or -- bah, humbug! -- "The Star Wars Holiday Special." This atrocity featured Harvey Korman as a four-armed cooking show hostess, Bea Arthur as the owner of the Star Wars cantina, and Chewbacca's son, Lumpy. Since George Lucas has vowed to destroy all copies of the show, you're probably safe, but if you feel the need to wipe the horrible memories from your mind, there's always the old reliable Yule Log.

Diners (11/30/05)

2009-03-26T17:17:00.000-07:00

"One nervous pudding, and make it walk!" the waitress hollers. "Drag one through Georgia and sweep the kitchen floor!" Don't know what that means? If not, you need to get out to your local diner more often. The diner concept took off when lunch wagon owners found that their customers were ravenous for "sinkers and suds," "city juice," and "graveyard stew." Patrons have been visiting greasy spoons ever since, in such far-flung locations as Moscow, Milan, and Maine. What brings folks back for "Bronx vanilla" and "Noah's boy"? The convenience, the atmosphere, and of course, the food. While some diners have gone missing in recent years, plenty of others remain to introduce new generations to such treats as "dough well done with cow to cover." So the next time you have a craving for a "bucket of cold mud" or "Eve with a lid on it," just drop in -- no reservations required!

Rent Goes Hollywood (11/11/05)

2009-03-26T17:15:00.002-07:00

Ever since 1927, when Al Jolson told audiences, "You ain't heard nothin' yet!" in "The Jazz Singer," film studios have been adapting Broadway musicals to the silver screen. From such blockbusters as "West Side Story," "Grease," and "Chicago" to, um, somewhat less successful films as "A Chorus Line," "Man of La Mancha," and "Annie," actors keep shouting, "Gotta sing! Gotta dance!" The latest musical to receive the Hollywood treatment is Jonathan Larson's "Rent." Director Chris Columbus has used most of the original Broadway cast to recreate the story (based loosely on Giacomo Puccini's "La Bohème") of love and art in 1980s Greenwich Village. No one knows if "Rent" will turn out to be a classic like "The Sound of Music" or a flop like "Hello, Dolly!" But whether it's a hit or a miss, fans won't have to wait long for the next great musical to hit the screen -- "The Producers" premieres in December.

Zorro (10/21/05)

2009-03-26T17:15:00.001-07:00

When danger strikes, the citizens of Metropolis can call on Superman. New Yorkers have Spider-Man. But when evil threatens the ranchos of Old California, who can the poor and oppressed turn to? Why, to Zorro, of course! Though the story of the swashbuckling Mexican avenger seems like a folk legend, he was created by Johnston McCulley for his 1919 novel, "The Curse of Capistrano." The masked avenger caught on almost immediately, sparking movies starring Douglas Fairbanks, Tyrone Power, George Hamilton, and (most recently) Anthony Hopkins and Antonio Banderas. From comic books and a television show in the '50s to a novel by Isabel Allende and musicals and ballets, Zorro has conquered the media the same way he overcomes the forces of evil and darkness -- with humor, derring-do, and unmatched swordsmanship.

Living Martha Stewart (09/21/05)

2009-03-26T17:06:00.000-07:00

Imagine this: You look at your to-do list and see that you need to sew a button onto your favorite shirt, redecorate the bedroom, and cook Thanksgiving dinner for a family of 25. Oh, and did we mention that you have to do all these chores at the same time? Can't do it? Martha Stewart could -- and she'd even throw a festive centerpiece and a new line of sheets into the bargain. But even Martha needs some help. And tonight, the search for her protégé begins. As you might expect, the multimedia magnate has chosen only the best candidates. These go-getters include lawyers, cooking teachers, and public relations experts, and their challenges range from running a coffee bar and rewriting fairy tales to devising hotel concepts for "personal renewal." But for all the success these high-powered entrepreneurs have had in their chosen fields, they'd better hope that the Doyenne of Domesticity doesn't give them the task of solving a decorating nightmare.

Supreme Court Confirmation Hearings (09/12/05)

2009-03-26T17:04:00.001-07:00

Will John G. Roberts -- the first nominee to the U.S. Supreme Court since 1994 -- be remembered for serving on America's highest court, or as a footnote in its history books? In the last few decades, some candidates have sailed through the process with little controversy, while others haven't fared as well. In 1968, Lyndon Johnson nominated Justice Abe Fortas for Chief Justice, but his nomination was filibustered and withdrawn. In 1970, G. Harrold Carswell was dismissed as not being distinguished enough for the Court. In defense of the judge, Senator Roman Hruska of Nebraska asked, "Even if he is mediocre, there are a lot of mediocre judges and people and lawyers. They are entitled to a little representation, aren't they?" The most controversial nominee in recent years was Judge Robert Bork, whose name has had the dubious distinction of becoming a verb. Following the judge's unsuccessful nomination in 1987, "to Bork" now means "to seek to obstruct a political appointment or selection." Whether Judge Roberts becomes a justice or a figure of speech, only the Senate can say.

Eating Contests (08/16/05)

2009-03-26T17:03:00.001-07:00

Hungry? Think you've got an appetite for chicken wings, hot dogs, or ribs? Do you return to the buffet line for seconds? You're an amateur compared to professional competitors, large and small, who come from all over the globe to eat in competitive events. With their ability to consume mass quantities of everything from salty-ball potatoes to sticks of butter in record times, these champions give new meaning to the words "fast food." It took Carlene LeFevre only 18 minutes to eat the world famous 72-ounce Big Texan Steak -- with a baked potato, salad, shrimp cocktail, and rolls. Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas, another notable "gurgitator," weighs a mere 100 pounds, but holds more than 20 world eating records, including 11 pounds of cheesecake in just nine minutes. Still think you can keep up? If so, it's time to loosen your belt and head back to that buffet for thirds -- or even fourths.

Celebrity Religion (07/27/05)

2009-03-26T17:01:00.000-07:00

From all the attention that Tom Cruise's recent appearances on Oprah and the Today Show received, one would think that no celebrities were ever forthcoming about their religious affiliation. But there's a long tradition of celebrity spirituality, from Bing Crosby and Mel Gibson's Catholicism and Cat Stevens' conversion to Islam, to Hollywood's fascination with Kabbalah. Some claim that blues musician Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his guitar-playing ability. There are even celebrities who have had religions based on their life and work. Of course, there are some notables who would never declare their beliefs... or have they?

The Future Ain't What It Used To Be (02/23/09)

2009-03-26T16:59:00.001-07:00

Remember the Future? When everything was going to be clean and bright and efficient? When we'd all be whizzing around in flying cars to supervise our robots or eating meals in pill form?

I was reminded of those days that never were when I saw that February 21 was the anniversary of Waldo Waterman's first test flight of his "Aerobile," the world’s first flying car -- in 1937! 1937?! You mean, we've had flying cars for over 70 years, and no one bothered to tell me? And to make matters worse, Glenn Curtis built a flying car in 1917?! (Though, to be fair, that model may not have made it off the ground).

Waterman was an aviation genius, but he was never able to make his flying car practical. He built six of them, and only five of those flew -- and only two of those were able to make the first test flight from California to Ohio.

Reading about the Aerobile made me wonder if there were any other inventions that were supposed to be parts of the far future, but had actually already existed. Somehow we didn't even notice how big-screen TVs infiltrated our homes or how computers went from filling whole rooms to fitting on our laps.

And robots? Most of us still don't have robots to run our space ships or clean our homes (or do we?), but who knew that the first robots were built in 1206(!), or that there were human-like robots in movies as early (or as late, I suppose) as 1920, or that they were walking around the 1939 New York World’s Fair?

The more I looked, the more revelations appeared. Personal jet-packs? Done. Death rays? Old hat. Moving sidewalks? Barely worth mentioning. Heck, even Disneyland’s "House of the Future," which showcased such unimaginable gadgets as microwave ovens and PicturePhones became obsolete and was torn down in 1967!

While teleportation, man-made food, and interstellar travel still aren’t commonplace, we have to admit we’re glad that such "innovations" as artichoke hair and glass clothing never came to be. Although that head-mounted flashlight does look pretty sweet...

This Week in the Yahoo! Directory (02/27/09)

2009-03-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

"What's in the daily news? I'll tell you what’s in the daily news."

So this afternoon I took a gander at what folks were looking for on the Interwebs; seeing what people are searching for or sending to each other. As I surfed, it occurred to me that we have a lot of information in the Yahoo! Directory on those very subjects; the things that people are interested in, whether it be the Obama's dog; the doings at the caves in Lascaux, France; serial killers; Tiger Woods's comeback (and his wife, of course); or baseball gearing up again (not to mention the question of just where Manny Ramirez is going to end up).

So take a look at the Yahoo! Directory, won't you? The more you know about the stuff you’re interested in, the more interesting it (and you) will be.

The Eighth Wonder of the World (3/2/09)

2009-03-26T16:57:00.001-07:00

It probably wasn’t very long after the Lumière Brothers invented the motion-picture camera that someone realized if you stopped the camera, you could make objects appear or disappear on screen in the blink of an eye. Certainly pioneering filmmaker Georges Méliès realized that by 1899 when he made his film "The Conjuror."

