Monthly Archives: May 2014

Two great guests visit Stu's Show today.  Darrell Van Citters is a well-respected director of animation and also a fine historian of animation by others.  He did that great book on the making of Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol and he has a new book out called The Art of Jay Ward Productions which features…well, it probably features the art of Jay Ward Productions.  The other guest is Greg Ehrbar, an expert of many things but especially records for kids and All Things Disney.  Greg co-authored Mouse Tracks, an all-encompassing book on the history of Walt Disney's own record label.  He will talk about that and also Inside the Whimsy Works, the autobiography (though Greg had a hand in it) of Jimmy Johnson, who ran that amazing record label and worked with Roy Disney.  Stu could fill the time with either gent so it oughta be jam-packed with interesting conversation.

Stu's Show can be heard live (almost) every Wednesday at the Stu's Show website and you can listen for free there. Webcasts start at 4 PM Pacific Time, 7 PM Eastern and other times in other climes. They run a minimum of two hours and sometimes go to three or beyond.  Shortly after a show ends, it's available for downloading from the Archives on that site. Downloads are a paltry 99 cents each and you can get four for the price of three.  The ones where I guest should be cheaper but they aren't.

This is another one of "those" postings…

I've been having trouble with my e-mail which comes to me via Time-Warner Cable. Foolishly, I decided to call up and see if their Tech Support folks could help.

I called up and waited through all the silly announcements for sports TV packages and such. I got someone on the line relatively quickly (2 minutes) and explained the problem to her. She put me through to someone in Tier 2 Support. I explained the problem to a lady in Tier 2 Support and then the phone went dead on me. Disconnected.

I waited a minute or so to see if she'd call me back. After all, she had my phone number. Since she didn't, I called back and again waited through all the announcements, then got someone and explained what happened. The person apologized profusely, then put me through again to Tier 2 Support. This time I got a guy whose response to everything I told him was to say, "Let me put you on hold for a moment" and then he'd leave me there listening to the bad hold music for 5-10 minutes, then come back and give me an answer that made no sense.

I was on this call for one hour and 15 minutes, most of it spent on hold, and I was no closer to a solution to my problem than when I started. I asked the gent to kick my call up to Tier 3 or a supervisor or someone smarter…anyone. He said he would and then the line went dead. Disconnected.

I again waited to see if he'd call back. He didn't. I called again and listened to the announcements and finally got a human being. I explained the story thus far, they apologized a lot and put me through to Tier 3.

I waited on hold for Tier 3 for 25 minutes. A gentleman finally came on line and asked, "How may I help you?" I said, "Well, first of all, I was just on hold for 25 minutes and —"

And that's far as I got with that call. I suddenly heard silence from his end and when I said, "Hello, are you there?" I got nothing. But I didn't hear that rapid beeping I heard before when I was disconnected and I heard room noise on his end. So I just waited and waited, speaking every so often to see if he'd respond and he didn't. Finally, I heard him say, "Sir, I can't keep holding this line open. Call back if you want help" and I was, again, disconnected.

By the way: I have Time-Warner digital phone service.

I called up again. I'm a sucker for punishment. I got a recorded announcement that told me all lines were busy and that if I wanted, I could leave a callback number and they'd call me when they had a human being to talk to me. Estimated time: 4-6 minutes. I arranged for this.

Five minutes later, a person called me. I explained what was going on and said I wanted to talk to a supervisor to complain. The person said, "Certainly, I'll connect you" and put me on hold, whereupon I began writing this message. It's now twelve minutes that I have been waiting on hold to complain about waiting on hold and the hold music has stopped and I am hearing dead air which means, I think, I've been disconnected.

Yeah, I've been disconnected. Let's see what happens when I call back and —

No, I'm not disconnected. It just sounded that way for three minutes. Then a Supervisor (that's what he says he is) came on the line and I read him everything before this paragraph. He has put me on hold but before he did, he took my phone number and promised to make sure that if I got disconnected again, he would call me back and I wouldn't have to restart the process.

Well, what shall I write about there while I'm waiting? I may have enough time to retype Ulysses. How about if we discuss Benghazi? I figure the new outcry about this is the Republicans' way of admitting that Obamacare is working well enough to be of no use to them as a campaign issue so they need something else. I agree with those who say there was no mistake or wrongdoing with Benghazi that's even been alleged that wasn't clearly made a thousand times over with regard to the Iraq War without this kind of outrage.

And I've now been on this latest call — the one complaining about being on hold forever — for thirty minutes.

