Monthly Archives: September 2013

How much water a day should we be drinking? Medical science isn't sure.

Matt Goulding sings the praises of airline food. I guess I wasn't aware there still was airline food…but of course, since there are 22-hour flights to foreign places, there must be. I never fly that far and I'm often on Southwest where "airline food" is a choice of peanuts or pretzels.

When there was airline food on coast-to-coast flights, I was rarely served anything edible. Between my food allergies and my dislike of about two-thirds of the foods I can eat, I usually wound up munching on the dinner roll and maybe the dessert. One time, I was on a flight — I think it was TWA the time they sent me to New York and my luggage to London — where the entrees never made it on board. There was some sort of delay in the hot lunches arriving and the decision was made to leave without them. The crew made apologies but all they had for us to eat on the flight were the frozen Snickers bars that were served as dessert along with the meals. It was fine dining as far as I was concerned.

The first time I ever flew First Class — which of course meant I was not paying — they served a dinner that was allegedly prepared by some four-star, award-winning chef especially for American Airlines. We got a menu first telling us what we'd be eating and I could see there was not one thing on the plate that my stomach would accept.

The menu also listed the cuisine being served in Coach. I think they did this so they could pass the same menu out in both cabins and make the Coach people think, "Gee, I should have spent the $700 more to get a better supper." Anyway, Coach was getting Penne Marinara, which sounded a lot more like Mark Food to me. I called a First Class Flight Attendant over and asked if I could have that instead. She acted like I was asking if I could get out at 30,000 feet and walk the rest of the way. No one, at least on her flights, had ever asked such a thing before.

There were sudden huddled conversations by the Flight Crew and they may have radioed to ask someone on the ground if it was permitted or if there was some F.A.A. regulation that said I had to eat the Red Mullet Almondine with hollandaise. She finally reported back that they had only enough servings of Penne Marinara aboard to feed those in the cheaper seats. I asked if anyone back there would like to swap with me and, again, I created a mid-air crisis and much discussion. I can be so much trouble at times asking what to me are simple, obvious questions.

The verdict? American Airlines didn't want me swapping meals with someone in Coach because then someone else in Coach would be angry that they didn't get what the person across the aisle got. The solution? The crew on the flight, including the pilots, got the Coach meal to eat. She offered to swap with me. I said fine, done, easy answer.

But then it got more complicated. The senior flight attendant (who outranked her) came over and wondered if protocol demanded that the trade be offered instead to the pilot. But then how would the co-pilot feel if he had to eat pasta while the other guy in the cabin got Red Mullet? And what about the navigator? I had the whole cabin crew debating this in the aisle next to me and I'd occasionally poke my head into the discussion to say, "You know, it might be simpler for everyone if I just didn't eat." By then though, no one was listening to me. So finally it was decided that the Flight Attendant I'd first asked about this could have my Red Mullet and I could have her Penne Marinara, which I ate and which was okay. At least, it was okay for airline food.

After we'd landed and were filing off the plane, I thanked the Flight Attendant and apologized for causing so much trouble. She said that was all right. I asked her how my dinner was. She said, "Not good. I'd rather have had the Penne." I kinda figured that would be the punch line and was somehow comforted when it really was.

The Huffington Post has its own web-only talk show. Here's Dick Cavett interviewed by a gentleman who talks a little too much…

Sylvester Stallone is appearing at the New York Comic Con next month. You can get his autograph. You can get a photo with him. But neither is free.

How much will they run you? Well, a ticket for an autograph is $395.00. The photo will run you $445.00. That's for a professionally-taken 8-by-10 picture. He'll be there on Sunday at a time to be announced and if you want to redeem your ticket, you'll need to be there when he's there. I have a feeling it won't be all day.

I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this and first off, I think it's a bad career move for the guy. I dunno what his cut is — the agency that arranged this is obviously in for a hefty share — but suppose you multiply any reasonable estimate times the number they're likely to sell. If you're a big star, I can't see it yielding an amount that's worth convincing a lot of people that you don't care about your fans except as a source of money you don't need. The star of Rocky and Rambo now earns a reported $15 million to $20 million a movie.

Then again, he's got as much right to charge megabucks for his signature as anyone has to say, "Are you outta your friggin' mind?"

A rather big star — as big as Stallone, maybe bigger — once told me he felt uncomfortable charging for his autograph. He'd agreed to such arrangements a few times, back when he still vividly recalled being broke and still had a hard time turning down cash for just writing his name. In fact, a couple things made him uncomfy, one being that a lot of the ones he signed were for dealers who viewed it as an investment. He was not signing for someone who loved his work and craved tangible proof of having met him. He was signing for someone who was going to charge even more money to the person who loved his work…and who would not get to meet him. It started feeling too exploitive to him.