But the year before Méliès made his film, American J. Stuart Blackton figured out if you just repositioned things, instead of moving them on- and off-camera, you could make inanimate objects seem to move on their own.

While Blackton became known as the "Father of American Animation," most of his films were trifles and filled with gimmicks that failed to move the plot forward. As pioneering as his techniques were, decades passed before they truly came to fruition in the work of Willis O’Brien, whose birthday we note today.

O'Brien was originally a sculptor, but in the 1910s was hired by Thomas Edison to create stop-motion short films -- most of which featured dinosaurs. O'Brien began using clay for his creations, but he soon developed models that had articulated metal skeletons covered with plastic or rabbit fur. In 1925, he achieved new heights with his work in the film "The Lost World," which featured a brontosaurus running amok through London. But that film was only a warm-up for O'Brien's masterpiece, "King Kong" (which, coincidentally, also opened on this day in 1933). Working on his largest scale ever, O'Brien was able to actually shape Kong's performance, making the giant ape the most sympathetic character in the film -- never mind that his pathos was combined with bouts of ingesting and crushing people.

O'Brien continued animating until his death in 1962, revisiting giant apes in "Son of Kong" and "Mighty Joe Young," but he never again scaleed the heights he reached in 1933.

O'Brien's work may seem a little primitive to modern eyes, but without it, we’d have no Wallace and Gromit, Gumby, or even Davey and Goliath. Many of today’s CGI animators got their inspiration from watching the original "King Kong." So, on this most animated of days, let's raise a toast -- a banana daiquiri, say -- to the man who created the "Eighth Wonder of the World."

A Wunnerful, A Wunnerful (3/11/09)

2009-03-26T16:55:00.000-07:00

He didn't speak English at until he was 21, and even then, he spoke it with a thick German accent. The music he played was considered corny and outdated even at its peak. But Lawrence Welk, whose 103rd birthday we celebrate today, remains one of the unlikeliest -- and most popular -- of all television stars.

Welk was born on a rural North Dakota farm, but longed to become a musician. He assured his father that he would work on the farm until he was 21 if the elder Welk would spend $400 on an accordion. Thus armed, young Lawrence set out on his 21st birthday for such metropolises as Yankton, SD to follow his dream.

The music industry of the mid-1920s was different from today's. Sure, kids with bands traveled around, trying to get recording contracts, but those bands had names like "The Hotsy Totsy Boys" or "The Honolulu Fruit Gum Orchestra," and played hot fox-trots and quicksteps -- or even waltzes -- on trombones, trumpets, and saxophones. Welk was able to parlay his North Dakota fame into work as far afield as Pittsburgh. There, his music was described "as light and bubbly as champagne," leading Welk to call his band's tunes "champagne music." It was a brand some listeners found to be sticky sweet (lacking the swing and drive of other bands), but others found it just right.

By the 1940s, Welk's orchestra had a regular gig at Chicago's Trianon Ballroom, but following World War II, the popularity of big bands began to fade, so Welk moved his organization to Los Angeles, where a local television station gave them airtime. The show caught on, and the Welk program was soon picked up by ABC, where it remained for the next 16 years. When ABC cancelled the show in 1971, Welk syndicated it for another eleven.

Welk was a savvy businessman who died as one of the wealthiest men in show business. His influence is enduring -- reruns of his syndicated show are still one of the most popular attractions on public television, and the Welk resort in Branson, MO is one of that town's most visited, both for those looking to mock its corniness or to revel in its old-fashioned charms.

Another Slice of Pi (3/13/09)

2009-03-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

Requiem For a Stooge (3/17/09)

2009-03-26T16:52:00.000-07:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged that men like The Three Stooges and women do not. But even among Stooge partisans, controversy reigns as to who the greatest is. Most fans will opt for Curly, while others rank Moe as the ne plus ultra of Stoogedom. My own preference is for Larry (seriously -- he's indispensible in his role as the moderating ego to Moe's superego and Curly’s id). But a strong argument can be made for the man we celebrate today: Shemp Howard.

Shemp was born Samuel Horowitz, but his mother's inability to pronounce his name led to his unique sobriquet. Shemp and his brother Harry Moses -- soon to be known as "Moe" -- were stage struck as kids, frequently playing hooky to attend local vaudeville and theatre performances. Moe carved out a career for himself in movies and vaudeville, but Shemp was a slow starter, making his film debut in 1919’s "Spring Fever," alongside Moe and baseball Hall of Famer Honus Wagner.

Moe found work as a foil for fellow vaudevillian Ted Healy. In a 1923 appearance, he spotted Shemp in the audience. The brothers started heckling one another to the audience’s delight, and Healy hired Shemp to join the act.

By 1930, Healy and his "Racketeers" (or ultimately, "Stooges") made it to Hollywood. But Shemp, who had never gotten along with Healy, quit the act (to be replaced by his youngest brother, Jerry, also known as "Curly") and struck out on his own. With his comedic flair and unusual looks (he was billed as "The Ugliest Man in Hollywood"), he quickly found success working as a character actor with such stars as Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle, W.C. Fields, and Abbott and Costello -- even appearing in a dramatic role opposite John Wayne.

In 1946, a stroke left Curly unable to perform, so Shemp stepped in on a "temporary" basis that lasted for the next decade, though the three Howards did make their only film appearance together in 1947’s "Hold That Lion."

Shemp himself died of a massive heart attack in 1955. Producer Jules White completed a number of unfinished films using a body double, leading to an immortalizing tradition that seems appropriate for a Stooge. To this day, when actors are hired to double for other actors while wearing heavy makeup or being filmed only from the back, they're referred to as a "Fake Shemp."

Can You Hear Me Now? (10/29/07)

2009-03-26T16:50:00.001-07:00

From Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part I:

Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man, but will they come when you do call for them?

Well, if you believe the proponents of EVP, the spirits will come. EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomena, is one of the ways ghost hunters "prove" that the dead walk among us, even though we can't hear or see them. The technique is simple enough that anyone can do it. First, set up a recording device in a place where voices couldn't possibly be heard or where you suspect ghosts are lurking. Next, leave the recorder running or ask questions. Finally, listen to the (mostly unintelligible) recording. If you're lucky, you'll get such fascinating messages from the afterworld as "what's that" or "not me." If the dearly departed were making so much effort to send a signal from the Great Beyond, maybe they should be more interesting or informative. But, hey, who are we to criticize the dead? Regardless of whether EVPs are legit or not, even the skeptic in us has to admit they're pretty creepy.

There Was a Hot Time in Tunguska That Night (7/1/2008)

2009-03-26T16:49:00.002-07:00

One hundred years later, no one is sure exactly what happened. Eyewitnesses described a column of blue light as bright as the sun that tore the sky in two and set it on fire, followed by an explosion the likes of which humans had never seen or heard.It all happened in Tunguska, Russia, on July 1, 1908, when something came from the sky and devastated more than 800 square miles, flattening an estimated 80 million trees. The explosion was estimated at 1000 times the power of the atomic bomb that destroyed Hiroshima. It was seen from 100 miles away, and the shock wave broke windows 250 miles from the point of impact. An Englishman reported that the sky on the north coast of Britain that night was so bright that he "could read a book by it."The most surprising thing about the event was that virtually no lives were lost. Thanks to the remoteness of the impact site (the center of Siberia), the only casualty was a reindeer herder who was thrown into the air and against a tree -- twenty miles from ground zero. Astonishingly, for all the commotion, there was no immediate investigation. The first exploration party didn't arrive until 1927, and no one thought to take aerial photographs until 1938. Numerous theories of what the event was have been floated: asteroids, comets, black holes, antimatter, UFOs -- even Nikola Tesla testing a death ray. But no one theory provides all the answers.If it was an asteroid, we can be thankful that it struck where it did. Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson has warned that if an asteroid hit in the right part of the Pacific Ocean, it would wipe out most of the Pacific Rim. Sounds like Russia got off cheap.

Great American Grump-Out, My @#$%

2009-03-26T16:49:00.001-07:00

When we read that May 7 is the Great American Grump-Out, we naturally wondered, "What in the heck is that?" We soon learned that it's a challenge to Americans to go 24 hours "without being grumpy, crabby, or rude" in order to promote "peace, harmony, and lighthearted humor."That sounded like a great idea until we looked at it a little more closely: It occurred to us that while a world of peace and harmony is a noble goal, nothing would get accomplished. It's the dissatisfied grumps of the world who make things happen.Look at the facts. Of all the Seven Dwarfs, who got things done? Doc? Happy? Dopey, for Pete’s sake? No, it was Grumpy. Without him telling the other six to get back to work in the diamond mine, they'd have sat around the house all day, cleaning and singing songs. And which of the Marx Brothers made things happen? Not the angelic Harpo, the shady Chico, or the bland Zeppo. Nope, it was Groucho.What about nature? How does an oyster make a pearl? By a grain of sand irritating it.Do you think Thomas Edison was "happy and satisfied?" No, he was fed up with sitting in the dark, listening to nothing. Was Alexander Graham Bell "peaceful and lighthearted," or was he looking for a more efficient way for marketers to reach him?Need we add who keeps things from becoming moribund on Sesame Street?And what about The Spark? Where would we be without snarkiness? We'd be stuck writing about kittens and My Little Pony.So while we thank the "No Grump" people for their sentiment, we'll depend on the crabs to keep things progressing.

