Monthly Archives: December 2020

When Stephen Colbert talks to guests via ZOOM (or whatever platform they use), he has to have his guests do a "slate." Here's a collection of them…

Yesterday when we left me on my Saturday walk, I decided not to waste time/effort/breath on a lady who insisted on wearing no mask because of the "hoax." I don't get why such people are so willing — almost eager — to risk their lives and the lives of those around them on the premise that something like 99% of all doctors who specialize in communicable diseases, as well as a solid majority of Americans, are wrong about this virus thing.

You have your conspiracy nuts who think the whole thing is a sham, there's no coronavirus and all those reported deaths are because some all-powerful cabal is wildly exaggerating the number of people who die from everyday causes and they're passing it off a pandemic. These conspiracy nuts should not be confused with the conspiracy nuts who've decided that the virus is real but it was man-made — probably by Bill Gates and George Soros pooling their spare change — to control us all and force us to submit to Socialism, Fascism and High Fructose Corn Syrup.

I got an e-mail a month or three ago from one guy who's in both camps: There is a virus, it is killing people, it was man-made…and it also doesn't really exist. But hey, why miss out on any reason to line one's chapeau with Reynolds Wrap?

When I moved on from the maskless lady on the corner, I noticed a sign on the front of a department store near me that used to be a KMart. I wrote back here about its spectacular — junk you don't want at prices you can't afford to turn down — sale. Then for several months, it was an empty, unlisted building…

Then suddenly one day, it was mysteriously painted purple or violet or magenta or pink or whatever you want to call this color…

What it was being turned-into was a pop-up museum called The Zone, aka The Britney Spears Zone. It was a touristy attraction for fans of Ms. Spears, filled with sets and costumes and re-creations of scenes from her most famous music videos. One could tour it for an admission price I don't recall but it was more than my curiosity wanted to pay — i.e., more than a dime. I'm not certain when it opened or how many people went through it before it was shut tight by The Pandemic. I suspect someone lost an awful lot of money.

Quietly and without notice, it was recently repainted to green and converted into what looks to me like a seasonal (only) department store. In its new identity, it cried out to be photographed and posted here because it so well represents what makes this Christmas different from all past Christmases and, we fervently hope, all future ones…

And below, there was a smaller sign announcing that Santa was away at the North Pole and would be back on duty soon.

If you go to the web address on the banner, you can read how they've achieved what they say is "the only safe photo with Santa in Los Angeles." It includes…

• The Magic Santa Shield is an acrylic barrier in place between Santa and families at all times.
• All surfaces are cleaned and sanitized between each visit.
• All team members wear face coverings. Customer requirements are based on local guidelines.
• Families standby in a designated area away from other shoppers.

…and that's how they offer a "contactless Claus." If it wasn't $45, I might have gone in and done the old "grin grin, wink wink, snap snap," just to see if they had elves scurrying around with bottles of Purell®. It seemed kinda…creepy to me, this whole idea of taking kids to see Santa but he's been sanitized for their protection.

But the more I thought about it, the more I thought this: Going to see Santa Claus at a department store has always been kinda creepy. You go there, you wait in line, you sit on his knee like dozens, maybe hundreds of other kids have. You tell him what you want for Christmas and face some sort of friendly interrogation from this stranger about whether you've been a good little boy or a bad little boy…

And you suspect this is not the real Santa. On the way in, you spotted Santa outside the store ringing a bell for Salvation Army donations. Somehow, this guy can give free toys and gifts to every little good boy or girl who hasn't been naughty. His elves can even somehow make the Wham-O, Hasbro, Ideal or Mattel toys you want for Christmas — or the toys of any other privately-held company…but he has to beg for loose change outside every department store in town and somehow, also appear inside every one so kids can visit him.

You begin to suspect the knee you're on might actually belong to some outta-work wino who somehow sobered up enough to land a job for the holidays. I thought back to when my folks took me to see Santa. I don't know what age I was but this a real, honest-to-God photo of me meeting The Man or a reasonable facsimile…

Does that kid on the right look happy to you? Does he look like he wants to sit on that old guy's knee? Wouldn't he prefer to not be there or at least to have a Magic Santa Shield between him and the guy from the temp agency wearing the fake beard?

Someday, the coronavirus will be gone and we will all get back to something that will resemble normality. That will be wonderful but I'd like to suggest that if we have to have Santa Claus Performance Artists in stores at Christmas, we keep them all behind acrylic barriers and douse them liberally with pine-scented Lysol.  COVID-19 isn't the only thing we have to worry about.

