I'm going to stop quoting these Trumpish e-mails asking me for money but boy, am I getting a lot of them. I've received seven total today (so far) from "Jared Kushner" selling his book, three from "Donald J. Trump" offering me some sort of golf flag, one from "Kimberly Guilfoyle" demanding to know why I haven't participated in something called "President Trump's Official 2022 Congressional District Focus Group," one each from "Newt Gingrich" and "Sarah Huckabee Sanders" and a couple with no proper name affixed.

They're all obviously written by the same person and they all have the same message: America is on the brink of total destruction unless you send us money. Apparently, the real people don't care what someone signs their name to. It reminds me of the Peter Popoffs and other phony preachers who sell the notion that whatever illness or disability you have, it can be cured by sending them cash…and lots of it.

None of these, by the way, are going to my regular e-mail account. I set one up a few years ago for when I wanted to read something on some site that demanded a sign-up and I figured I'd get tons o' spam from them if I did…and I did. I can just block donaldjtrump.com and stop getting these and I think I will. And should have long ago.

Wanna see something I think you'll find fascinating? Have you got 85 minutes? That's about how long it'll take you to watch The Life of Reilly, a one-man show that has been put up on YouTube in 28 parts.

The one man is Charles Nelson Reilly…and if you only know him as that guy who was once on every friggin' game show, you're in for a surprise. Back in 2004, he toured for a while — and dummy me managed to somehow miss — this show about his life. It's a life that involved growing up in the most dysfunctional of families, coping with "being different" (i.e., gay) and trying to become an actor.

At one point, an executive at NBC told him he would never be allowed on television because he was "queer." Reilly then went on to build a career on the stage, eventually scoring an astounding Broadway trifecta: The first three shows he was in on Broadway were Bye Bye Birdie (big hit), How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying (bigger hit) and Hello, Dolly! (biggest hit).

That led to TV and suddenly, he was everywhere and…well, that's just part of his story. The one-man show was filmed and its makers have chopped it up into segments running two to five minutes each but you can watch them, one after the other, at this link.

I suggest you not start watching until you're ready to commit to the whole thing. And yes, I've recommended parts of this before but I decided it was time to recommend the whole thing. Prepare for a lot of chilling tragedies, especially when you get to Part 13.

"Jared Kushner" (whoever handles this kind of thing) has now sent me about fifteen e-mails very much like this one including four yesterday…

Mark,

My brand-new memoir is ready.

I wrote a book called, Breaking History: A White House Memoir, and I'm eager for an incredible Patriot like you to read it.

In my book, I tell the American People the truth about President Trump's White House and everything that happened during his America First Presidency.

The Fake News, like The New York Times, is trying to stop people from reading it. In fact, they just reviewed my book and said it was terrible and poorly written. If I had to say why The New York Times doesn't want you to read this book, it's because it disproves all the different things that they were going crazy about in their editorial pages.

I believe they called on me to resign several times, and they said my work in the Middle East was foolish and going to cause wars…Well, we got six peace deals done. It's obvious that The New York Times wants you to believe that President Trump was incompetent and that we didn't get things done, but the results are just totally contrary to what they wrote.

All of the reasons above and more are why you need to read my new book, Mark. We cannot allow the fake news filter to silence us any longer.

Remember, because you've always had President Trump's back and have supported our family, I want to personally give you a copy of my brand-new book that I signed just for you.

I personally set aside a signed copy of my new book for you. I can't wait for you to read it and discover the truth about President Trump's White House.

Will you claim your copy today?

Again, just give $75 today to claim your signed copy of my new book, Breaking History: A White House Memoir.

Thank you,

Jared Kushner

Kind of odd that all these e-mails I receive from Donald J. Trump, Kimberly Guilfoyle and now Jared Kushner — as well as many that bear no name — all sound like they're written by the same person and have the same typography and use of boldface and italics. These folks are all certain that I have been a big Trump supporter who has sent him money in the past. If they're that wrong about me, how can I trust them about anything else?

Well, that's their fund-raising pitch. Here's mine — and unlike them, I'm going to stop mine as soon as I hit a certain point which will probably be in the coming week…

I have an iPhone X that works fine except for two things. One is that if you leave a voicemail for me, it may not show up on my phone for four or five hours and it arrives with no audible alert. I just find it there, often way too late to return the call. The folks at Apple say this is a problem that can only be solved by my cell service provider and my cell service provider says this is a problem that can only be solved by Apple.

The other problem is that if someone sends me a text message, I'd like to have my phone chime or bing or make whatever sound I have it set to play whenever one arrives. And it only does this once in a rare while.

Last week, I was at the Genius Bar at my local Apple Store finding out that, as expected, what it would cost to make my non-functioning iPad function again was not that much less than what it would cost to purchase a new one. (I had already been told that by a trusted independent fixer of iPads who also said, "You have an antique. It might take me weeks to get the necessary parts. Take it to the Apple Store.")