What Do You Get for the Man Who Knows Everything?

2009-03-26T16:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Mr. NostredameYou'd probably never predict it, but one of the things we love to do at the Spark is translating the works of Medieval French writers. One of our favorites is Michel de Nostredame, aka, Nostradamus. Imagine our surprise, then, to come across this particular quatrain: When the bird has devoured the cat,And the ass has trampled that big thing with the long nose,Someone in a cube of metal and fabricWill write a paean to me on my birthday.Well, with that hanging over our heads, how could we not celebrate? Mike (as we like to call him) earned his living as a pharmacist, but became known for his prophecies that foresaw everything from Napoleon to the hula hoop with startling accuracy (or not, depending on who you talk to). Regardless, Mike, we wish you a happy 503rd birthday! We'd have gotten you a present, but you would have known what it was before even unwrapping it -- and we hate that!

A Helluva Trip

2007-03-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

So, we went back to lovely Carbondale, IL, this past weekend to throw a surprise 80th birthday party for Pidge's mom, Joan.

To get to Carbondale (which we worked out, by the way, was where Hooterville from "Green Acres" was set) from San Francisco, one flies into St. Louis Lambert Airport, then drives 120 miles southeast.

Because we didn't want to arrive in the middle of the night, we chose to leave in the middle of the night; that is to say, to take the 7:40 flight from SFO to STL, arriving at about 1:15, then arriving in Carbondale sometime before 5, meeting Pidge's brother and sister-in-law for dinner. (There are two other American Airlines flights from SF to StL daily, at something like noon and 3 pm.)
Well, even though we knew we needed to get up at about 4 to make it to the airport in time (including showering, driving, long-term parking, shuttle, and check-in time), we neither us of got to sleep much before 12:30.

But, in spite of our tiredness, things went well. In the terminal by 6 or so, breakfasted and on the plane a little past 7. Things went so efficiently, in fact, that we were going to leave a little early. Pidge and I were in a three-seat row, and since no one showed up to take the window seat, we spread out (Pidge with all her magazines in two seat-back pockets) and removed our shoes.
We assumed our place on the runway ("Second in line," the pilot assured us), and at the appropriate hour, began our taxi down the runway to take off. We're going great guns, and virtually in the air, when there's a loud BANG! and the plane slows down. Everyone wonders what the hell just happened, and the pilot immediately assures us that our right engine wasn't getting enough pressure, so we were going back to the terminal to let the engineers figure out if they could fix it or if they needed to take us all off of the plane. We make it back to the gate, and everyone sits there, trying to figure out if we're getting off or going on our way to the Midwest. After five or ten minutes, the pilot comes back on the intercom and informs us that we are indeed deplaning, and that we should see the agent at the gate to make substitute travel arrangements. When we get off, that agent asks everyone who is connecting in St. Louis to other cities to get in line, and everyone who is going only to the Gateway City to just wait.

Pidge, being the worrywart she is, gets on her cell to the airline and, after finding out it's okay to make the alternate arrangement (they have to get official word that the flight has been cancelled), books us on an 9:50 flight to Los Angeles, and an 11:35 flight from there to St. Louis, so we'll be late, but only by about three hours. It was darned fortunate she did this, since the two other SFO/STL flights and the all the LAX/STL flights were soon sold out. I would wager, though, that almost all of the original St. Louis-only passengers made it onto the LAX flight.
So, 9:30 comes and we all get on our second plane of the day. We again spread out and take our shoes off. The plane takes off a little late, but given that it's only a fifty-three minute flight, it shouldn't be a problem to make our connection.

The flight goes smoothly, and as we reach LA, I'm looking out the window at various landmarks, trying to figure out just where we are. One of the first things I notice is the Coliseum, which we slowly pass over from west to east. I start thinking that the airport is a good 15 miles west of the Coliseum, and I begin wondering we we're continuing so far east and away from the airport. Finally, somewhere over Orange County, we begin a long right turn and head back to LAX. I'm guessing that, coming in at that time of day, we're stuck in some kind of traffic holding pattern and our boarding time is drawing closer and closer. In the meantime, the flight attendant gives a rundown of which gates will be hosting which connecting flights. We hear where the St. Louis flight is connecting, but it doesn't really register. We figure we'll ask the person at the desk or check the monitors.

Finally -- just before 11 -- we land. However . . . I've been going to LAX for over 40 years, man and boy, and have never seen this particular part of the airport we landed at. We're -way- off to the west of the terminals (at least, I'm guessing that from how we taxi), and we taxi and taxi and taxi -- about ten minutes worth. All the time, I'm looking at my watch, and seeing our 11:05 boarding time come closer and rapidly fly away until we at last arrive at the terminal. We stop, everyone shoots out of their seats, and Pidge takes a few cuts (fortunately, we were near the front of the plane) by explaining we're rushing to make a connection. Everyone understands and lets us exit quickly.

We race to the monitors and see that our St. Louis flight is leaving fro mGate 48B -- the very same gate -- and plane -- we've just exited. Feeling like dopes, we look at the sign at the gate and see that the flight has been delayed from 11:30 to something like 11:55. Knowing we're okay, we sit and wait for the plane to empty and be serviced. Finally, we're ready to board, we get on, find our seats, spread out again, and wait for takeoff.

As we taxi down the runway, I notice an odor that smells like something burning. I'm alarmed for a second, but figure it's one of those airplane smells and ignore it.

I spend the first few minutes of the flight, just looking out the window at the amazing number of swimming pools in LA and trying to figure out where we are when, about ten minutes into the flight, the pilot comes over the intercom and mentions that we've had some mechanical problems and need to head back to LAX. We make another long slow turn and make our second landing of the day in Los Angeles. As we taxi back to the gate we'd just left, I notice a couple of fire engines tailing us. The pilot comes back on the com and tells us (again) that they're going to try to figure out what went wrong and if we'll need to deplane or continue on. I keep looking out the window and see a guy in a hazmat suit. Soon enough, the pilot comes back and tells us we need to get off. This time, though, there's nothing mentioned about alternate arrangements. Pidge tries calling the airline again, but since the flight still hasn't been officially cancelled, they can't rebook us.

As we get off, the woman at the desk makes the announcement to hang around the area until they figure out what they're going to do. A little after 12, they tell us that they have another plane and are going to put us all on it. They'll tell us where to go in a little while. A little after 12:30, they tell us they'll have an announcement by 1:15. Finally, about 1:10, they tell us that we all have to change gates, so we're moving down to gate 42. We get there and eventually the woman tells us that since the original flight has been cancelled, they're going to dragoon a plane that's due to leave to Mexico and put us all on it. But since the original flight has been cancelled, we'll all have to stand in line and get new boarding passes for the new flight -- the information about which will be forthcoming. All this time, the message baord in back of her is flashing contradictory information -- that our flight has been cancelled; that it hasn't; that it's leaving at 2, 2:15, or 2:30; that we should be at this gate; that we should be at another gate.

(Allow me to say here that the airline people we great; they kept us fully informed as best they could, even if the information they were getting from upstairs made no sense.)
After about 20 minutes in the new line, they tell us that the Mexico flight we were going to take over was going to proceed as planned, and that we were going to get a whole new plane. (Fortunately, we were at LAX, rather than some smaller airport that had fewer spare aircraft.) But we now all needed to go back to the original gate, although since it was the same kind of aircraft as the original one that had been pulled out of service (it turned out that it had an oil leak that seeped into the air conditioning -- hence the burning I smelled), we could keep our same boarding passes and seat assignments. The problem was that the plane we were getting wouldn't be in until about 2:15 and that, between cleaning and servicing it, we wouldn't take off until nearly 3. That was fine; just get us to St. Louis. (They also offered $10 meal vouchers, but we'd already eaten.)

Finally, the new plane comes in, they get everyone off, and the clock ticks closer to 2:45. The desk woman comes back on the loudpeaker and tells us that, because the flight crew is getting near the end of the time they can work, we have to have everyone on the aircraft, seated and belted up, and the door closed by 3:05, or they'll have to postpone they flight while they dig up another crew. That gets us all panicky, so we rush onto the plane. As we get on, the attendants make an announcement that some folks who were on the regularly scheduled 3:00 flight had snuck onto our plane (good security!) and had to get off -- NOW -- or else. We all do our best to hustle them off , and somehow we get it all done by 3, with five minutes to spare.

This time, we do not spread out, Pidge does not take out all her magazines, we do not take our shoes off. We get in the air, and we all hold our breaths, waiting to see what's going to happen this time.

Well, somehow, nothing does. We arrive at STL at 8:20, only seven hours late (which is actually remarkable, considering all we've been through), and as we head for baggage claim (and god only knows where our checked bags have been all this time), we can't help but notice that the St. Louis airport virtually rolls up its sidewalks early. At 8:30 on a Friday night, all the bars and shops and closed and locked (and, seeing the presence of janitors, seems that they have been closed for quite some time) and that there's virtually no one in the terminal.