Here was the big problem, though: He was getting, I think, $75 to sign things. Having accepted that, he began to have to think too much about signing his name for nothing or even for less. On his way out of one signing, he was approached in the parking lot by a little 10-year-old girl with an autograph book. He wasn't going to say to her, "Sorry, young lady. You have to give me $75." But if he signed for nothing, he was making fools out of all the fans of his who'd just paid three-quarters of a Benjamin.

He also had an offer from a major publisher to issue his autobiography, which was something he really wanted to have happen. The contract called for him to make a half-dozen appearances in bookstores to sign copies…and since all those recipients would pay was the cost of the book, he'd be in effect signing for free in some big, well-publicized appearances. Said he, "How is the guy who just paid $75 going to feel? He's going to feel I swindled him. It's just complicating something that wouldn't be complicated if we didn't drag that kind of money into it."

Then again, when you sign for free or for cheap money, a lot of those autographs wind up on eBay or being sold by dealers for a lot of loot. Why shouldn't that loot go to you? Or at least to your favorite charity?

I don't have an answer to any of this and since it's not a problem I'm likely to have, I don't have to come up with one. I just think it's kinda interesting.

In case you're a huge Sly Stallone fan, here's where you can get your autograph and photo op tickets. Let me know if there's anyone else in line with you. (Thanks to Gary Dunaier for telling me about this. He's not buying a signature either.)

I think I'm going to sever ties with…well, I'm not sure this person was ever a friend since among other factors, I never met him in person. I guess "E-Mail Acquaintance" is a more accurate term. I've lately been trying to ignore folks who send me endless cut-and-paste screeds about how Obama was born in Kenya, Obama is a secret Muslim, Obama is gay, Obama is plotting with the Kremlin to destroy America, etc. I especially love the ones about how Obama has a secret plan to declare Martial Law, suspend the 2016 presidential elections and stay in the Oval Office for a third term, a fourth term, etc. I guess this idea was stolen from the secret plan Bill Clinton had to stay in office forever and the secret plan George W. Bush had to stay in office forever. Those who hate whoever follows Obama (and yes, Mike, someone will…and in 2017) will start telling you shortly after Inauguration Day of his or her secret plan to start a war, declare Martial Law, and never leave the presidency.

In fact, I think I need to sever more ties with people like that. Unfortunately, there are a lot more people like that.

Okay, here's the premise: Let's take Monty Python and the Holy Grail and edit a trailer for it that makes it look like a very different movie…

Fred Kaplan on Obama's speech last night. Like I said, I have nothing to say.

I have nothing to say about the latest developments in the possible bombing of Syria. I see a lot of people scurrying to position themselves for political advantage in this country. I have no idea if things in Syria can resolve themselves without bombing.

I have nothing to say about another anniversary of 9/11. Aren't we all in agreement about how horrible that day was? Aren't we all amazed how much this country has recovered from a time when it didn't seem like it would ever recover?

I have nothing to say about the new iPhone except that I'll probably get one as soon as it's possible to get a new one, which might take a while.

I have nothing to say about Eliot Spitzer and Anthony Weiner losing their respective elections in New York except that, you know, neither one was much of a surprise.

I have nothing to say about having nothing to say except that more of us should say nothing when we have nothing to say…and I probably shouldn't even have said that because, after all, I have nothing to say.

Here's something I get asked about a lot. It's not that interesting a story but when you've been blogging as long as I have, you eventually get down to telling people what you had for lunch last Tuesday and how you once cut your toenails too short.

Once upon a time way back in the era of the Vikings, we used to buy our comic books at newsstands or at racks in mini-markets or drugstores. They came out Tuesday and Thursday in most areas and if you were a devout fan (as was I), you hurried to the vendor each of those days to grab up the new releases. One day in December of 1969, I did just that and among my purchases of that day was the new issue of The Flash, #195.

I was at the time working on the fringes of the comic book business. I was making my main income writing articles for local magazines but also laboring part-time for a Los Angeles-based firm that was doing mail order merchandising of the Marvel characters. Three months later, I'd be hired by the great Jack Kirby as an assistant for some new comics he'd be editing for DC but on this day, I was just kinda/sorta getting into the comic book field.

Then I opened that issue of The Flash and discovered I was a character in it.

