Monthly Archives: March 2018

I haven't done as many of these lately because, frankly, even I'm getting tired of stories about how incompetent and dishonest the guy and his administration are. And here's one opinion I've come to which I'll pass along for what little it may be worth: Those who are predicting what Robert Mueller will do and when he will do it are speculating blindly. It sure looks to me like all the leaks are coming from the Trump side, none from Mueller's office. He'll tell us what he's doing when he's good and ready. Now, this…

• Kellyanne Conway, Jared Kushner and other members of Trump's mob seem to have been violating the Hatch Act.  I'm sure Trump will take immediate action to discipline them.
• As the New York Times editorial writers point out, Trump sure loves them dictatorial leaders who rule for life and can silence their critics.
• Daniel Larson thinks Trump's decision about tariffs was (a) a bad one and (b) arrived at almost on a whim.  This is not a good way of running the country.
• And William Saletan tells us how much other Republicans don't like them.  For once, they're not following Donald like sheep.
• How come Paul Ryan so fiercely backs Trump on just about everything?  Jonathan Chait has a good explanation: "[Ryan] was inculcated at a young age with the works of theorists like Ayn Rand, George Gilder, and Jude Wanniski, all of whom share a belief that the core mission of political life is to protect the earned wealth of the rich from political redistribution by the masses."

And I see that Trump's top economic advisor, Gary Cohn, is jumping ship. He got his big corporate tax cut and now he doesn't want to take the blame for what happens next. Can't wait to hear Trump's next speech about loyalty.

Our pal Steve Stoliar caught this. On this week's new episode of Pawn Stars, a gent brings in a book from the mid-seventies to sell — a bound book in which 41 cartoonists signed autographs and most also did a sketch for someone named Katherine. I used to like this show when I first discovered it but it got so repetitive and formulaic and obviously rehearsed that I gave up on it. (I also didn't like how in some episodes, the Pawn Stars family treated each other badly. I'm told there's less of that on the program now.)

As is usual for this show, a member of the Pawn Stars team (in this case, Chumlee) says something like, "Hey, this is neat. Would you mind if I got a buddy of mine who's an expert in these things to come down and take a look at it?"

The would-be seller says sure. The Expert Buddy comes in…and about 90% of the time, the E.B. authenticates the item and says it's worth X, then says "Thanks for letting me take a look at it" and leaves. Expert Buddies in Las Vegas seem to have nothing better to do than drop everything they're doing and rush over to the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop to help out, even if it means helping a competitor. The seller almost always accepts what the Pawn Stars guy's friend says. Then, once the E.B. is gone, the haggling starts with the seller starting by asking X and going down from there.

In this case, the seller came in wanting $2000 for the book and though the expert said it was worth $2000, the seller settled for [SPOILER ALERT!] $800. I don't know how fair that would be since we don't see all 41 autographs. We get quick peeks and see Milton Caniff, Don Rico, Steve Leialoha, Trina Robbins, Frank Ridgeway, Brad Anderson, Russell Myers, George Clayton Johnson, Walter Gibson, Jim McQuade and one or two others.

The two biggies the show focuses on are Joe Shuster and Jack Kirby. What would make this book truly rare is if someone somehow managed to circulate a sketch book at a San Diego Con and somehow didn't get Sergio Aragonés.

My keen deductive abilities suggest the book was circulated at one or more San Diego Cons and I have a hunch some of the circulating was done by the con's figurehead founder, Shel Dorf, on behalf of Katherine, whoever she is. The Caniff drawing is dated 1976 and I don't think Caniff was at the con that year. Shel was then lettering the Steve Canyon newspaper strip for Caniff and visiting him often. Maybe Shel took it along on one of those visits.

Two other things I should mention. One is that if you catch the episode, ignore what Chumlee says about Jack Kirby and Joe Shuster. His command of comic book history is not great. In fact, most of the expertise we hear on that show from the principles sounds like it comes from a researcher on the staff who cribs stuff from Wikipedia.