We arrive at baggage claim, and after a very brief search, Pidge finds our bags, which had been put on the 12:00 SFO/STL flight. We picked them up, the woman at the desk checked out tags, and out we went to catch our Dollar rental car shuttle. The Dollar desk at the terminal was closed, so we called the number on the sign, told them we were there (we'd phoned earlier to push our car and hotel reservations back), and headed upstairs to the pickup area.

It was a cold and rainy night in St. Louis, but fortunately, the pick-up area was covered over. Fortunate in that after five, ten, fifteen minutes, the guy still wasn't there. Pidge called again to verify we were where we were supposed to be. Twenty minutes. Another couple shows up. Shuttles -- multiple shuttles -- from every other rental company pass us by and still nothing. Twenty-five minues. The guy from the other couple calls the company. "He's on his way."

Finally, after a half an hour, the guy shows with some lame excuse about how traffic was backed up at the other terminal and how he just couldn't make it any faster. (We were dubious, but after seeing how things were this morning, it might have been true.) He takes us to the rentl facility, we are able to get the car -- a Dodge PT Cruiser -- and head off to Carbondale.

Of course, since we're both hungry, we stop at a Jack in the Box to get some snacks and something to drink. That holds us up a little more, and we finally get on the road about 9:50, in the pouring rain.

Unbelieveably, the drive itself is uneventful -- if tiring -- and we make it to the Carbondale Holiday Inn just after midmight -- eighteen hours after we got up in Pacifica.

Coming up next: The Noisiest Hotel in the World

Two For One

2006-12-23T21:53:00.000-08:00

So, we're in New York for Xmas, and of course, there's no chance of snow. Too warm and not enough precipitation. It's still pretty cold (given the wind chill), but not enough.

Anyway, we went to see Michael Feinstein's Christmas show at the Regency last night. I had just seen "The Drowsy Chaperone" for the fourth time, and on the cab ride to the hotel, I mentioned to Pidge that at spent a good part of the evening watching Bob Martin as "Man in Chair;" the show is amazingly tight after a year and his performance is amazing in that he's so focused.
So, anyway, we're in line at the Regency, and I'm quoting some line for Pidge and who should walk right past us to see the same show but Bob Martin and his wife, Janet Van de Graaf. I went mental. And then to top it off, they were seated right next to us. I waited until after the show (Feinstein introduced him from the stage and he was on his way backstage), but after he paid his bill (in cash), I leaned over, extended my hand, and told him that I had seen the show for the fourth time that night, and was a huge fan of him, the show, and "Slings and Arrows," the Canadian TV show about a Shakespeare festival that he co-created. That was the right note, in that he thanked me and said that he's always glad to hear that someone likes the show, as it's special to him. I mentioned that I couldn't wait for Season Three (which is true), and he told me it'd be available in a few months.

So, we left the club and headed for the bathrooms. I came out and, while waiting for Pidge, who should I see but Bucky Pizzarelli, who had just finished playing for Feinstein. I said, "Oh, my god, it's you," and extended my hand. I told him that I was a huge admirer of him, his sons, and his daughter in law and thanked him. We shook hands, and I left, walking on air, having met two
people whom I admire greatly.

It's been a great trip so far. Good shows ("Room Service;" good lively production. "Mary Poppins;" a relentless entertainment machine, but incredibly well directed. "The Drowsy Chaperone;" I just love that show. "The Apple Tree;" quite entertaining, though it didn't feel as big as it did at Encores. "The Coast of Utopia: Shipwreck;" Not quite as good as the first part, but still one helluva show. Lots of food (too damn much; Junior's; Hell's Kitchen; Keen's Chophouse; Burger Joint), with more to come.

We went to Rockefeller Center after "The Apple Tree" to go to the observation deck. It was incredibly cold, but with great views. We went up Fifth Avenue afterwards, and it was just packed with people shopping and looking at Xmas decorations. Very hard to move, with Pidge vowing not to go back. We plan on on going ice skating at Bryant Park tomorrow after Katz's Delicatessen and "Company."

2006-10-23T22:51:00.001-07:00

2006-10-23T22:51:00.000-07:00

I have to tell someone: I met Hal Prince today. (For those not in the know; Hal Prince is probably the most important director of musicals in the 20th century, and certainly the most important producer of them: Short list of his credits (in chronological order): The Pajama Game, Damn Yankees, West Side Story, Fiorello!, Tenderloin, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, She Loves Me, Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, Zroba, Company, Follies, A Little Night Music, Pacific Overtures, On the Twentieth Century, Sweeney Todd, Merrily We Roll Along, Evita, The Phantom of the Opera, and Show Boat.)

Pidge and I had a weekend in NY (four shows: Grey Gardens [good, not great]; Heartbreak House [brilliant]; The Drowsy Chaperone [3rd time; I love that show]; and Tom Stoppard's Coast of Utopia: Part One [epic; amazing direction (Jack O'Brien) and deep, deep script]; not to mention two cabaret shows [saw Stritch at the Carlyle -- cost an arm and a leg, but worth it]).

Anyway, we were in the airport this morning, waiting for our flight from JFK to SFO (via Las Vegas). I looked over to my left and saw an old guy sitting by himself. I turned to Pidge and said (jokingly), "That guy looks like Hal Prince." I looked again, and realized it was actually him. He was making phone calls and texting messages, and impatiently waiting to get on the plane. Finally, when I saw my chance, I went up to him and said, "Mr. Prince. I'm a director and just want to thank you for your work. You're an inspiration for all of us." He shook my hand, thanked me, and said, "Well, that's a nice thing to hear first thing in the morning." He asked if I lived in New York. I told him, "No, San Francisco." "Ah, that's where you live -- and work?" I said yes. He asked my name: I told him, and said, "I hope to meet you again." I told him "likewise," shook hands again, and went back to Pidge, shaking from the adrenaline rush.
When we got on the plane (I assume he was going to Vegas to check up on Phantom), he was in the right aisle seat in the front row. I smiled at him, he winked, and I just had to crack up.

I was so stoked; still am.

Off to L.A.

2006-09-07T23:49:00.000-07:00

Well, been a while, hasn't it?

I so meant to do a day-by-day report of my trip to New York, but the connection problems in the hotel were so miserable (I never knew from night to night -- hell, from moment to moment -- whether I'd have a wireless connection) that it just wasn't worth it.

Of course, why that's prevented me from writing anything for the three months since is a cosmic mystery.

Anyway, I'm going to Los Angeles tomorrow for a quick trip. The Director's Lab Gold Medal Class of '04 is having a reunion, so my plan is to go down Friday afternoon, have dinner (I crave a Big Boy combo) and see a movie (probably "Idiocracy"), breakfast Saturday (brunch with Kathy), followed by a matinee of "Curtains," then the reunion, and straight to the airport from there. I do tend to cram things in. Strange trip, though; between the inability to take any liquids (or toiletries) on the plane and the whole leave-Friday-afternoon-return-Saturday-night aspect, it's damn odd. I hate the idea of having to buy a stick of deodorant and a tube of toothpaste just to throw them out. Makes me wonder if the whole London terrorism plot was a massive scheme of the part of the personal care cartel.

"Rosencrantz & Guildenstern" actually ended up going pretty well. I was happy overall, and Pidge thought it was some of the best work I've done. so that's the only validation I really need. (We'll see how that translates to "Mrs. Bob.") The reviews were good, though, and we sold out the run, so that's the other important validation. They're doing "Midsummer" next year, and I wouldn't mind being asked back at all.

Getting ready for "Mrs. Bob" auditions in a couple of weeks. My perfect cast has thinned out some; two of my "sure things" opted out, and I have a feeling that two more may join them. I probably won't have trouble filling their shoes, but can't vouch for the quality. Not that the subs will be bad; it's just that they won't be my first choices.

NYC: Days 2 and 3

2006-06-17T01:34:00.000-07:00

Well, in spite of my good intentions to update this every day, the vagaries of the Internet just wouldn’t let me.

My plan had been to do as I did last year here at the Cosmo by unplugging the cord from the phone and plugging it into the computer’s phone jack. Unfortunately, the hotel outwitted my maneuver by not only buying phones that don’t allow this, but also using cords that can’t be unplugged from the wall without more trouble than it’s worth (not to mention the hassle I had last year in having to place a deposit to make outside phone calls).

I was able to piggyback onto a wireless network with no trouble Tuesday night, but Wednesday was a comedy of errors, as I kept getting booted off networks after only a couple of minutes in every case. After what seemed like hours of attempts, I finally had to throw the towel in.

What I missed writing about was how I broke one of the windows here in my room. I tried and tried and tried to raise the window in order to get some more fresh air in here (it can get hot and stuffy – supposed to be in the mid 90s Saturday, with a heat index of 100), and the damn thing was jammed. I kept trying and trying to get the thing raised and it finally cracked – big time. I left it alone for the night. I was tempted to go down to the desk to tell them and give them enough time to call a glazier, but it was 4:30 in the morning and I figured it could wait until I left Wednesday morning. Well, given the noise from outside (even worse tonight, I slept for shit.) When I did leave, I stopped at the desk, expecting them to give me a hassle over paying for the window (which I would have felt some kind of obligation to do), but the woman didn’t even bat an eye, saying they’d fix it right away, and she called a maintenance guy. End of that story – except when I came back Wednesday night, and saw that there was a two-foot gap at the top of the window. I tried raising the window again, but it was still stuck . . . and then I realized that the bottom window doesn’t raise, the top one does – which makes no sense, given the way the lock is constructed, but hey, I can close it and block out most of the noise – seems like all they do in this city is pick up garbage all night. . .