While I was there, I told my assigned Genius about my iPhone problems. He told me the voicemail problem could only be solved by my cell service provider. And he checked all the settings and couldn't figure out why I wasn't hearing a tone of some kind with every text message arrival. Because he didn't know what else to do, he gave my phone's speakers — and while he was at it, microphone — a thorough cleaning and he did improve the sound. But I still usually near nothing when a text arrives.

I've Googled all the online info there seems to be that one can Google to find out about this problem so I'm not asking anyone here to do that for me. The Genius (of course) suggested the same solution I used for my iPad problem, which was to just buy a new one. I don't want to do that. Does anyone here have any other thoughts? Aside from switching to Android?

Every so often, I like to watch one of those police chase videos. Call it a guilty pleasure or some sort of primal curiosity or just a quick thrill ride. Almost always, they put me in awe of the police officers involved — their skill, their cool, their professionalism. They ain't all like that but I respect the hell out of those who are.

This video runs close to thirteen minutes. If you're going to watch it, watch the entire thing and don't watch it on a tiny screen. It's a member of the Macomb County Sheriff's Office in Macomb County, Michigan at the wheel, displaying amazing skill and bravery and — I'll use the word again — professionalism. And unlike most of the police chases one sees on Los Angeles TV, I don't think the officer had a helicopter guiding him or watching for hazards. Warning: The language gets pretty rough near the end.

• You know, not being able to think of anything amusing to post on Twitter reminds me of a funny story…

Bob Newhart just turned 93 years old. Here's a recent profile of him that was done when he was much younger man of 92 years and 11 months.

A person who has been sending me anti-vaxx propaganda throughout The Pandemic sent me an utterly unsourced claim that Britain's Queen Elizabeth II died because she was given a COVID vaccination. Yes, because why else would a 96-year-old woman die? I mean, it's not like anyone else of advanced age has died from getting the disease.

I have no idea if she even got a shot but it seems to me that it might be a good idea for anyone of any age whose job description basically was to go around and meet people.

And the eight minutes I spent reading his message, thinking about it and writing this may be the longest span of my life I've spent thinking about royalty in this modern era. I don't get why it exists apart from sheer tradition. I don't get why Brits go along with it or keep the custom afloat. I understand that is possible to have respect and affection for certain people but I felt that way about my grandmother.

The Internet Era has created people who were famous for being famous. It's also created people who were famous for being famous for being famous and even a few who were famous for being famous for being famous for being famous for…well, I've lost track. The point is there are human beings who are celebrities because someone just decided they'd be regarded as celebrities. And in these times, that's all "royalty" is.

I wish no one ill. I cheer no one's passing. I just don't get why this exists in the world today.

Yesterday, I mentioned the now-defunct Hughes Market chain in Southern California and I thought you might like to hear the story of how it was founded…

In 1948, Aviation Mogul Howard Hughes took control of RKO Studios. He was interested in making movies but he was more interested in making money…and he was especially interested in making starlets. Within a few years, he had a number of them being "kept" in scattered apartments in the West Hollywood area, each waiting for whenever the Bashful Billionaire craved the pleasure of her company.

Hughes paid their rent and the ladies would often hit him up — with greater and greater frequency and for larger and larger amounts — for "grocery money." Hughes began to suspect that the money was being spent on things other than trips to the market. Some of them might even have been spending it on male friends, he feared. He decided he had to do something about it.

Mr. Hughes was the kind of guy who never bought a nineteen-cent fly swatter when he could have acquired or opened a multi-million-dollar extermination company. His solution to the problem of escalating demands for grocery money was to open a market which, of course, he named Hughes Market. His various mistresses had unlimited charge accounts there but he would no longer give them cash.

That solved that problem but there was an unexpected bonus for Howard R. Hughes. The market was very profitable so he opened another and another…and soon there were Hughes Markets all over Southern California until the nineties. Then through a complex series of acquisitions and mergers, the stores all closed or turned into Ralphs Markets.

Isn't that a great story? There's not a shred of truth in it but isn't it a great story?

The Hughes Market chain was actually started by a man named Joseph Hughes — no relation to Howard. It was later run by members of his family, not one of whom was even distantly related to Howard. That's the actual story but for years, I heard the bogus one about Howard Hughes starting the chain. Yes, even before the Internet became a part of all our lives, there were phony stories and bad information in this world.

Here's another true story involving a Hughes Market. As I've said here, I used to like to shop at the one at Beverly and Doheny at 1 or 2:00 in the morning or even later. There's now a Ralphs there and it closes at 1 AM and it's no fun. It's just a place to buy Minute Rice. But the old Hughes there was open all night and there was a bit of a party atmosphere after about 2 AM.

They had a crew of workers who'd start around that hour, restocking all the shelves and cleaning and neatening things up for next day shoppers. The usual sedate music that was played over the market's speakers would be turned off and someone had a huge portable radio that would be blasting rock music you could hear throughout the store. Everyone who worked there was very friendly and happy and those of us who stopped in to buy groceries would get into the spirit. You even saw shoppers dancing in the aisles. I liked doing my marketing there then.