Secondly and oddly: The drawing they show most during this segment is this one…

I assume that's because it's Bugs Bunny. It certainly isn't because the "cartoonist" is very good or notable. I used to do such sketches for those who asked but I was never too comfy doing it. Even if I'd had real art supplies and a lot of time available to me, I didn't feel I should despoil a book containing drawings by folks like Kirby and Caniff. When I did, I always heard the Sesame Street song, "One of These Things is Not Like the Others" playing in my brain.

I drew a lot when I was a lad but while I enjoyed it, I never enjoyed it the way most great artists I know enjoyed it. I liked writing about a hundred times as much and felt I was way better at it. I'm not sure whether I enjoyed drawing less because I wasn't as good at it or if I wasn't as good at it because I enjoyed it less but either option gets you to pretty much the same place.

Have I ever told you the moment when I decided to give it up? I'll tell you if you promise to not think I'm suggesting I am in any way comparable to James Thurber. I was reading a book about him and they were discussing the period when he was going blind. About that, he wrote…

If I couldn't write, I couldn't breathe but giving up drawing is only a little worse than giving up tossing cards in a hat. I once flipped in forty-one out of the whole deck, at twelve feet.

That's about how I felt and upon reading that quote, I instantly felt that I had permission to not draw in any venue where a real cartoonist was expected. It's one of those life decisions that I've made and never regretted for a second. Since then, what I do are not drawings but doodles…and on that basis, where absolutely no standards apply, they ain't bad. I'm also, by the way, not very good at tossing cards in a hat. Maybe I should try that again, only having it not be on somebody's head when I attempt it.

Last night's Oscars were the lowest-rated ever. I didn't think they were any worse than any recent telecast and I can give you a couple of reasons why the numbers were so bad. In fact, here's three…

1. Few moviegoers had any emotions attached to any of the nominees. The field this year was full of good movies with good performances but they commanded respect more than love. The question generating the most suspense was "Will they open the right envelope this time?"
2. The ratings of most things on broadcast television are going down. Why should the Academy Awards be any different?
3. Here's a point I rarely see anyone mention. Audiences these days are becoming more and more accustomed to watching TV shows with no commercial interruptions. The commercials on the Super Bowl seem less frequent and they're a point of interest by themselves. More and more though, I think all those cutaways to ads throughout the Oscars are seeming more and more intrusive.

Jimmy Kimmel did as good a job as host as anyone has for years. I like him more than I used to but I still see him as a competent guy who does a decent job reading — and perhaps selecting and editing — what is usually pretty good material. What he lacks as an Oscar host is importance. It's nothing special to see Jimmy Kimmel host a TV program that starts with a monologue. He does that (literally) across the street five times a week.  I understand why ABC wants to promote their late-night host but maybe, some year, they might try having this show about movie stars hosted by a movie star?

That said, I don't think Kimmel is the reason the ratings were so low.  I think America just didn't care that much who won.

The one thing that bothered me during the proceedings was the little field trip…when Kimmel took a bunch of A-list stars next door to interrupt a regular movie screening.  There was a certain air of condescension to it…as there is in most of Kimmel's outside-the-studio stunts.  In this case, the premise felt like "Let's take royalty over and watch the peons go out of their minds with worship and hysteria."

When the stars started tossing Raisinets to them and firing hot dogs at them from a hot dog cannon, it reminded me of Donald Trump cluelessly lobbing rolls of paper towels to desperate, homeless Puerto Ricans.  And yeah, I guess I'm exaggerating a bit but maybe a fourth reason fewer people were watching is that the public is getting tired of watching the rich and famous celebrate how rich and famous they are.  An awful lot of folks in this country think Big Stars look down on them…and certainly some do.

But I still don't think it was a bad show.

As usual, folks are grousing over who might have been in the "In Memoriam" reel and wasn't.  Among those who could have been there were Dorothy Malone, Glen Campbell, John Hillerman, Rose Marie, Stephen Furst, Powers Boothe, Miguel Ferrer, Robert Guillaume and Frank Vincent…and that's just among the actors.  Nice though to see June Foray and stuntman Loren Janes.  And to hear Len Wein mentioned when they read the screenwriting nomination for Logan.