Anyway. . .

Wednesday morning, I went to the South Street Seaport to buy my ticket for the evening performance (I already had bought my “Faith Healer” ticket online), and expected the usual long line and 30 minute wait. Imagine my surprise when my TKTS experience of Tuesday was repeated and there were only three people ahead of me. I saw that they had “The Lieutenant of Inishmore,” and got the ticket, leaving me with plenty of time to kill, so I decided to rustle up some breakfast, which I did, getting a turkey salad wrap, which wasn’t bad. By the time I finished, it was time to get in line for the show, and into the theatre I went. The show was at the Booth, which is one of my favorite Broadways houses (it was my favorite until I got looks at the Belasco and the Lyceum, which are just as nice), small and intimate.

There was a small mix-up with my seat, as a woman was sitting in the wrong seat, but she and her husband moved over with no trouble and the show proceeded.

It’s a very, very good show. Probably the best thing I’ve seen Ralph Fiennes do. He’s usually so restrained and bottled up, and he gets a chance to loosen up here and, if not charm the audience, then to play off them and have some fun.

He finished his monologue, we went into the scene change, they let the latecomers in, and Cherry Jones starts her monologue – and this piercing squeal from some woman’s hearing aid begins. The entire audience gets pissed off (excepting the oblivious woman her companions, who didn’t bother to do anything about it), and we spend the next ten minutes hearing ushers try to find her, her adjusting the damn thing, and various levels and types of squeals. The woman next to me (who’d been in the wrong seat) turns to me and complains about the house staff doing nothing. Through it all, Jones perseveres, acting away, either oblivious to the noise or just knowing it’ll be taken care of eventually. Finally, the noise stops, and we can all concentrate on the play. Comes intermission, and the woman next to me and I start talking about the deaf woman (who apparently was getting indignant that people were telling her off) and who we were. She and her husband had taken the day to come from DC to see the show. She had become curious about it after reading a review and wondering if it would have any resonance for her job and an “energy healer” (I know. . . ) I talked a little about myself, the Booth, and Brian Friel (about whom I wrote my thesis), and eventually Act Two began.

Given my overall lack of sleep on Wednesday morning (I can’t call it Tuesday night), I was dopey for the entire Act, and it was a real struggle to make it to the end. I’m 99% sure I saw it all, but it wasn’t easy.

Again, very, very good show. Fiennes good, Jones good (I’ve seen her better, and she had no dialect – which surprised me since I’d read she did extensive work and her coach gets a program credit), and Ian MacDiarmid – with the flashiest role – very good. Nicely directed, with a very interesting scene change effect that I’d like to steal sometime, if the occasion ever arises (traveler moves across the stage, and the set gets brought on or struck behind it as it travels).

After the show, I had a few hours to kill, so I went to Virgil’s BBQ on 44th. I’m usually leery of places in the theatre district, but I’d read good things about Virgil’s and I love the barbecue, so I went. Had a lovely salad – lettuce, chunky blue cheese, red onions (which I picked out), and a bacon vinaigrette – and a combo plate with pork and brisket. It was tasty, but overall inferior to, say, the Rib Shack in Daly City. Not bad, but not great, either.

By this time, it was time to leave for “Lieutenant.” I wanted to see it anyway, but being at the Lyceum made it irresistible. In all my years of coming here, I’ve never seen anything there. It’s a beautiful house, again small and much more interesting that the Booth from a decorative and architectural standpoint. I was disappointed to see that David Wilmot (the eponymous character) was out, but the understudy was quite good, so I guess I didn’t miss him too much. I was still having some drowsiness problems, but the play is so good and so funny – and so gory; jeezus god, I wondered how they clean up the set and costumes every night, not to mention wondering if they go through eight wigs a week when one character gets a ponytail cut off. No one, absolutely no one, writes like McDonagh, and the whole thing is hysterically funny at the same time it’s grim and bloody.

So far I haven’t seen a bum show (no "Paris Letter"s in this collection . . .) yet.

Thursday was DaveCon, and my plan was to walk from the hotel to the TGI Friday’s we were meeting at, but just past Houston, I realized that I would have trouble getting there, so I hopped it onto the subway. Got to the restaurant and was extremely confused. The address was on Broadway, but the restaurant is on 7th. I went in, went upstairs, and saw no one, so I went down the block to the Times Square Visitor’s Center, where I could check my email and verify the address. Everything seemed correct, so I thought I should try again, and sure enough, I’d had the right place all along; it was just that the group was around the corner. I caught up with everyone, even if some of the regulars weren’t there – Karen was out of town; Carl, Kathie, and Brady, who knows; Brad getting ready to move to Virginia the next day. After only a few minutes, we had to hoof it over to the Ed and get in line to get our tickets. It was a hot day, but we didn’t have to wait too long, and were soon marched in, given our instructions (be back by 3:45), and released. We went to Rupert’s, as usual, and ordered stuff. I had a lemon lime whippy, which was too sweet and a real mess (I had to use the bathroom in the Ed to hose down and clean my shirt). We chit chatted a little while, and then some of us repaired to the Angelo’s Pizza for drinks. Finally, it was time to get back in line, so off we went. Usually, the ushers will give us the spiel (“no ‘woo’ing, laugh at everything,” etc.), lead us into the lobby, where we wait interminably, and after finally let into the house. This year, though, they must have realized we (of all people) know what to do; they marched us straight from the sidewalk to our seats, with no preamble. It was a nice change of pace.

The show itself was okay. KYCE was good, Sandra Bullock, meh, and the band sucked as much as they had the first time I saw the show (Carl phoned us during dinner, and I told him that, not only could I not remember what they had played then, I honestly couldn’t have done it while they were playing it – they were truly unmemorable).

Afterwards, Tony Mendez came to collect us, and we went into the lobby to shoot our annual episode of the “Tony Mendez Show.” I got some nice face time (we all did), and then it was back into the house for photos and the tour for the new kids – I got to go for the first time in three years; nothing new, but it’s always interesting.

(There’s a car on the street right now, playing deafening rap. I’m three stories up, so I can only wonder how loud it is in the damn car.)

After the tour, we talked to Tony out on the street. He couldn’t go to the party as he had ballet tickets. While we were talking, a car pulled up with some well-dressed women in it. The driver got out and looked like she wanted to ask a question, hesitated a while, then got back in. I went up to the car and asked the passenger, an older woman, if I could help them. They were curious as to what was going on, but were also trying to give away their tickets for “The Threepenny Opera.” I was tempted, but had already paid for the party, so I was going to go. I told them they’d probably have no trouble getting rid of the seats; they told me they’d already been turned down five times. I suggested they try over by the TKTS booth, which they thought was a good idea. I hope they were able to get rid of the tickets; they seemed nice and I hate to see seats go to waste like that. Ironically enough, a little while later, Jim Dale walked by on his way to work (looking damn good for 70), and I saw Ana Gasteyer while walking to the restaurant. (So far I’ve seen Marian Seldes [bustling along northbound on 7th while I was in P.J. Carney’s], George Takei [leaving “Faith Healer”], and Dale and Gasteyer. I saw a woman today who looked a lot like someone, but I’m damned if I can remember who it was. Oh, and there was a woman at “Faith Healer” whom I thought might have been Frances Sternhagen, but I couldn’t swear to it).

We finally got to the restaurant, and even though we were a half hour early, they were able to seat us upstairs in a private area. The food was pretty good (I’d been bitching about having to pay so much, but I almost got my money’s worth – and they forgot to charge me for my first drink). We all talked a while, and then about 9:30, they asked if we could move so they could clean up. We agreed, but since there was no room downstairs, they sent us to their sister restaurant next door, which was horribly loud. After only about a half hour, we repaired to Hurley’s on 48th, where we usually end up. It wasn’t quite as crowded as the other places, but there was still only one table for 8 or 10 of us (the NBA playoffs were on), and after they informed us that it was a one-drink minimum, we left. After a few minutes on the sidewalk, we all parted and headed for homes or hotels (some folks went to Helen Read’s hotel room; I did not, as I was feeling sleepy). Cheryl Levenbraun and I walked to the Times Square subway station, and after a few minutes, my train came, and I was off for the hotel. I was up until 4:30 again, trying to do some work (which I’ll subtract from my hours next week, natch), and dealing with more connectivity issues. (I don’t understand how a signal can go from “Excellent” to gone in only a few minutes.) I figured I could sleep in Friday, which I did.

I’ll get to Friday’s exciting events tomorrow, since it’s now 4:15, and it looks like I’ll hit the trifecta if I don’t watch it . . .

Saturday? “Shining City” in the afternoon, “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” in the evening (I’m only hoping that Norbert is in; he wasn’t in when I bought my ticket Wednesday afternoon – great seat; second row center), then Jessica Molaskey at the Algonquin at 11:30. I’ve been afraid I wouldn’t be able to stay awake for her, but given my late hours this week, I’m hoping it won’t be a problem.