Stephen Colbert answers a lot of questions while drinking whiskey…

• Apparently, one way you can get to the head of the line for the COVID-19 vaccine is to have helped convince a lot of Americans that they didn't have to wear masks or avoid large groups of the similarly-unmasked.

• Today's potatoes are from Mullen Farms, Pasco WA. And they sure taste like it.

You'll never guess where I wound up on today's walk.

My knees have been threatening to boycott me unless I take them for more walks so yesterday, I donned the old mask and took a long hike. It included a breeze-through of Farmers Market, the local tourist attraction that is most famous as the scene of the Mel Tormé story I reposted here recently.

The events of that story occurred around 1991 and yesterday, I received a puzzling e-mail from someone asking me if I thought it could happen today. Well, not without its most important element (Mel Tormé) it couldn't. I wrote the article upon his passing in 1999 and as much as some of us might like it, I don't think he's coming back.

My correspondent must have known that so, putting that little detail aside, I wondered what could have changed that would make the incident impossible? And when I got to Farmers Market, I got my answer: They've taken all the tables and chairs away. You can buy prepared food there — which people were doing so in such volume that I'm pretty sure all those vendors are doing as well as they ever do, financially. But a new Mel Tormé could not have just been sitting there as per my tale.

And even if he could, he'd be wearing a mask that would probably have made him unrecognizable. Also, there were no young carolers in Victorian garb strolling around to sing songs of the season, masked or otherwise. So I guess it couldn't happen today.

Almost everyone I saw was masked, though about 5% seemed to not grasp the necessity of covering both nose and mouth. And one man seemed to think you're allowed to have it completely off your face, dangling around your neck, when you're walking around eating a slice of pizza.

I didn't engage with him. Later on a street corner, I found myself standing next to an older woman who had no mask on at all. I wasn't aware I was looking oddly at her but she asked me, "Why are you staring at me like that?" and I muttered something about how I wanted to remember her as she was before she caught COVID-19. She winced and started ranting loudly that it's all a hoax.

Coherence was not this among this lady's skill set so I wasn't sure just what was, in her mind, a hoax. Is it that the coronavirus is a hoax? Or if it's real, is the hoax the claim that wearing masks helps protect you and/or those around you? Or that it's a hoax that we can survive the thing so we might as well stop wearing masks? Or something else?

The movie The Night They Raided Minsky's provided me with a surprising number of lines that have crept into my own speech. One comes from when the Orthodox Jewish Father complains that his son never obeys him. He says, "You see that chair? Tell it to dance. See if it listens." Sometimes, you're in the mood to waste your breath with these people and sometimes you aren't.

When I decided I wasn't and moved on, I noticed something else that spoke loudly of the time in which we live. I'll tell you about it here tomorrow.

Some person or persons in the employ of HBO Max picked what they consider The Top 10 Bugs Bunny moments. Or maybe it's the "definitive ranking" of Bugs Bunny cartoons. It's labeled as both.

Yes, yes…we would all make different selections and some of us might not have picked nine out of ten from cartoons directed by Chuck Jones. ("Baseball Bugs" was directed by Friz Freleng.) Some of us might also have edited the clips so they didn't end just before the real funny parts. Some of us even think Warner Brothers and Chuck Jones made better cartoons than "What's Opera, Doc?"

But your list and mine would both be greeted with cries of "That's just that person's opinion" and "What does that person know?" You could sooner get Trump supporters and Biden backers on the same page on, say, any issue than you could get cartoon buffs to agree on The Best. So just enjoy this list for what it is: Not the "definitive" ranking of Bugs Bunny cartoons. As if there could be such a thing…

This is the most popular thing I've ever posted on this weblog. In fact, it's so popular that proprietors of other sites have thought nothing of just copying the whole thing and posting it on their pages, often with no mention of me and with the implication that they are the "I" in this tale. Please don't do that — to me or anyone. By all means, post a link to it but don't just appropriate it and especially don't let people think it's your work. This is the season for giving, not taking.

Yes, it's true…and I was very happy to learn from two of Mel Tormé's kids that their father had happily told them of the incident. Hearing that was my present…

I want to tell you a story…

The scene is Farmers Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"…which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close.

Farmers Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption.

During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.

For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat. I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.

Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé.

I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven't and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records." I wish I had.

Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella.

They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.

"Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.

"That's Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?"

The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No."

I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'"

Again, a "No."

I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…'"

"Oh, yes," the caroler chirped. "Is that what it's called? 'The Christmas Song?'"

"That's the name," I explained. "And that man wrote it." The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle…and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…" directly to him.