I'm not suggesting there's a way to have an "In Memoriam" segment without a few somebodies being omitted.  But given how much time-wasting goes on at these things, I don't think it would be wrong to extend the montage another minute or so and get thirty more names in.

Lastly: Let's not forget the main reason for this show each year.  It's to give Ken Levine something to write snarky insults about.  Listen to his podcast and you'll be glad they have this ceremony.

Here's a link to learn darn near everything you need to know about cooking rice.

Hey, if you have a moment, read this article by Ezra Klein. It's about an intriguing definition of Conservatism and how Donald Trump tapped into it.

It comes from political theorist Corey Robin who says it's "the felt experience of having power, seeing it threatened, and trying to win it back." Yeah. Every self-described Conservative I know is always talking about how things were better "back then."

But I also note that most self-described Liberals I know are always talking about how television was better "back then" or movies were better "back then" or comic books or plays. All of this, of course, only applies to people who are old enough to have a real sense of "back then," whenever "then" is for them.

If you go on YouTube and search, you'll find dozens and dozens of videos from productions of the musical, Little Shop of Horrors.  Since this show was released for local productions, hundreds of Audrey II puppets have been built and operated (and rented) for various productions.  A friend called my attention to this clip, which is the best Audrey II I've ever seen.  The design is great, the construction is great, the voice is great and the puppeteer is outstanding.

Who built this puppet?  Who's working it?  Who's doing the voice?  I have no idea because the clip comes with no information of any kind, not even as to where this production was mounted.  If you know, lemme know.  In the meantime, take a look at the really masterful bit of puppetry…

Lydia is back home in my back yard. She ate a bit, though nowhere near her usual amount. The vet found nothing wrong with her other than advanced age and advised me to "keep an eye on her" — so I guess I went to all that trouble just to get a second opinion. She seems a little better now but only a little.

And I guess I shlepped her over to this vet just to be told that there's really nothing that can be done for her. She'll be around until she's no longer around, which is pretty much the prognosis for all of us. Sorry if I spoiled any good moods out there with my morning worries but it's quite unlike her to be absent for so long and I was right that something is wrong.

She would kick and scream and claw if I tried to keep her inside but otherwise, I'm going to keep not one but both eyes on her and do whatever I can to make her comfy. Unless, of course, she refuses to pay off on our Oscar bet. Get Out as Best Picture? What was that cat thinking?

Still waiting. And trying to figure out where Lydia got twenty bucks.

Apparently, we're waiting for the "In Memoriam" reel or maybe the Irving Thalberg Award. Lydia is offering to bet me twenty bucks that Get Out wins for Best Picture.

I tried to just keep an eye on her but she's been acting so sick that I'm coming to you now from the waiting room of a vet who's open on Sunday. He's only charging me double plus a special "Interrupting My Academy Awards Viewing" rate.

Lydia is here with me in a cage. I don't mean we're both in a cage. She's in a cage and I just belong in one. She was a lot easier to catch this time than last time. We're waiting for the vet who says he'll get to us some time after they present Best Supporting Actress. More later.

The fine actor/conductor has passed away at the age of 75. I can't think of anything he did on screen that I didn't think was well done and my personal interactions with him consisted of one long day and a couple of follow-up phone calls. To hear from someone who really worked with the man, go read my pal Ken Levine.

In 1996, I helped Stan Freberg out when he recorded the long-awaited — and by "long," I mean like three and a half decades — Volume 2 of Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America. There's a long story of why it took so long but it has nothing to do with the late Mr. Stiers. One of the main contributions I made was to talk Stan out of using his old stock player, Jesse White, in many of the key roles. Jesse had been the co-star of Volume 1 and if Stan had done the second one in the sixties, seventies or even the eighties, Jesse could well have filled the parts Stan had him down to play.

But in '96, I'd worked with Jesse recently enough to know that fine performer was no longer up to it. In fact, he passed away early in '97. Jesse was instead assigned a small cameo role on the album and Stan chose Stiers to fill most of the roles Jesse was to have done. David was honored and thrilled to part of the project but early in the recording session, he began to have trouble with Stan's tendency — which he himself used to admit and joke about — to do way more takes of a song than were necessary. As I mentioned at the June Foray Celebration last September, Stan once had her, the rest of the cast and the Capitol Records Orchestra do 100+ takes on a record…and when the record was released, what was on it was Take #2.