NYC: Day 1

2006-06-14T01:09:00.000-07:00

I promised myself I'd do this, so even though it's after 3 here, I'll give it a go.

The day started at about 4:45, when my alarm went off. I hit the snooze button and rolled over, but then got paranoid that it wouldn't go off again, so I basically just laid there until 5:03, when I got up.

Left the house at 6:03, only ten minutes later than I'd planned, but when I got to the parking lot, the guy kept driving around and picking people up (the nerve!), so I didn't hit the airport until nearly 6:45. Checked in -- the place was packed and it took nearly ten minutes for the poor woman who was manning the self-serve check in area to get to my bag. Finally cleared security sometime after 7, and was on the plane only a few minutes later. A whirlwind morning.

I'd cashed in some miles and was in the first class section, next to one of those women who is helpless without her cell phone and kept making calls about some tickets to some event that had to be confirmed and a trip to China or India (or both; I can't remember). I couldn't have been more fascinated by these calls. She was beaten, however, by the woman who was on the other end of the aisle and continued making cell calls while we were taxiing (long after the announcement to shut down your damn phones had come and gone) and who had to be told three times to shut off her laptop when we were landing. Some people are just too damn pleasant to be around.

The flight itself was pretty smooth and uneventful; some turblulence, but not much. I ate a not-bad omelet, drank a lot of water and juice, and slept a couple of hours. The movie was "The Pink Panther," so it was safe to ignore.

We got in about 15 minutes early, but the hike through the new American terminal at JFK is endless, so it was a push. (Seriously, every time you get around a bend, there's another slidewalk.) I got my bag pretty quickly, and was on the AirTrain by about 4:30, getting the A train about 4:45 and was in the hotel somewhere after 5:30. Called Pidge to let her know I made it, and immediately had to leave for midtown, to hit the TKTS booth to get my ticket for "Sweeney Todd," which has a 7:00 curtain on Tuesdays. I don't know if it's the new location or just the hour, but there was no line at the TKTS booth. I saw "Sweeney" was still on the board and immediately walked up to a window.

Pretty good seat; house left, about 2/3rds back. (Especially good for $59.25.) Pretty good view until the latecomers got seated and Stretch Armstrong seat down in front of me. Top his height with a proclivity to move his head around a lot, and it's a recipe for annoyance.

Some things about the audience tonight. One was the latecomers. They're seated at the first break, 40 minutes in (kudos to John Doyle for directing the show to preclude applause after every number), and among the late people was one woman who was in the middle of the third row. Manoel Felciano, who was playing Tobias, was in the middle of the Pirelli number, and froze solid, not singing, and just followed the woman with his head as she made her way to her seat. Reminded me of Kris Tabori's story about Donald Sinden, who would greet West End latecomers by making sure they had a program and they knew who was who. Felciano got a good laugh and hand and I'll bet that woman is never late to the theatre again. Felciano struck again later in the number, when he played most of the hair tonic stuff to a bald man in the front row.

Lots of kids in the center section -- three rows worth. They were at that indeterminate age: high school kids? College students? and reacted to everything, some of it inappropriate (the sex stuff, of course). Overall, they were really into it (one got the feeling they had done the show themselves) and helped prime the pump for the rest of the audience. The cast seemed genuinely appreciative at the curtain call (for which I had to stand, as usual, to see what was happening; I HATE the manditory standing ovation, but I think Sondheim's point about the audience having spent so much money that they want to prove it to themselves by giving anything a standing O is an excellent one), but that could be their standard call conduct (extra bows, applauding back, etc.).

Also, lots of little kids in the crowd -- like 6 and 7 years old. What kind of parent brings a kid that young (or younger) to a show like this? The smallest one (3? 4?) fussed a little toward the end, but I have to admit they were well-behaved throughout.

The other thing was the weirdness two seats over from me. Late in Act One, the guy started twitching and moving and muttering (or saying quietly) "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." I don't know if he was having some kind of Tourette's attack, but he didn't have anything close to it again, and his outburst was relatively quiet, if disruptive. I doubt if people three rows away heard him. Weird.

Anyway, as to the show. I admit I was a little dubious going in. Doyle seems like a one-trick pony with his "cast-doubles-as-the-orchestra" schtick, but it worked here, and worked really well (especially Patti LuPone on her tuba). Brilliant concept, and since he was the designer, too, it was all of a piece. He really understood what he wanted and got it. Very intense performances by Michael Cerveris (though not as obsessed as his Booth; but then, it was a Tuesday night) and Alexander Geminagni (which surprised me, cause so many people dissed him). Donna Lynne Champlin was very good as Pirrelli, but I just didn't understand how Felciano got a Tony nod for that performance. Decent work, but there were others in the show far better. LuPone was very good -- probably the best thing I've seen her in (certainly better than her final performance in "Evita," when she channeled Lucille Ball), but her ass is huge in her costume. I don't know if it's all her (one assumes it is), since she doesn shake it at the auidence in "God, That's Good," so she's either padded, or they've made the most of an unfortunate situation.

Overall, maybe not as rococo or impressive as the original Sweeney, but certainly a rethinking and a very good night of theatre.

Afterwards, headed to Ray's for a slice and a Pepsi, then to P.J. Carney's bar for a beer. I was going to get some supper there, but nothing looked appealing except for chicken tenders (the menu looked good; it's just I wasn't in a mood for anything on it) and decided to stop at McDonald's on the way back to the subway and get some of their own (less expensive) chicken. On the way, I stopped at Virgin and bought the "Drowsy Chaperone" CD and looked out for "The Brain" and was vastly disappointed. We've got an Answers promotion where some of the power users are living in a two-story structure on the top of the Hard Rock Cafe marquee at the Paramount Building. It's tough to see at all (I completely missed it this evening) and I feel sorry for those folks, having to sit there all day and do nothing but be on Answers. There's a bunk bed on the lower floor, and they're apparently working in shifts so they can go to their hotel rooms in their off hours (the whole thing is supposed to last 72 hours, I think), so it's not too bad, but one gets the feeling that these folks don't get out a lot, and to torture them by putting them in a hot fishbowl in the middle of Times Square and its attractions is a bit cruel. But they seem to be enjoying it on the Video feed. Of course, le'ts see how they do at 4 am Friday morning. . . Regardless, it's hard to spot (even when looking for it), and doesn't seem especially interactive.
Oh, my room. Nicest one at the Cosmo yet. I even have a window this time, although it's really noisy outside. I've managed to piggyback onto someone else's wireless network (thanks, "dickerson"), which is fortunate, since they've rigged the phones so that I can't unplug the wires and plug them into the laptop. Hopefully, I'll continue to have access.

Tomorrow: "Faith Healer" and "The Lieutenant of Inishmore." It's Irish Day!

Jeebus, It's Been That Long?

2006-06-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

Jeebus, It's Been That Long?

Since I posted an entry here? Time sure flies when you're not doing a damn thing, I guess.
We started rehearsals for "R&G" this week. Just a read-through and two nights of table work, but it seemed to go fairly well. Most of the cast read too fast and sort of skimmed through the text, but since I did mention in the beginning that I wasn't looking for either acting or performances, that's what they gave me.

The thing that concerns me the most at this point is that I don't have Carolyn (Guildenstern) for most of next week, and then I leave for New York, so whatever I don't get blocked tomorrow, Monday, or Tuesday will have to wait until the end of the month, and I hate to think that I'll still be blocking that late into the process. But, as I need to focus on, A) anything we block outside of the space will have to be adapted anyway, and B) once I get back , we'll still have a month. Things may be a little rough for the first week of performances, but I have little doubt they'll eventually pull together.

Pidge leaves for Texas in the morning. She's going to some kind of tech writing conference in Dallas from Monday to Thursday, then to Carbondale to visit her mom. I leave for NY on the 13th, and she doesn't get back until the 14th, so we won't see one another for nearly three weeks, which is the longest we'll have ever been apart since she moved to Oregon from Pittsburgh. She's getting a little weepy tonight, as I'm sure I'll be -- and it's always odd around here without her, but I'll persevere. (I've never told anyone this: YEARS ago, I was taking a train somewhere, and the woman next to me was writing a letter. The trip was slightly bumpy, and I looked over to her letter. She was drawing a little train going up- and downhill, mentioning how it wasn't easy to write under these conditions, "but I persevere." Ever since then -- and it's probably close to 20 years -- I have never used the word "persevere" without thinking of her and her letter.)

Anyway . . .

We're going out to Woodside tomorrow for a picnic and rehearsal. For the non-company members, this will be the first time they see the space, and I can only imagine, not only what they'll think, but also what it looks like now. The company members were going out today to rebuild the stage, and I have no idea how much they got done. Hopefully, enough so that I can block a good portion of Act One. I've got them for three hours, so we should be able to get a lot done - maybe even all of the first act, which would be great and do wonders for my mood.

We went to Michael Spector's memorial today. He died of a brain tumor not quite a month ago, and there was such a sense of -- well, loss, of course (I suppose you get that at any funeral/memorial), but just the random unfairness of life. He would have turned 37 just 12 days after he died, but managed to cram so much into those years. I had no idea he had so many interests and friends (the place was packed, and many of those who'd been on the various lists telling about his dying weren't there). I mean, he was a great and funny guy and the best stage manager ever, but I guess it's one of those cases where you can never have a full sense of all the aspects of someone else's life.