A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé…he wrote that…"

As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo." The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no…the little fat guy wants to sing."

But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing…and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first…then properly impressed.

On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways…Merry Christmas to you…" Big smiles all around.

And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight…which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause. The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.

I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did.

Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, "You really wrote that?"

He nodded. "A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that…and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down."

Then the gent I'd briefed said, "You know, you're not a bad singer." He actually said that to Mel Tormé.

Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn't the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he'd worked on that classic carol. "Well," he said. "I've actually made a few records in my day…"

"Really?" the other man asked. "How many?"

Tormé smiled and said, "Ninety."

I probably own about half of them on vinyl and/or CD. For some reason, they sound better on vinyl. (My favorite was the album he made with Buddy Rich. Go ahead. Find me a better parlay of singer and drummer. I'll wait.)

Today, as I'm reading obits, I'm reminded of that moment. And I'm impressed to remember that Mel Tormé was also an accomplished author and actor. Mostly though, I'm recalling that pre-Christmas afternoon.

I love people who do something so well that you can't conceive of it being done better. Doesn't even have to be something important: Singing, dancing, plate-spinning, mooning your neighbor's cat, whatever. There is a certain beauty to doing almost anything to perfection.

No recording exists of that chorus that Mel Tormé sang for the other diners at Farmers Market but if you never believe another word I write, trust me on this. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Kinky Boots took home the Tony Award for Best Musical in 2013. Here's a professional-type video of the West End production…but if you want to watch it, don't dawdle. The folks who put it up are taking it down some time on Sunday…

Yep, twenty years. And when I did that first post, I had no idea I'd be doing it twenty days later, let alone twenty years.

Yes, I still enjoy it. It's nice to be able to write something every day that doesn't have to pass muster with some editor or producer to fill some publishing or production need. I can just write whatever's on my mind at the moment. That's assuming anything is, which obviously is not always the case. Still, it adheres to the old saying that I just made up: If you write for money, it's important to sometimes write something that's not for money. Intentionally.

I like being in touch with 99% of those I hear from and the 1% can be easily ignored. And I like writing mostly for myself in such an unencumbered manner. I'm glad some of you seem to like reading what I write mostly for myself.

Earlier this year, I did some webcasting, mainly because it's fun to play with a new toy. I started it because of The Pandemic and I ended it because of The Election and for a few more reasons I'll discuss here one of these days. I may or may not start it up again but for now, the videos I did make are available over in this section.

In there, there's one where I interviewed my best buddy Sergio Aragonés and one where Sergio interviewed me. After the latter, a few other friends suggested they'd like to quiz me from their different POVs about different aspects of my silly existence and I said yes. When I was trying to figure out what to do on this blog the day it turned twenty, Shelly Goldstein said, "Why don't we do that thing where I interview you?" and I said yes. I say yes a lot. And then I remembered I promised Scott Shaw! that he could do that thing where he interviewed me first so we did that, too.

So posted here and nowhere else, we have two interviews — Scott interrogating me and then Shelly interrogating me, each for a little under 90 minutes. These were recorded last Tuesday and I don't expect anyone to watch all of both of them and certainly not on the same day. But they'll be posted for a while so watch them when you have absolutely nothing better to do. Or don't watch them. I won't be offended.

The one with Scott focuses more on cartoon and comics. The one with Shelly is more about TV and comedy writing in general…but there's a lot of overlap. You may notice a few sloppy edits in the Shelly one because it ran long and I chopped it down by excising about twelve minutes that I thought were more expendable than everything else or because I caught myself saying things I'd said earlier to Scott.

I guess I should write something about writing a blog for twenty years. As you might expect, it's a bothersome chore once in a while…a lot like having a pet. I like feeding cats but I don't always like having to feed the cat now. You kind of have to approach a blog with that attitude of "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to really do it."

Over the two decades, I've had a lot of friends decide they were going to try it and they'd put up one or two posts, then write me and ask me to post the link and to direct some of my readers their way. I usually write them back and say something like, "Let me know when you have twenty posts up and I will" and thereafter, I never hear from 90% of them about that. Some things in this world are just fun for two weeks or until they become an obligation.