Hey, let's watch a video. This is a cute little bit of animation set to one of Allan Sherman's songs. For those who are too young, the weird words in the tune are mostly brand names and advertised secret ingredients — like Platformate, a well-promoted additive in Shell gasoline, once upon a time — from when the song was recorded in 1965. (Hey, remember when oil companies used to advertise and try to sell us on the idea that their gas was better for our cars than someone else's gas?)

I think a few of the brand names are spelled incorrectly but why quibble? It's a nice bit of computer magic and the animator, Freek "Frzi" Zijlmans, even credited the fonts at the end. I'll watch it along with you and let's see if I'm still on hold by the time we get to the end of it…

Okay, a nice gent at Time-Warner Tech Support in Colorado (!) came on the line just before Mr. Sherman finished his song. I explained to him that I've been on hold long enough to have AT&T Universe installed in my home and he's efficiently looking into my problem which I don't think is going to be solved tonight. But I have reached someone who seems competent and determined to help so there's a moral victory right there. I'm going to post this and I'll update later, if and when anything happens.

• I could work in Time-Warner Cable Tech Support. I can put callers on hold for long periods while I ask someone else what to tell them.

I get from one to five calls a day from folks who claim to be contractors. Some of them probably are. Some of them are probably outta-work folks who answered an ad somewhere that they could make Big Bucks from their home phone. They were sent a script and a list of numbers to call…and if calling and reading me that script results in me hiring their construction firm to construct, they will get a commission.

As I've written here before, a lot of those scripts commence with outright lying…

Hello, Mr. Evanier! My name is Sam Footface with Fazzblatt Construction. We spoke last August and you were so nice to me but you said you weren't quite ready to do that construction work you had planned on your home and you said to call back in May. If you're ready now, I would like to send one of our crew members over to give you that free estimate we discussed…"

I stop them after the part about how we spoke last August and I say, "No, we didn't. You're lying." At that point, they either hang up or they argue for about twenty seconds and hang up…and I don't blame them. They're obviously not going to sell me and they have other names on their lists. I wonder what the batting average is on a job like that. One nibble out of a hundred? One out of five hundred?

I wonder how those people feel about getting the figurative door slammed in their faces every minute or so, hour after hour. They also have to depend on their employer giving them an honest reporting of what kind of business resulted from their calling and giving them an accurate accounting of the sales on which their commissions will be based. How far can you trust an employer that hired you to lie to people?

Of all the zillion and one calls I've received, my favorite well may be one that came in last week. I suspect the caller in this case actually was a contractor and not a very successful one. The guy sounded weary and fed up…kind of like Don Imus without the cheery twinkle in his voice. Here with fictitious names inserted is how that call went…

HIM: Mr. Evanier, this is Harvey Sneezeguard with Sneezeguard Construction. I'm wondering if you need any work done on your home…

ME: You're about the eighth contractor to call me this week and it's only Tuesday so —

HIM: Hey, listen, I don't need you to act like I'm wasting your time. I'm just trying to earn a living like a good American and I don't need you pissing on a hard-working family man trying to feed his family. And don't you lecture me either about how you're on the "No Call List." It doesn't apply to individual businesses like mine and I can call you and do whatever I have to do grow my business and keep the doors open. If you don't need any contracting at the moment, fine. But don't tell me I'm wasting your time because you don't know me and you have no right to say that!

ME: How soon can you be here to start building an add-on to my home?

No, I didn't speak that last line and it wouldn't have mattered if I had because he slammed down the phone after he said what he said. This is not the first call like this I've received with a lot of hostility involved but it was the most amazing. Anyone wondering why this guy is in such need of customers?

Dick Ayers, one of the last of the major artists of the early "Marvel Age of Comics," has died. It happened yesterday, only days following his 90th birthday. The cause is being reported as complications from Parkinson's Disease, a condition he had battled for some time.

Ayers was born April 28, 1924 in Ossining, New York. He did his first comic art while in the Army Air Corps during World War II. After his discharge, he sought work from comic book publishers but was told his work wasn't quite good enough. He studied with Burne Hogarth at the Cartoonists and Illustrators School in New York, later known as the School of Visual Arts. The co-creator of Superman, Joe Shuster, visited the class and this led to Ayers assisting Shuster, who by then needed a lot of help due to failing eyesight. Ayers then worked for any number of publishers throughout the fifties but he was best known for a western hero he designed named The Ghost Rider.