More later. . .

Time Flies Like an Arrow . . .

. . . Fruit Flies Like a Banana

Feels like ages since I've posted. Got the job directing "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern." It'll be a challenge, especially since we'll be doing it outdoors and in various locations in a park (or something) in Woodside. Apparently, lots o' trees and hills; not the most conducive atmosphere for a comedic/dramatic examination of the nature of reality and a deconstruction of "Hamlet;" but it's a challenge, so that's good.Did I mention we saw John Pizzarelli two weeks ago in the city? Followed that up last night by seeing Audra McDonald. It's part of a new -- well, not philosophy, but a goal, I guess -- to see great artists when I can, and to not miss them, like I did Sinatra. We're talking about seeing Tony Bennett in Saratoga in September, but the tickets are dear, and I don't know if I want to see him that much -- but, still. . . .

Anyway, both evenings (Pizzarelli and McDonald, that is) were wonderful. It's such a pleasure (for me, anyway) to watch artists who are so skilled and comfortable with their talents that that ease and pleasure becomes almost a palpable sensation for the audience. Pizzarelli signed CDs after the show, so we got one, and I complimented him on the show and asked if his wife, Jessica Molaskey (whom I adore) is working on a new album. He said she was, which thrilled me almost as much as reading (while I was writing this paragraph, in fact) that she'll be appearing at the Algonquin while I'm there. I am so there.McDonald gave a great show, too, with new and old material. She went up twice, which I'm sure wasn't intentional, but reminded me of nothing so much as a magician or a slight-of-hand artist who will "accidentally" fumble a trick in order to make themselves seem more human or to make their feats that much more impressive. The best thing about both evenings (other than the high entertainment value, natch) was the fact that both of them seemed utterly human and down-to-earth, and people I could hang out with, once I got past the hero worship.Read a play called "Pack of Lies," that I'll probably interview for at Palo Alto next week. Very interesting play based on a true case in London in the early 60s. Middle-class English couple is best friends with an American couple across the street. One day, an MI-5 agent appears at the house and asks the English couple if the government can postion an agent to watch the Americans. Eventually we find out that the Americans might be Soviet spies, and we see the havoc it causes with the friendship and how the situation tests the limits of personal privacy, security, friendship, and where we draw those various lines. Very timely, I think (perhaps not as timely as "The White House Murder Case," but then what is?). It turns out that the Americans are, indeed, spies, but that's almost a MacGuffin. I'd really like to do it (time for a heavy drama, I think), and hope Peter hires me.Not much else. Have a couple of leads on a new Bob Cratchit, so we'll see. Hope to get back to this in less than a couple of weeks.

Double Feature

2006-03-26T01:28:00.000-08:00

Feels like ages since I've posted anything -- because it has been.

Had a momentous day today. Went to two different movies at two different theatres for (I think) the first time in my life. I may have done it in L.A., though I can't remember. Regardless, it's the first time in decades.

Pidge had mentioned how much she really wanted to see "Thank You for Smoking." I was lukewarm, but agreed, since she was right that she usually sucks it up when it's something I want to see, and it was my turn to do the same for her.

We drove down to Palo Alto (the CineArts, where it was playing on both screens, which struck me as odd) and ot there pretty much just in time. Big crowd (again, surprisingly), so we didn't have a great choice of seats. What we got were pretty good, although they leaned back so far I was a little uncomfortable, and the head of the woman in front of me occupied a tiny portion of the screen. (That said, it was good to see a movie on an honest-to-god big screen.)

(Odd coincidence. The ticket takers at both theatres were in wheelchairs. I've never seen that at all before, and to see it twice in one day was off. NTTAWWI.)

Anyway, we saw a number of trailers, most of which actually looked good -- I guess that's the benefit of going to an art house -- even one owned by Century. The feature finally started, and I instantly knew I was in good hands with a brilliant credits sequence. I miss credits sequences. They can do so much work for the filmmakers in setting a mood or a time or place. I was watching "Murder By Death" and "The Cheap Detective" last night (the latter of which I hadn't seen since it opened, and boy, does it hold up; much better than MBD, in fact) and both (each?) had credits by Wayne Fitzgerald, who was a god at such things, and a good set of credits is worth its weight in gold.

To continue. "Thank You . . ." is laugh-out-loud funny (a rarity, I find), and the thing that impressed me the most about it (and there's a lot to be impressed about) is that it has a conservative political bent and is still funny. I've often complained that, even as liberal as I am, I'd like to see some kind of conservative political statement in the theatre or movies. TYFS has the usual Hollywood cliches upended, with the corporate shills being the good guys and the do-gooder groups being the, well, not the bad guys, but putzes. It was a refreshing change of pace. I'm not saying I want to see every film be like this, but it was nice to see for once. Nicely written, well-directed (and good continuity!), with fine performances by Aaron Eckhart, J.K. Simmons (who is thisclose to reaching "Money in the Bank" status), Robert Duvall, and Bill Macy.

That said, Katie Holmes has reached the point in her career where she has no credibility on screen. Between her not-overwhelming acting ability, whatever the fuck is going on with Tom Cruise, and her youthful appearance, she has a -lot- to overcome -- and doesn't do it here. The second she appeared on screen, I cringed mentally. She suffers here from the same thing she suffered from in "Batman Begins." She's supposed to be a tough and accomplished professional, and looks 12 and has all the gravitas of Macaulay Culkin. She needs to get off the screen -- now. Oh, and if you're going to have significant amounts of dialogue about a character's awesome "tits," you have to do one of two things. Either cast an actress with awesome tits and have her show them, or cut the lines referring to them. Director Reitman did neither. The only time we come close to seeing Ms. Holmes's mammae is in one long shot where she's standing in an office in a very modest blouse showing nothing out of the ordinary. Contrast this with the attention paid to the ta-tas of Ms. Renee Graham as Tiffany, the corporate jet flight attendant, and the whole thing becomes a "wha--?" moment.

The film ended and it was back in the car to drive to Mountain View to see the film I wanted to, "Inside Man." I'd read a lot about it in the past couple of days, and wanted to see it early, before any potential spoilers reached me. We got to the theatre early and it was a much different experience. Huge lobby, 16 screens, a completely different demographic. (For example: One of the trailers at the CineArts was for "A Scanner Darkly," which is Richard Linklater's newest piece of vomit, using that computer rotoscoping technique that I find so annoyingly pretentious. I turned to Pidge and asked who the hell could watch this for more than five minutes. Well, I found out. The Century 16 has trailers playing on monitors throughout the lobby [seems too cavernous to call it that, but what else is there?], so the patrons can't go more than about 1o seconds without having their senses assaulted. They played the "Scanner Darkly" trailer, and the girls in front of us were -riveted-. When it finished, they both agreed that they -had- to see the picture. Different strokes, I guess . . . )

After about ten minutes in line, they let us into the theatre, which had a suspiciously large number of people in it already. We managed to get decent seats, though (even if both of us complained that they were extremely uncomfortable), and passed the time until the trailers started; this time, showing the usual selection of things I wouldn't see on a bet. Is it me or is it Hollywood? Anyway . . .

We both enjoyed the picture, even if I felt it was a little long. I also expected more twists and turns (from the reviews), but still found it satisdfying, even if there were the usual selection of plot holes. Like how does Clive Owen's character know what he knows? And when he is where he is, how does no one suspect it? Really well-directed, with a real sense of New York and location in general, and just a slew of good performances from Washington, Owen, Dafoe (good to see him not play a heavy), Plummer (who I can't believe I like now), and even Jodie Foster, whom I usually loathe, but is quite good - but then I'm supposed to loathe her character in this one, so it works.

Regardless, it was a fine afternoon of filmgoing, and I look forward to a couple more in the near future. Still have to see "Find Me Guilty" and "V for Vendetta."

Coming up? I'm doing a reading of a new play Monday at the Lorraine Hansberry Theatre in the city. I play a crotchety college professor who's locked into the traditional way of doing things. Sort of a continuation from "Oleanna." Darold (from "Miss Daisy") called and asked me if I'd be interested in acting in it, and I said sure; especially since there's a little dough involved, and I'll be working with Lorrie Holt, among others. And it may give me a line into finding a black actress for "Mrs. Bob Cratchit."

Tomorrow, it's dinner with the Rustans at a mystery restaurant that's the last gasp of my 50th birthday. Don't expect anything momentous to come of it, but it'll be the first time we see them without Schlomo since, hell, since Leisa got pregnant.

Maude Maggart

2006-03-09T00:35:00.000-08:00

Got back a little while ago from seeing Maude Maggart at the Plush Room. What a singer! I admit it took me about five or ten minutes to warm up to her (I have an inate dislike for cabaret singers), but once I got her, I really got her. She's got an amazing ability to really inhabit a song and phrase it and communicate it. (The one flaw in her delivery [for me] is that she doesn't quite have all the chops yet to do with a song what she wants to do with it. According to her biography on her website, though (http://www.maudemaggart.com), she's only been singing professionally since 2001. Once she really gets her talent melded with her intelligence, there'll be no stopping her. Just an amazing singer. She's not Jessica Molaskey, but she's in that league. She's Fiona Apple's sister and Brandon Maggart's daughter.