A few other tips that I know but haven't always followed myself…

• Understand that there are parts of your life that no one could possibly care about. And yes, I know I've often violated that rule.
• There should be a reason why you post anything autobiographical.  "Because I think someone will laugh at it" or "Because I think someone will learn something from it" are perfectly good reasons. Just because it happened to you is not.
• Before you finalize a post, give it an extra read, asking yourself the question, "How will someone misinterpret this?" This is especially important if you're trying to be funny. It's possible to write something like "I think Donald Trump has been a terrible president" and to then receive an e-mail saying, "I know you were being sarcastic but I think he really has been a terrible president."
• You're not CNN or MSNBC or Fox News.  Your readers are not coming to your blog to get the latest news that gets covered on outlets like those. They might be coming to you for your insights or comments on those stories. They might also be coming for the kind of news that doesn't get covered there. I named this blog what I named it because I figured I'd be posting a lot of the kind of stuff, like obits or developments from the worlds of comics and animation that would never make the New York Times. Since I started in 2000, mainstream news has become more likely to cover, say, the passing of a guy who drew The Hulk or Aquaman or worked on Sleeping Beauty or other bulletins from those worlds. But I figure I have something to say about such matters that won't be in the Times.
• Last two points: Don't let your blog become a place that plugs a lot of things, including your own. I post sparingly about what I have out that you can purchase because I think such selling is unbecoming when done to excess.
• And you can get easily inundated, as I have been at times, by folks you know well, folks you know a little and a fair amount of total strangers asking you to post a press release and photos and artwork and Your Highest Recommendation of their latest project. Often, they'll address you like they think that's how it works: They submit it and you're required to post it…and promptly.

Thank you for however long you've been reading this blog even if this is your first (and perhaps last) time.  I could, I suppose, write this kind of stuff just for myself and that would be that.  It would certainly pay better.  But it's more fun to do when there's an audience out there.

So I'll close with a reminder that tips are gratefully accepted at this link and that I also make a smidgen of loot (without it costing you anything) when you buy at Amazon via this link.  Following this post, you should see Scott Shaw! interviewing me, followed by Shelly Goldstein interviewing me.  And later today or maybe tomorrow, I'll be posting the Mel Tormé story that is easily the most widely-read thing I've ever written.

And in case you're interested, this is Post #28,600 on this blog.

Back in this post, we touted you onto a new video release of Tex Avery Screwball Classics, Volume 2 and suggested you advance order it.  Well, I got my copy today and it's quite wonderful. If you're interested in who did the voices on it, our pal Keith Scott identifies most of 'em in this article.

Ann Reinking, who died a few days ago at the age of 71, was a great actress and a greater dancer. And maybe the best number she did that was ever captured on camera was this one from All That Jazz, a film directed, choreographed and lived by Bob Fosse. It's so full of personality and love…

A lot of folks on the web this morning seem to be panicked at second-hand reports that Donald Trump says he will not vacate the White House just because they swear in Joe Biden. None of these folks believe Trump's a man of his word. He never built 10% of the wall he said he was going to build. He never figured out how he was going to get Mexico to pay for any part of it. He never delivered the better, cheaper health plan he said he'd unveil just weeks after he took office…and so on. Why are people who don't trust this man to do what he says he's going to do so worried about him doing what he says he's going to do? Even if he actually said it?

Remember the running tally I was keeping of friends I'd lost because of their hysterical support of Trump? I may have to start one for ex-friends who still insist that the coronavirus is mostly hype and wearing a mask is a sign of weakness and/or being stupid enough to believe "authorities" who made it all up.

Getting back to friends I lost because of Trump: One of them called the other day to ask if we could be friends again. He says he never thought D.J.T. was an honest man. He just liked the idea of the country going where Trump claimed he wanted to take it. Eventually, the movement got a bit too skinheaded for him, plus there were other issues. Our friendship has not fully resumed but I think it's back and on supervised probation.

There's some awful, destructive weather out there and more is forecast. A lot of us are waiting for The Trump Issue to go away and for The Pandemic Issue to go away. And one way we'll know when they have is that someone in power will mention the words "Climate Change" once more.

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I completed my Christmas shopping weeks ago with about ten minutes on Amazon, half of that spent ordering things for me. I only had a few folks to buy for and most of 'em were the kind of friends where we exchange gifts whenever we feel like it. I like gifting when it doesn't feel the least bit obligatory.

And I'm hoping this New Year's Eve will be the safest and sanest ever because everyone will stay home and not go out. But you just know there will be lots of super-spreader celebrations. Someone needs to design an emoji that shakes its head in despair and makes an expression that says, "I can't believe how stupid some people can be."

Tune in this site tomorrow for our big 20th Anniversary Celebration. If you have a colorful paper hat around, feel free to wear it! Noisemakers are also permitted as long as you make all the noise where you are and don't put it in an MP3 and send it to me.