Eventually, he did most of this work for Stan Lee at the company now known as Marvel. When the company had to downsize, Ayers found himself out of work and wound up getting a job, which he hated, at the post office. He continuously pestered Stan Lee to help him out of that situation and eventually, Stan brought him back to ink much of what Jack Kirby was doing for the firm and also to pencil some comics.

He was pretty good at inking Kirby's work and not bad at taking over the penciling of a strip that Kirby had launched. He drew Giant-Man, The Human Torch and others but super-heroes were not his strength. He did better at westerns and war books including a long run on Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos. At one point, Marvel even decided to revive The Ghost Rider, reportedly without permission, and Ayers wound up drawing a new version of that old character.

In the seventies, Dick had some trouble giving editors at Marvel what they wanted and he eventually found himself without sufficient work. Neal Adams intervened at DC to get them to take him on and for years, Dick worked mainly as a layout artist for them. He did many issues of Kamandi, The Unknown Soldier, Jonah Hex and other DC titles. Fans began to approach him about doing re-creations of his past work, particularly covers he'd done with Kirby, and he did a lot of that. That put him on the convention circuit where I got to spend a lot of time interviewing him on panels and talking with him when we weren't on stage. He was a charming gent with an amazing lifetime output of popular comics. They don't make 'em like that anymore.

This is the story of how my mother died. The ending is not as sad as you might expect. The parts before it are but not the ending.

As I've written here before, her health was pretty bad the last few years of her life. She could barely see, she could barely walk and she kept having episodes of Congestive Heart Failure. There were other problems as well but those were the three biggies.

(I was in a restaurant one day during all this and I said to the person I was with, "They're just awful, these episodes of Congestive Heart Failure." A man was just leaving the next booth and he stopped at my table and said, "I didn't hear what show you were talking about but nothing could be worse than episodes of William Shatner's new series." I'm not sure which William Shatner series he was talking about but I have a feeling it was at least a little more enjoyable than Congestive Heart Failure.)

Her three main problems kept her from doing almost every one of the things she loved to do. The bad eyes prevented her from reading or fully enjoying television. Her bad legs kept her from travelling. The Congestive Heart Failure kept her from eating any of the things she loved. I would guardedly and occasionally bring her foods she probably should have avoided or take her to restaurants for them. My reasoning — and her doctor agreed — was that one such meal every now and then wouldn't hurt and she needed something like that to lift her at least partway out of her many depressions.

Eventually though, the depressions got so bad that even fried clams couldn't make them go away…and if you knew how much my mother loved fried clams, you'd realize how deep those depressions were. She spoke increasingly of wishing it would all be over, especially before she went totally blind. She was legally blind. She just wasn't totally blind…yet.

She loved her independence. She loved living alone in a house she'd lived in for close to sixty years and she was able to live there and by herself as long as she had a tiny bit of sight. We talked it through again and again and she didn't like any of the options she'd have once her "good eye" (which wasn't very good) failed her. Could she live there alone? No. Could we move in a 24/7 caregiver? No. Could she move in with me? No. Okay, what about moving into an Assisted Living Facility? No, no, no. She hated every alternative.

Her answer? Go before her vision did. Time and again, she reminded me of my promise not to allow resuscitation, not to allow her to be kept alive on some machine.

She kept threatening to eat all the things they told her she couldn't/shouldn't eat. For seemingly half her life, she was in Kaiser Hospital for this ailment or that ailment or some other ailment. She had a lot of ailments. She used to joke that she'd met every doctor in the facility except the ones who handled pregnancies, rollerblading injuries and erectile dysfunction.

Every patient, of course, has a medical record of all their appointments, tests, hospitalizations, examinations, etc. Later than you might have thought, Kaiser converted all of theirs from paper to computer and someone had to scan my mother's records. An administrator there congratulated my mother on having the thickest file in the history of the entire nationwide Kaiser organization. She was oddly proud of that.

She began to speak more and more of chili dogs. Whenever she stayed at that hospital, she was aware that right outside during the day, there was a food truck that specialized in them. Each time I asked her if she needed anything, she'd ask me to go down and get her six of them with onions. I'd reply as if I'd misheard her, "Fine. I'll bring you a box of unsalted saltine crackers and a fresh box of Kleenex."

One time she asked for the six chili dogs, I asked her, "What would you do if I did bring them?"

She didn't hesitate for a second. She answered, "Eat them and die happily." Then she added, "If you're a good, loving son, you'll bring them to me before I can't see at all." Other people in that position ask for poison or a gun. My mother favored Death by Chili Dog. I understand some states are now considering that in lieu of Lethal Injection.