David was worried that his voice would not hold up for the rest of the day but he was too polite/professional to tell that to Stan. Instead, he took me aside and asked/told me, "Please…if we start a song and you think it's not perfect, please stop it instead of letting us sing the entire thing." I told him I would and to the extent possible — since Stan was in charge and he always said, "That's fine but let's try it one more time" — I did.

During breaks, David and I talked about…well, about everything except his years on M*A*S*H. That may very well be what you know him best for and I never heard him say a negative thing about the show but he clearly did not want to be thought of just as a guy who was on that series. We talked a lot about his first love, which was classical music. I don't know a lot about that subject but I do know Gershwin and Jerome Kern and Gilbert & Sullivan and a few others that were close enough.

He was charming and bright and utterly disinterested in the money for the job, which was not much. And when someone asked him about M*A*S*H, he was polite but he rapidly moved the conversation elsewhere.

Years ago, a producer I knew told me, "There are two kinds of actors in the business…those who want to be rich and famous but also want to do good work, and those who just care about the good work." Based on what I've read and seen about David Ogden Stiers along with that one day we worked together, I'd peg him as the Poster Boy for the second kind. He certainly succeeded in that category.

She lives! She turned up on my back porch within the last hour but she is not a well cat. She's moving slowly and walking sadly and when I put out some food for her, she inspected and rejected it, opting instead for a few laps of water from a nearby dish. I put out two other small dishes — one of another flavor of Friskies and one of some moist, dark meat turkey pieces that were going to be part of my lunch. No interest.

This is not like her. This is not like any feral cat that's in good health. Our old pal The Stranger Cat acted like this in his final days.

I called the two vets I know. Both are closed for the weekend but one phone was answered by an assistant. She says there's nothing they can do today except tell me, "Keep an eye on her." So I'm going to keep an eye on her.

I fear the worst. It's been several days since I've seen Lydia and she's never been gone this long before.

Lydia was (or, I hope, still is) one of the many feral cats I've fed in my backyard over the years. It started with Jackie, a reddish cat who was found, seriously underfed, rummaging through my trash cans one day in 1991. I began putting out grub for her and she was a more-or-less constant presence in the yard until 2003.

During much of that time, she chased off any other cat or animal that encroached on what she'd decided was her turf but she apparently had other duties elsewhere. She couldn't be there 24/7 so other cats snuck in to partake of the buffet and near the end, Jackie got a bit more generous with the food I was paying for. By the time she crawled under my house and died, I was feeding other felines on the back porch. I've never been out of customers since then.

Lydia, as I eventually named her, showed up here around June of 2007. We called her The Kitten then and if I left the door to the garage open, she would usually sneak in there to look for food. That year, she somehow managed to be hiding in there when Carolyn and I left for the Comic-Con in San Diego, locking the door behind us. Ergo, we unknowingly locked The Kitten in there.

When we returned 4.5 days later, we found her — hungry but unharmed. I had left an uncapped bottle of drinking water on a counter in there and she somehow knocked it over and got to the water. She was a good sport about it. Once I'd fed her, she forgave me for what I'd done.

A little less than a year later, she somehow got pregnant…and maybe I shouldn't say "somehow" because there's only one way that happens. In an epic adventure which I recounted in this diary, I managed to trap her and take her in for a pussycat abortion. She also forgave me for that…and she's been coming around since then. For a time, I had four cats out there with occasional guest stars but lately, it's been down to two: Her and Sylvia.

So Lydia has been in my backyard for around well over ten years…and if she wasn't in my yard, like when my gardener was out there, she was in an adjoining neighbor's. Sylvia comes around almost every night but Lydia is there for breakfast, lunch, dinner and a midnight snack. Or at least she did. I haven't seen her since last Thursday and like I said, I fear the worse.