There was a scene of The Flash doing a whirlwind autograph signing at the Muscular Dystrophy Telethon and he was calling out the names of the folks who were receiving these autographs. The comic's editor, Julius Schwartz, had inserted the names of three folks who were frequent contributors to his letter columns: Me, Irene Vartanoff and Peter Sanderson. (All three of us, by the way, wound up working in comics.)

I get asked how I felt when I saw my name in a comic book story. I think "weird" would describe it. I was walking down Pico Boulevard, about a half-block from the Pico-Robertson newsstand — which amazingly is still there, though it's moved a hundred yards and no longer sells comic books. I just stopped and stared at it and told myself I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. And I remember looking around at the people passing me and realizing how little this would matter to any of them. But it meant a lot to me.

It was very much like the sensation I'd had a few years earlier when I bought a copy of Aquaman #28 and while standing in line, waiting to pay for it and other comics I was buying that day, flipped through the issue and found they'd published a letter I'd sent in. I loved comic books and to see my name in one was an odd, appropriate moment of bonding with them. In an odd way, those two moments — having my name in a letters page and having it in a story — were more exciting than a year or two later when I actually started writing comics professionally.

And by the way: The letter column in Aquaman #28 also contained a letter from Irene Vartanoff. Hi, Irene! And hi, Peter Sanderson! Do you both still have your autographs from The Flash? I have mine and I treasure it even though he spelled my name wrong. I guess that's what happens when you do everything in a hurry.

From this blog on August 1, 2013…

Why do I have the premonition that before long, we're going to read another news story about George Zimmerman firing his gun at someone?

From today's news…

(CBS) – George Zimmerman has been taken into custody following an incident involving a gun, CBS News has confirmed. In a telephone interview the Lake Mary, Florida police chief said George Zimmerman is in "investigative detention" after his estranged wife, Shellie, called authorities to say he was threatening her and her parents with a gun.

It's only a matter of time.

I never bought a car from Cal Worthington, the flashy automotive dealer who for years was on Los Angeles TV more often than reports of gridlocked traffic. In fact, an awful lot of that gridlocked traffic was because of all the people who did buy cars from Cal.

Since he never sold me a clunker, my thoughts of him are all positive. He was a showman who did entertaining commercials for his various dealerships. He'd always refer to "My dog, Spot" even though "Spot" might be an elephant or a skunk or a parrot. He even had a catchy theme song. Here's a video that features the long version of that tune, illustrated by clips from his commercials. As you'll see, the guy knew how to get attention. In his line of work, that may be more important than offering good merchandise at a fair price…

Actually, we have two. Andrew Winter and another reader of this site named Clark almost simultaneously wrote to say that the serial I was remembering was The Lost Planet and I was recalling Chapter Seven. In an upcoming Childhood Memory here, I'll tell you why I asked about this.

The Lost Planet, I'm told by Wikipedia, was a 1953 serial produced by Columbia Pictures. Don't bother seeking it out. It was pretty bad when I saw Chapter Seven in 1960 as the warm-up to the Jerry Lewis film, Cinderfella, and it hasn't apparently improved with age. I'll get to the story of that afternoon at the movies in a week or two here. Thanks, Andrew and Clark.

• Know who I feel sorry for? The 3 guys running BEHIND Anthony Weiner in the N.Y. mayor's race. How embarrassing is that?

Someone will know the answer to this. There was a movie serial made in the forties or fifties. One chapter ended with the hero — a human being, not a super-hero — being catapulted into the sky and (seemingly) certain death. For this shot, the serial switched from live-action to rather obvious animation that the producers thought we would think was live-action. Can anyone reading this identify the serial and, if possible, the chapter? If you can, drop me a note. Thanks.

And what we have here is a 14-minute documentary made for schools (I suppose) telling how TV shows were produced at the time, which was the early sixties. The process is, of course, simplified down to the bare bones.

It was shot at KTLA, a local station in Los Angeles, and it covers the production of three programs — a musical show, a news round-up and the coverage of a live parade. The musical show is Dick Sinclair's Polka Parade, which we wrote about here. Mr. Sinclair is the host and the fellow you'll see doing the ham commercial is Tom Kennedy, who would soon become a top game show host. The newsman you'll see hosting the news show is Clete Roberts, who was a fixture of L.A. TV for decades, but may be best remembered for a classic episode of the TV show M*A*S*H called "The Interview" in which he played a newsman interviewing the cast members in character. Thanks to Scott Marinoff for telling me about this…