Slowly but certainly, my concern about her changed. It was a tough turn to make but I moved from wanting her health to improve to wanting the end to be soon — certainly before she was blind without the "legally" — and free of pain. I was already there when her personal physician at Kaiser told me there was nothing more they could so for her at the hospital.

My mother wanted to go home but I instead put her into a nursing facility she'd been in before — a pretty good one, even though it was a pain-in-the-ass for me to drive all the way down to it in Torrance. They had a good Physical Therapy department and I told her that she needed some of that before she'd be able to return to her home. But I wasn't fooling her and she wasn't fooling me: She knew that I knew that she knew that I knew that she was not going back to that house, especially to live alone.

She was not uncomfy there. I hired a private caregiver to come in, take care of her laundry, get her things she needed and keep her company on those days when I could not get down there. The caregiver, as you're about to hear, more than earned what I paid her.

I was not there when the end came. I was voice-directing a Garfield recording session that afternoon and once it was over, I'd planned to drive down to the nursing home to visit her as I did every other day.

There is, of course, no "good" time for Congestive Heart Failure but some times are better than others. The day, for instance, was the last day her stay in that nursing home was being paid-for by Kaiser health insurance. We'd maxed out her covered days and starting the next morn, I was going to begin paying out-of-pocket by way of the nose, which would have really upset her if she'd known. At the time, I didn't know the precise date I'd begin paying and she didn't, either. At least, I don't think she did.

Also, the time of day was ideal for her. The nursing facility had an affiliation with Kaiser and they sent Kaiser doctors over to check on all the Kaiser patients who were housed there. The Kaiser doctor had visited her a half-hour earlier and was just leaving the building when it happened. The caregiver was with her, just getting ready to go on an errand.

Suddenly, my mother felt a pain she'd never felt before, knew exactly what it was and yelled, "Get someone." I'm sure at that moment she was more concerned about pain than survival. She probably even liked the part about not surviving any longer.

Instantly, the caregiver sprinted out to the parking lot where the doctor was just getting into her car to head back to Kaiser. Ten seconds later, the doctor was in my mother's room with her bag. She took one look at my mother, ordered an ambulance and administered something to lessen the pain.

The nursing home had its own ambulance and it was only two blocks from a very large hospital. That was one of the reasons I'd chosen it. They had her there in five minutes, as opposed to the hour or so it would have taken if she'd had that attack at home.

In the rush, her purse and her I.D. were separated from her so the emergency room crew did not immediately get the "do not resuscitate" directive. In its absence, they did everything they could to bring her back to life but nothing helped. Her purse with the D.N.R. notice in it arrived a few minutes later but by then, it didn't matter.

I wished, of course, I could have been there but it was best that she went quickly. Nothing will ever convince me she wasn't happy it was over…especially before she went totally blind. The E.R. doctor who phoned to break the news to me said it was probably painless, in large part because the Kaiser doctor was there and gave her something. I'm not sure what it was but I'd like to think it was six chili dogs. With onions.

I still intend when I get a moment to write a long post about the late Al Feldstein, a giant in the world of comics who I feel deserves a lot more credit for many of the things he accomplished…and maybe a bit less for a few of them. Pressing deadlines — the kind Al was fierce about meeting all his life — prevent me from doing that just yet.

However, a whole cluster of e-mails have come in from folks asking me where on this silly blog of mine they can find the story I told here two years ago about Al Feldstein and Ray Bradbury. Here is where you will find Part One. Here is where you will find Part Two. Here is where you will find Part Three. And here is where you will find Part Four.

Some day soon when I (ho-ho) have some time, I will be adding a new feature to this blog — an index of where to find my most-read posts. There are well over 20,000 posts here — I missed noting when we hit the 20,000 mark a few months back — and at least 3,000 of them are not about cole slaw, tomato soup, Frank Ferrante, Jay Leno, Jack Kirby, Obamacare, baby pandas or famous people dying.

This is Lewis Black on Jimmy Fallon's show Friday night. I don't have a Season Pass to Mr. Fallon's show on my TiVo — the first time I ever haven't had a Season Pass to The Tonight Show since I got a TiVo, which was like the first week anyone in the country had a TiVo. I TiVoed Fallon's show at first then found myself not wanting to watch them. My attitude became, "I don't need to TiVo this. If there's anything wonderful on the show, I'll hear about it and I can watch it on YouTube." And that's happened, I think, twice since he took over.