I didn't mean to dump this on you. I mean, I know how many other problems and concerns you have on your mind and it's possible Lydia's just vacationing in Barbados or something. Then again, the average life span of a feral cat is 3-5 years and Lydia's around 11. I'll let you know if she shows up but I have a not-good feeling about this…a real not-good feeling about this.

Last October when Amber and I were in New York, one of the shows we saw was Prince of Broadway, a paste-up presentation of show-stopping numbers from shows that were produced and/or directed by Harold Prince. I wrote about it here and about my reaction, which was that I liked it but did not love it. Several of the numbers were quite wonderful but the show didn't quite come together as anything more than a nice sampler.

The show closed in New York at the end of that month and I said in the above-linked piece that I wished there had been a cast album because I'd like to hear some of those performances again. Well, it turns out that a cast album (a CD, actually) was recorded and it will be out next month.

And I found this video not of the New York production but of the earlier Japanese company. It's in English with many of the same actors I saw in New York. One of them is Bryonha Marie Parham, who tore the roof off the dump (as they say) performing the title song from Cabaret. You'll hear a few seconds of her in this video and get an idea what the show was like…

I'll bet I'm not the only person in Los Angeles who needs to seriously readjust his or her sense of how long it takes to get from here to there. Traffic has been awful lately and there seems to be a commission somewhere that figures out which streets I have to drive on and puts them permanently "Under Construction." I think it's staffed by the same people Chris Christie used to use for his bridge closures.

Not all that long ago, it took me fifteen minutes to drive from my house up to the Magic Castle in Hollywood. Lately, it's 25-30 and if the trend keeps up, I'll soon have to leave for Friday Lunch some time mid-Thursday evening.

I hate being late for things. Even when I can get there just barely when I'm supposed to be there, I hate that urgent feeling of "Will I make it on time? Will I make it on time?" Needless to say, I also hate it when someone else is late and keeps me waiting. That's why I hate being late: I don't like doing to someone else what I don't want them doing to me.

I don't claim to be infallible at arriving somewhere on schedule but I got better at it many years ago when I worked with the great TV host and producer Dick Clark. Dick, some said, was infallible when it came to being on time, which I guess is a skill you develop when you do a lot of live television and radio broadcasts. He also had to be in place every New Year's Eve in Times Square to cover the ball drop for Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve or whatever they called those specials.

One year, I was asked to write on one of those shows and it would have also meant accompanying Dick to New York for the live portion. I wrote about it here some years ago…

It meant working on the music segments that were all pre-taped in October — when the acts were available and not charging what they charge to perform on New Year's Eve — with the hosts saying, "And now, let's cut to Dick Clark in Times Square and see what's happening there. Dick, what's the mood like in New York tonight?" And while this was being taped in L.A., Dick was just off-camera. Then 12/31, Dick and I would fly to New York at the last possible minute, do the live remote from the rooftop, then fly back almost immediately.

I remember being amazed at how close he cut it, given that he had to be on the air live at a specific time…and it was not a time when travel in and out of the Times Square area was likely to be a breeze. If I absolutely had to be on a rooftop there at the moment the new year commenced, I think I'd have had them do the telecast from a hotel there, flown to New York a few days before, checked into that hotel and not left it…then flown home a few days later.

Dick's itinerary that year called for getting to his N.Y. hotel (a few blocks from where the chosen rooftop was located) around 4 PM on the last day of the year, making his way to the building somewhat later, then getting back to his hotel after the broadcast and flying home first thing the morning of January 1. I think it was like an 8 AM flight. Thinking back, it now sounds like it might have been a fun adventure but when it was offered, I somehow didn't imagine it that way.

I turned that down but worked with Dick on other things and did notice he was on time for every meeting, every taping, every everything…but I didn't gain any insight into how he managed that. Then one year, I was writing a special for ABC and Dick was booked to be its host. The producer-director was Bob Bowker, a gent who was skilled and experienced in both capacities. Bob had worked with Dick before too and he said to me a week before we taped, "The secret is not wasting his time. If we have our act together, he'll be the most cooperative performer you've ever worked with."