I'm a big fan of Brandon Maggart, whom I know best as having played Buddy on the early episodes of Sesame Street. He was teamed with an actor named James Catusi as "Buddy and Jim," two guys who made Laurel and Hardy look like brain surgeons. They were hilarious to my 13-year-old eyes. I only found out about her father after I got home, and I wish I'd known. I bought three of her CDs after the show and got to talk to her as I was getting them autographed. I would have mentioned her father if I'd only known. I'm slightly tempted to go back later this week (I won't, but I'm tempted), and would definitely mention him if I did.

When I started this thing, I expected I would be reviewing and critiquing movies and TV and comics and pop culture and politics, but there's been unsurprisingly little of that. Suffice it to say that I rented Sin City (meh; very comic-booky and true to the material, but too long and I'm not Miller's biggest fan) and Layer Cake (nice complicated caper-type picture, but it failed for me in the climax when one of the pivotal characters didn't pass the "who the hell is that?" test; I still don't quite know who it was). I've been reading comics, and am running hot and cold on Infinite Crisis. I admired the ideas behind it -- at least based on what they were saying at WonderCon -- but am none too pleased with the treatment of Kal-L, the original Superman (this is hopelessly geeky, I know, but I just don't give a rat's ass). I'm enjoying The Amazing Race and am looking forward to the return of The Sopranos this weekend. What else am I watching? The 24, the Apprentice, the Veronica Mars, still watching the ER (god knows why), Deal or No Deal, Justice League, and not much else (Dave, of course). I'm sure there are other shows, but I'm punchy right now, and can't imagine why I'm not in bed (it's 12:20 am). I did watch the premiere of The Unit last night, and in spite of my liking of Mamet, found it vile. If it was serious, it was replusive in its politics and if there was a tongue-in-cheek element, it went whooshing over my head.

Just saw my nemesis Scarlett Johannson in a makeup commercial, exhibiting more range than in any movie I've seen her in to date. She had a horrible lipstick on (and with her mouth, it probably took two tubes), but maybe there's hope for her otherwise.

This has been one of those long-ass weeks for me. Seems like Monday was about two weeks ago. I can't wait to work at home Friday. There's a couple of meetings at work tomorrow; one is the monthly department meeting, which can range from actually interesting to chew-my-arm-off bad. The other is the semi-regular meeting with Stephanie (my boss) and the rest of the team. I don't expect any bombshells, but you never know.

We had an Answers meeting today, and it began with my admitting I didn't know how to set up a Twiki page, which everyone looked askance at. I did my best "Dammit, I'm old!" impression by saying, "Hey, I'm 50!" Not quite (10 more days), but close enough. Then on top of that, it suddenly occurred to us that all the other surfers on the product are "new," meaning hired within the last year. If that didn't make me feel old (and it did), nothing would. These damn kids with their rock and roll . . .

Still waiting to hear about DaveCon 2005. Hope we hear soon; I'd like to make my travel plans.

Came up with a plan for Pidge's 40th birthday in 2007 tonight. I don't know if I can pull it off, but if I can, it should be memorable -- and better than that surprise party they pulled on my 40th. I've been promised there'll be no surprise party for my 50th, so I'm hopeful, but who knows.

I'm Just Tired

2006-03-04T01:12:00.000-08:00

Hasn't been a long week, but a jam-packed one. Pidge leaves for her mother's tomorrow morning, so I'll be a bachelor all week, but if that means anything anymore, it means, well, nothing. I'll read the paper, watch TV, be online and fall asleep on the couch downstairs. All in all, no change. I might take in a couple of movies, but don't expect to do much other than (hopefully) get some sleep.

We escaped the rain (more or less) today, but it's supposed to shower all weekend, which will further restrict me. Not that I had big plans, but still . . .

I do have work stuff this weekend, but other than that, JLU, and the Oscars, I got nothin'.

Laptops and "Cowboys"

2006-02-23T23:48:00.000-08:00

Well, I picked up the new laptop today, and while it wasn't as screwy as I'd feared, it still took me about three or four hours to get everything back up to where I could work with things. The new proportions of the windows and software are annoying -- windows too big, text too small. Of course, if one tries to increase the size of the text, then it's too big. (There's just no pleasing some people.) On the other hand, one of the pieces of software we use in Surfing is FUBAR, and I'm hoping I can go in Monday and check the program settings from my desktop and make it work. It's software I've had this same trouble with before, and it eventually worked, but it just bugs the hell out of me.

Oh, on the way home tonight, I had just gotten off the freeway when the guy two cars in front of me decided he needed to make a u-turn right then, so he slammed on his brakes and the car in back of him (and in front of me) almost rear-ended him. What the first guy didn't realize was how narrow the road is there, and he had to back up (almost into me) to make the turn, which of course almost caused a collision with the guy heading in our direction. I assume the jagoff was on the phone; they always are . . .

Pidge and I had a surprisingly heated discussion tonight on whether Brokeback Mountain is a western. (It was prompted by an email exchange on the same subject at work today.) I said yes because if you asked the man on the street what it was about, he'd say "Gay cowboys," and cowboys=westerns. I'm not saying it's only a western, but it's that among other things. Pidge got huffy because I was acting snotty and superior, and used the old "you haven't even seen it, how can you classify it?" argument. (Which is, of course, an argument that falls apart as soon as movies starring, say, Adam Sandler or Will Ferrell are concerned; their presence assures crapitude, even without being seen.) I think we ultimately agreed to disagree.

Watching the Olympics tonight (sidenote: Something I noticed from talking to Pidge's father was that people who have participated in the Olympics almost invariably refer to them as "the Olympic Games"), I heard the phrase "Olympic fortnight" at least twice. Is NBC trying to class up the joint by going all Britspeak on us?

Realized last night that I almost have Mrs. Bob Cratchit fully cast, seven months before rehearsals start. Have only three roles to cast (well, five; but I have two offers out). Never had that happen before. Also realized the set won't be too horribly difficult, so I probably won't need major design help. (This doesn't apply to the lights, of course.) Speaking of my directing career, I dropped by Hillbarn yesterday (we'd borrowed a telephone from them for Miss Daisy), and was honestly impressed by how they're improving the joint. Hope I get to work there next season. Have to send another email.

While it's been a wee bit of a relief to not have anything hanging over my head now that Daisy and Don Juan are closed, it'll be odd tomorrow to have nothing hanfin over my head. Looking forward to it -- and I'm almost guaranteed to have as many people here in the living room tomorrow as there were seeing Don Juan.

And on that note, I'm outta here!

Just Pathetic

2006-02-21T23:02:00.000-08:00

The way I've gotten hooked on the "Project Runway." Obviously, I'm not a fashion maven, but it's always fascinating watching these people try to backstab each other and outmaneuver each other. That why I love "The Apprentice" and "The Amazing Race" so much.

Had an interesting experience tonight. I was coming home from the PSP directors' meeting (and guess what?! I have to dig up my own designers again!) and saw a cop in back of me. Being no fool (at least in this regard), I watched my speed and drove carefully -- maybe too carefully, as I soon saw the red and blue lights and pulled over. I turned off the engine, pulled my license out of my wallet, and waited. Sure enough, here comes the cop, shining the flashlight in my face, asks me for my registration and insurance. He looks them over, and asks if I know why he pulled me over. I say, with all honesty, "no." And he asks if I'd been smoking a cigarette and tossed it out of the window so that it hit his car. I replied, with even more honesty, "No; I don't smoke." He took a beat, said that he didn't smell anything and that it must have been the car in front of me (which I didn't recall seeing, but what the hey . . .). He let me go and wished me a good evening. After I started up the car again, it dawned on me that the cigarette butt thing had probably happened, and he probably thought it was a joint (which would be a logical assumption: "Oh shit, a cop; dump the dope"). Regardless, it was odd.

Getting a laptop at work tomorrow -- after only seven years. I'm very apprehensive about it; I've gotten so used to using my desktop tower as a footrest, I'm going to have to find a substitute; that and the whole VPN thing. I just -know- I'm going to have a lot of trouble logging in. On the bright side, I get to take off early since it'll take four hours for them to transfer all my data and I can't be on the network during that time.

I have to look over my plays and see if there's anything downstairs I can pitch to Pacifica. I'm tempted to pitch "Mrs. California" there, too, but I don't know if CCT is interested and if they take me and it, I'd end up directing it twice or have to pull another script out of my ass. Regardless, I'll pitch "She Loves Me" and I'm sure I'll be able to find something else. Though with PSP's audience ("Baby" and "Don Juan" don't draw flies, but "I Remember Mama" and "Heckle and Jeckle" make a ton of money? Bah.), who knows what's either viable or doable with their limited technical resources.

On a brighter note, I saw a 33-pound Chinese cat on Keith Olbermann's show tonight. He looked like a Volkswagen.

Damn!

2006-02-21T23:01:00.000-08:00

If I'd've known people were actually going to be reading this, I'd've tried to make it interesting.

Hey, how about that Bush Administration, huh?

And those Olympics?

Wild, huh?