Then I noticed Lewis Black was on and I figured, well, I love him so I'll record that episode instead of catching him on YouTube and I set it…and here's how fate works. Friday night, we had a power failure in my area from, I suppose, all those folks running air conditioners because it was so hot. It didn't last long — just long enough to shut things down here for about two minutes. My TiVo was recording when it hit and then when power came back on, it had to reboot. Once it did, it started a new recording to get the rest of the program that was interrupted. And what I got was a two-part recording of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon. Part One ended with him introducing Lewis Black. Part Two began with him thanking Lewis Black for the great routine. The power failure edited Lewis Black out of the show.

So I had to watch him on YouTube after all and I figured since I did, you might as well.

Mr. Black was on to promote his new stand-up special, Old Yeller, which debuted earlier that evening on Epix and which my TiVo captured without editorial interruption. Black is my favorite stand-up working today but I didn't feel this was one of his best. It sometimes is like he's running out of things to bitch about and he's bitching about some topics just because he needs X minutes of new material. There are times I felt that way about another favorite, George Carlin. I'd think, "Is he really that outraged about that?" Here, however, is Black doing the kind of thing I enjoy. Even if it is about colonoscopies…

Okay, so I'm not posting much lately. Sorry. I will more than make up for it tomorrow with another Tale of My Mother.

I didn't link this year to the videos of the White House Correspondents' Dinner because I've started to get real uncomfy with the whole concept. I used to be interested in it from the viewpoint of a comedy writer observing perhaps the toughest stand-up gig in the world and how various comics rose (or didn't) to the challenge. That's still of interest but there's a certain overriding phoniness to the occasion; to all these folks who accuse each other of destroying America and human lives all getting dressed-up to joke and act like Milton Berle and Buddy Hackett insulting each other at a Friars Roast. I haven't quite sorted out how it bothers me or even that it should but until I'm clearer on it with myself, I don't feel like writing about the event. If you want to view the speeches or highlights, there are only about eighty thousand places on the Internet to find them.

A list is circulating on the 'net of folks CBS is allegedly considering for Craig Ferguson's time slot. The list is Neil Patrick Harris, Michael Ian Black, Joel McHale, Aisha Tyler, Jason Jones, John Hodgman and Amy Schumer. I am skeptical this list actually came from a significant CBS source. It sounds like a list any blogger could have made up, which is not to say CBS might not have discussed any or all of these people. I could imagine any one of them doing a pretty good show. Real CBS sources are saying that there have been no discussions and that there will be no announcement before the upfronts, which are on May 14.

I don't believe the first part of that. Some of those folks are in-demand and are getting offers for other projects every day. If they decide they want Neil Patrick Harris, for instance, they at least have to open discussions now with his reps to see if he's interested, to get a sense of what kind of commitment he would want. What if he gets a huge offer for a movie that will occupy him for all of 2015? Or an offer of a contract for a different show, talk or otherwise, on a different network? His reps are not going to let N.P.H. lose out on those other gigs on the chance that CBS might offer him the 12:35 slot.

Personally, I think Les Moonves knows exactly who they want even if they haven't firmed up a deal. He must have made some decision as to whether CBS wanted to pursue Harris for another prime-time series…and that might be the reason Neil doesn't succeed Ferguson: Because CBS wants to see if they can steer him back to prime-time. But I do believe they won't be making the announcement until after the upfronts if only so it doesn't detract from the other business they hope to do there. And my money is still on Neil Patrick Harris with a small side bet on Aisha Tyler. Norm MacDonald, who's been out there campaigning for the job, probably has about the same chance as Donald Sterling…which is a shame because he's a very funny guy. (Norm, not Don…)

Last month was the first in this blog's existence when the income from my Amazon links and PayPal contributions didn't pay for the bandwidth the blog consumes. That was a function of the former going down and the latter going up. It's not a big deal if I have to pay — I can afford it — but I thought it was worth a subtle hint. Thanks in advance to anyone who takes it.

I was at Costco yesterday and I bought a barbecued chicken, a package of raw New York Steaks, a case of canned cat food, some notions for the bathroom, a package of batteries, a package of light bulbs, some supplies my Cleaning Lady demanded (someday, she'll figure out that she works for me) and a box containing enough Cheerios to last me three years or until my June visit to Costco, whichever occurs first.

Oh, yeah — and I bought a huge package of paper towels. When you depart Costco, there's an employee at the exit who checks the items in your cart against the items on your receipt…and it doesn't matter how many you have or how they're piled on top of each other in the cart. This employee can miraculously and instantly and with obvious x-ray vision, determine that the purchases in your cart precisely match the items on your receipt. I believe they're also not allowed to let you out unless you've purchased a huge package of either paper towels or toilet paper. Most people get one of each just to make certain they're permitted to leave the building.