We worked out the schedule and then a few days before our tape date, we went over to the studio where Dick was taping American Bandstand. On a break, he took us into his dressing room and this is how the entire meeting went…

He said he was looking forward to doing the show with us. He'd worked with both of us so he said, "Just tell me when you need me on the set." We told him Noon. Dick then said — and this is a very rough reconstruction of it…

"Okay, I'll dress at home so I'll only need makeup and hair when I arrive. That's ten minutes. From where I park on that lot, it's about a five minute walk to the studio you're using so I need to arrive at 11:45. It's 40 minutes from my house so I'll leave Malibu at 11:05. Any particular way you need me dressed?"

I said, "A pink satin wedding gown with a hoop skirt and lavender brocade." Bob said, "What you're wearing now will be fine in any color." Dick said, "Fine. Just have everything on cards and I'll see you Wednesday at Noon."

We shook hands and headed for the door as he turned and began talking to the stage manager about the next thing they'd be taping for Bandstand. Our entire meeting lasted less than 180 seconds.

So right there was one lesson from the Dick Clark School of Never Being Late: Don't Waste Time. With someone else, that could have been a thirty-minute meeting. Hell, I've had two-hour meetings that accomplished less.

Wednesday morning, Bob and I — but mostly Bob — had everything arranged, including a thorough proofreading of the cue cards. Dick arrived in the Makeup Room at 11:44 and he walked onto our stage one minute before Noon. Bob showed him where to stand and which camera to face. I read the cue cards aloud to him as he read them to himself. At 12:03, we rolled tape. The opening ran about two minutes and though we were satisfied with Dick's read of it, he said, "I can do that better."

He read it again. He was satisfied with this one and so were we. Bob (who was directing from the booth) said, "That's fine. Moving on." It was 12:09 and the opening of the show was done and in the can. The rest of the taping went much the same way — or would have but for one guest star who was an hour late.

We had sent a limo for the guy, which is something a lot of shows do. It makes the guest feel very important and pampered but that's not why they do it. They do it because it helps get the person there on time. Only twice have I ever known it to backfire. Once, the guest refused to get into the limo because it wasn't fancy enough. There was a delay of around forty minutes while the limo company dispatched a fancier model.

The other time was on this special with Dick. The limo picked up the guest on-time but en route to the studio, the guest told the driver, "I need to get some new shoes to wear for this. Stop off on Rodeo Drive." The driver did so, the guest hopped out and disappeared into Gucci's. Twenty minutes later when he hadn't returned, the driver went in, couldn't find him and phoned us at the studio. This was before cell phones so there was nothing that could be done until the guest came back to the limo.  He got in empty-handed and said, "I couldn't find anything I liked so I'll just wear what I have on."

At the studio, we rearranged the taping sequence and did everything we could that didn't require the guest star but then there was nothing to do but await his arrival. Dick, who'd produced hundreds of TV shows and therefore had hundreds of guests arrive late or not at all, absolutely understood. He was pissed but not at us, especially since we clearly had arranged things properly — and again, that was mostly Bob's doing.

Killing the time, Dick and I got to talking about Not Being Late and he said something that I vividly recall, though for some reason I can't always remember it when I should.  He said, "You have to be very, very realistic about how long things take.  And you have to remember that unexpected things will always happen and you have to be real resourceful about working around them when they do."

Simple advice — and I'm usually pretty good at coming up with a Plan B when one is possible.  Sometimes, there isn't one.

But that first part about being realistic about how long things take…that's one that sometimes eludes me. I keep thinking it takes fifteen minutes to get to the Magic Castle even though the last half-dozen times, it's been more like double that. Fifteen is no longer realistic. I once had a lady friend who kept saying, "I can get completely packed in half an hour" but every time we traveled, it took in excess of ninety minutes. Not being realistic.

Traffic in Los Angeles has gotten worse and worse lately. A lot of it's street construction. Part of it is because at any given time, half the population is out, driving around for Lyft and/or Uber, waiting for the call to go drive around the other half. My G.P.S. is pretty good at recalibrating and adjusting for the congestion. I wish I could take that feature out of the G.P.S. and install it in my own head, as well as the heads of anyone who's supposed to meet me for lunch.