And I also bought the complete collection of Yancy Derringer episodes on DVD. This may come as a surprise. Those of you who memorize every word of this blog like you're supposed to do, will recall that in this post almost two years ago, I wrote about my fondness for that old TV series, I gave you this Amazon link to order the complete set and I told you I'd advance-ordered it.

Which I had…but there was a problem with something else I ordered at the same time and that whole order got canceled. I somehow never got around to reordering the DVD which turns out to have been fortuitous. Back then, it was $31.44 and as you can see in the above pic, I got the same exact DVD yesterday at Costco for seventeen dollars. There were 34 episodes of the series so that's fifty cents a Yancy. (If you'd like to use that Amazon link now, the price as I type this is $18.71. Or you could go to Costco and get toilet paper and a barbecued chicken while you're at it.)

As we've discussed here before, a lot of shows I enjoyed in my youth have not aged well. Neither have I but leave that aside. I still think every episode of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. was later rewritten and refilmed to make it silly and chintzy-looking. They were not like that when I first saw them. I now can't believe I watched more than three episodes of My Favorite Martian without getting tired of their one plot. (Uncle Martin has accidentally been transformed into a _____ and Tim has to find him before he _____.) Today, if you were determined to get me to watch multiple episodes of Land of the Giants, you'd have to strap me into that chair that they put Malcolm McDowell in in A Clockwork Orange.

But some shows hold up. I've been watching Adam 12 lately on MeTV and before that, they ran the entirety of F Troop and I'd forgotten what a good show that was. And of course, shows like Sgt. Bilko and The Dick Van Dyke Show and Car 54, Where Are You? only seem to get better with each passing fall schedule. I caught some Yancy Derringers on MeTV and other cable channels and I enjoyed them enough to commit to all of them. Jock Mahoney was awfully good in the title role.

I can't believe that in that earlier post, I neglected to tell you of my own encounter with Mr. Mahoney. It was at one of the first San Diego Cons back at the El Cortez Hotel. These were the cons that we now call Comic-Con International.

Today, they're full of movie and TV stars but at this one, which must have been around 1975, Jock Mahoney was one of the biggest TV and movie stars on the premises. Kirk Alyn, who had played Superman in some movie serials, was usually at the cons and you could sometimes spot David Carradine walking around…but that was about it. Mahoney, who had once played Tarzan in a couple of very poor Tarzan movies, was hanging out with Russ Manning, who was drawing the Tarzan newspaper strip. I was then writing and editing Tarzan comic books — though not for long — so you figure that when Russ introduced me to Mr. Mahoney, we'd all talk about Tarzan.

But we didn't. We talked about Yancy Derringer…which pleased Mahoney a lot because he thought very few people at the con knew who he was and that none of them remembered the elegant Mr. Derringer. Somewhere in what I jokingly call my files, I have a photo of Jock, Russ and me and if I ever find it, I'll post it here, assuming I don't look too stupid in it.

I wish I could remember everything we talked about. I know I kidded him about always stealing Pahoo's lines. (Pahoo was Yancy's Indian sidekick and he never spoke.) I know we talked about how he had been a stunt man and was now involved in some program/school that was training new stunt people. And I know we talked about his stepdaughter, Sally Field. But mostly, we talked about what I'd liked about Yancy Derringer, which was how classy and non-prone to violence his character was. At a time on TV when everyone was shooting at everyone else, it was a welcome relief.

He seemed to be in fine shape but later, someone told me he was still recovering from a stroke a few years earlier. He died in 1989. If you buy the DVDs or just catch some episodes somewhere, you'll see why he was one of my favorite TV leading men.

I agree with this video…

For a guy who's pretty healthy, I find that I have an amazing number of doctors. I have my Primary Care Physician, of course, but my phone book also contains the numbers of my dermatologist, my dentist, my ophthalmologist, my gastroenterologist, my proctologist, my urologist, my cardiologist, my podiatrist, my orthopedist and a vascular surgeon who helped me with a circulatory problem relating to my recent knee problems. (I am only listing doctors to whom I will probably return some day. There's also, for instance, the gent who performed my Gastric Bypass Surgery in 2006.)

Generally what happens is that my Primary Care Physician (or P.C.P. for short) refers me to a specialist and I go to see that specialist and I either like that specialist and continue to see him or her as needed…or I don't like that specialist and I go in search of someone else who does that same thing. I went to five dermatologists before I found one I liked enough to call my own. I also went through a couple of P.C.P.s before I found the one I have now.

What made me not like certain doctors? My main complaint has not been their competence as men and women of medicine. I've only left two because of that. Mainly what's driven me away has been not being able to get their attention. When I went to them, they either were in too much of a hurry to get on to their next patient or they passed me on to a Physician's Assistant in their offices.

The worst of the "too busy" guys was a world-famous nutritionist I went to long before 2006, before I had my weight generally under control. I asked my current P.C.P. to send me to the best nutritionist he knew of and he recommended a man I'll call Dr. Occupado. "He's a genius," my P.C.P. said…but he added, "You may have trouble getting an appointment." Sure enough, when I called up, they said the next opening they had was in the middle of May. I was calling the first week of March.

I made the appointment anyway and showed up on time, expecting to spend a half-hour or more discussing my various eating disorders and food allergies and what I should and shouldn't eat. Instead, I waited well over an hour for a whopping five minutes with Dr. Occupado. He gave me some good information before bolting for his next appointment…but how much good can a doctor do you in five minutes? I never even got to tell him about the allergies…and since he charged above 'n' beyond what my insurance would pay, I spent about $100 for those five minutes.

Still, I sensed this was a brilliant doctor who could help me so on my way out, I made another appointment…and I got lucky. He had an opening in June.

In June, I went back and after another considerable wait, got another five minutes from Dr. Occupado. He had, he explained as he walked in, an interview waiting for a very important magazine. I started wondering if any of the magazines I worked for would send me to interview him but at that moment, the only one was Groo the Wanderer and all I would have gotten was nutritional information on cheese dip.

Still, the five minutes I got were not without their benefit and I still thought the man knew his business so on the way out, I stopped at the desk. The woman there asked me, "Would you like to make an appointment for your next visit?" I said, "No, I'd like to make four appointments for my next visit. I would like to book four appointments, one right after another."

This was me trying to outgame the system…which once in a while in this world, it's possible to do. I figured this way, he couldn't leave me for his next appointment because I would be his next appointment. And I had this crazy idea that this "stunt" would make him realize I needed some special attention and maybe he'd see me for as long as I needed, if not that day then someday.

For about thirty seconds, I thought I was so, so clever. That was until the woman said as she paged through her calendar, "I'm sorry but if you want four appointments with him, they'll be in July, September, late October and then there's one open just before we close down for Christmas."

I asked, "Does he have four consecutive appointments open any day in July?" She said, "Yes but other patients have tried this and I've been told not to book them that way."

I left without making even one appointment.

The lasting value of my attempts to actually get doctored by Dr. Occupado was this: Since then, when I meet a new doctor, I try to find a way to work that tale into the conversation. It's my way of telling them up front what I consider lousy doctoring, just to see what they say. Many of them know of Dr. Occupado and nod in understanding…and then they make sure they spend enough time with me. Either that or they show their true colors early on and I can quickly write them off as a long-term relationship.

None of my current specialists ever rushes me but I couldn't have written those words two days ago. Yesterday, I made a change. Over the last year or two, one doctor began going the Physician's Assistant route. It wasn't that I could only see him for five minutes. I couldn't see him at all. I'd make an appointment with him, go into the examining room to await his usually-delayed entry…and instead. a P.A. would come into the examining room, introduce him or herself, and begin doing his job for him.

So, what exactly is a Physician's Assistant?

A physician assistant or associate is a healthcare professional who is licensed to practice medicine as part of a team with physicians. Physician assistants are concerned with preventing and treating human illness and injury by providing a broad range of health care services under the direction of a physician or surgeon. Physician assistants conduct physical exams, diagnose and treat illnesses, order and interpret tests, prescribe medications, counsel on preventive health care and may assist in surgery.

In other words, "I'm not a doctor but I play one in a doctor's office."

The bait-and-switch did not sit well with me and the Physician's Assistants — I went through three there — told me so little, I had the feeling they were researching my condition on Wikipedia. That, by the way, is where I found the above definition.

I have no idea how much the first P.A. knew about the particular area of medicine because English was not his first language. It did not seem to be his second, third or eighth, either. I am used to not being able to understand the nouns doctors use but with this guy, I couldn't parse the verbs, adjectives or adverbs, and only the occasional article. After three visits where I felt like I was being treated by Sid Caesar, I specified that my next appointment be with The Doctor himself.

I went to see him, waited in the examining room…and in came a different P.A. He was a nice guy and I could understand him. But my insurance and I were paying full price and I was getting about a third of a doctor.

On the way out of my second and what I'd decided would be my last appointment with P.A. #2, I ran into the real doctor in the hallway. He was all smiles until I told him I was not happy seeing people from a temp agency instead of him. "I supervise them all very carefully," he assured me. "They're giving you the exact same treatment you would get from me."

I said, "Are you telling me that these people who do not have the legal right to call themselves 'doctors' know as much as you do?" He said no, of course not, though someday they might. I said, "Well, it's my health here and I'd kinda like to entrust it to the most knowledgeable person in this office. Every time I come here, there are more and more names on your door. On my way in, I checked for mine because I thought it had to be a list of patients."

He laughed, apologized and promised that my next visit there would be with him…and it was. Unfortunately, there was also this woman there, observing and listening and taking notes. And after ten or so minutes, he turned me over to P.A. #3 and left. So now I've left him.

My P.C.P. gave me a new referral and I got all my records from the busy specialist's office and gave them to the new guy. The new guy isn't a new guy to medicine — he's been practicing for thirty years — but he's new to me. And he doesn't have any Physician's Assistants. When I go there, there'll be nobody there for me to see but him.

Matter of fact, he needed some blood from me and I figured he'd do what every single doctor of my lifetime has done, which is to call in a nurse and have her take it. Instead, he had me roll up my sleeve and he hauled out the equipment and took it himself. I'm 62 years old and I can't recall a person with the title of "doctor" ever taking blood from me before.

His nurse had taken my blood pressure and jotted down my height and weight before I saw him, and I asked him why she wasn't taking my blood. He leaned in very confidentially and told me, "It makes her squeamish." I think I'm going to like this guy.

Biola University is a private Christian university located in Southern California and committed to biblically centered education, intentional spiritual development and vocational preparation. Each year, they stage the Biola Media Conference, which their website describes as "an event for Christians in Hollywood to gather and spur one another to become not just better at their craft, but the best."

This year's will be held tomorrow in Studio City and the 2014 Biola Media Award honoree is my idol, Stan Freberg. Their press release says, "We are excited to have the legendary Stan Freberg join us for BMC 2014. Known best for his work on the radio, Freberg has integrated his faith into popular culture, inspiring generations of media and entertainment creators. His works are classics, and 70 years later, Freberg remains active in the industry."

I think they're underselling their honoree a bit here. Radio has only been a part of Stan's amazing career which has included movies, hit records and television. When he pioneered the funny commercial, a lot of critics said his spots were the best things on TV. It's a big honor for a man who's received a lot of them…and a special one. Stan's father was a Baptist minister who attended Biola.

More details on the event, including how to attend, are over at this website.

Cookie Monster and the Beetles (not to be confused with the Beatles) sing a song parody set not to "Hey, Jude" but to a tune that's meant to be confused with it…

Zip Lines are all the rage in some areas. Skip the rest of this paragraph if you know what a zip line is. What a zip line is is a long, strong cable strung between two points, at least one of which is elevated. You pay money, they strap you into a harness and you go on a ride from Point A to Point B, sorta flying. It's over quick but some folks love the sensation…and then there are those of us who are sane and look on this "attraction" the same way we'd view someone asking us if we want to buy a ticket to be hit over the head with Gallagher's Sledge-O-Matic. Or worse, see Gallagher's act.

There are several zip lines in Vegas with more soon to open. The most popular is Slotzilla, which recently opened downtown. It shoots you down Fremont Street on a 850-foot cable, launched from a 77-foot platform…but they're not done yet.

In a few months, they expect to open what they're calling a "zoom line." This will be higher and faster and it will put you in a horizontal position so you'll be flying like Superman. I'll bet most people will pretend that's who they are when they do it (or maybe Green Lantern or maybe Thor…) and if the harnesses will allow it, which they probably won't, I'll bet some people will try to do it in costume.

If you've always fantasized about flying like a super-hero for four blocks of downtown Las Vegas, this might be the best opportunity you'll ever have. Me? I've never had a flying dream or flying fantasy in my life. These days, my big fantasy is to be caught up on deadlines.

Many years ago, I was in Vegas near a previous zip line and a friend tried to talk me into it. I had an excuse. I was heavier then and exceeded the maximum weight limit…so that ended that discussion. Now, I weigh a lot less and I could do it. But just because you can do something doesn't mean you should…or that you want to. I don't want to but I offer this information since some people probably want to. Heck, some people even want to go see Gallagher.