One morning — it may have been around 3 AM — I was in there putting cans in my cart and there were two amazing young ladies shopping as well. They were loud and laughing and more than a little drunk and they were stunningly gorgeous due to hair (probably wigs) and make-up (a lot of it) and tight dresses that, as they say, left little to the imagination. And they both had matching bodies that had to have been surgically enhanced to a ridiculous degree.  They looked like blow-up sex dolls come to life.

Easy assumption: They were strippers, probably from that strip club a few blocks away on La Cienega. You didn't have to be named Sherlock to arrive at that deduction. Oh — and each had a huge, bulging handbag. Remember that fact.

Not my type. I like real and I don't like drunk. In fact, there are very few things I find less attractive in this world than drunk. But it was hard not to pay attention to them and what they were doing. Each had a shopping cart and it almost looked like they were having a contest: Which of them could cram more of the store into their cart?

It was like they were buying out the place. I don't know if I heard one of them say this — like I said, they were very loud — or if I imagined it…but the scenario seemed to be that they were moving into a new apartment together and they were stocking it with everything they might want to eat during the next twenty years or so.

Their carts were so full of groceries and piled so high that items kept spilling out and they'd pick them up and squeeze them back in. I watched a little of this with some amusement until an urgent thought hit me: I must get to the checkout counter before them.

At this hour, there was only one and it was only open when someone wanted to check out. One of the folks stocking shelves would stop stocking to man the checkout counter for as long as necessary. Judging by the ladies' carts, a solid half-hour would be necessary. At least.

I stopped watching the ladies and I began rushing about, grabbing the last few items I needed and heading for the checkout…

…and I got there seconds too late. With audible gasps of effort, they were shoving those overstuffed shopping carts up to the open cash register. I asked if it was possible to open another and the guy who was starting on their carts said, "Sorry! I'm the only one here tonight who's allowed to work the register and only one is operating." So I'd have to wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait some more.

The two giggling drunk ladies looked less and less attractive as I waited with my twelve items while they were checked out with maybe a hundred each. This was in days before the automatic scanners we have these days. These days, the checker just passes an item over a glass and something goes boop and the price registers on the register.  Sometimes, it's even the right price.

But this checker had to enter each purchase by hand and often, he had to stop and look up a price or yell something like, "Harry!  Go find out what the 14 ounce box of Froot Loops costs!"  Those ladies did like their Froot Loops.

Don't start feeling as impatient as I did that morning, standing there and waiting.  We're almost to the punchline.

Finally, the contents of both carts had been checked through and a guy who came over to bag everything was almost finished stuffing it all into grocery bags filling what were now five or six carts.  The total on the register was close to a thousand dollars.  This was in the mid-eighties.  It would be way more than twice that today.

Ah, I foolishly thought.  They just have to pay so I should be out of here in three minutes…

And then the ladies dashed my hopes of getting home before dawn and they also confirmed my hunch that they were strippers.  They opened those huge purses of theirs and began hauling out and counting out their money.  They were paying in slightly-damp one-dollar bills.

Our friend Jimmy Brogan dropped me a note that he was pleased I'd featured that clip of him performing here so here's another. Again, there's no date on the video but someone in the audience mentions managing the Stage Deli in Century City. That place opened there around 1988 and didn't last for very long so the video is of that time period.

Once again, you'll see how Jimmy always has a joke no matter how the folks in his audience respond to his questions. I've probably seen this guy perform three dozen times and I've never seen him at a loss for words.

Quick story: Years ago, I liked to do my grocery shopping around 1 AM at an Open-All-Night Hughes Market at Doheny and Beverly, right across from Chasen's Restaurant. Chasen's is gone and so are all the Hughes Markets but I'd sometimes run into Jimmy Brogan there. He was always on his way to Jay Leno's house because Jay liked to gather some writers at that hour and work on monologue material.  Wanna guess why Jimmy was stopping in at the market on his way to work?

Because as he mentions in this video, he's a vegetarian.  And a guy who only eats vegetables could starve to death in Jay's house, that's why…

Several perceptive readers of this site have deduced that the Jimmy Brogan video I posted last night (this one) must be from around 1981. The clue I missed was that someone in the audience mentioned attending a test screening of the TV series, Mr. Merlin. Mr. Merlin was on in 1981.

Several others wrote to say words to the effect of: "If you're going to mention long-running Broadway shows, you should at least give a nod to The Fantasticks, which was an Off-Broadway show that ran a brief 42 years and had 17,162 performances." Consider The Fantasticks nodded.

Sticking with the post about long-running shows, a few folks wrote to ask how many of the Top 20 I saw. Well, I saw the revival of Chicago on Broadway. Even sat next to Julie Newmar who happened to be seeing it that night. I also saw The Lion King there (as you know) and Beauty and the Beast and Rent and Miss Saigon (twice!) and 42nd Street, all the original productions on Broadway. I saw national touring companies of the following shows out here: Wicked, A Chorus Line and Jersey Boys. And I've seen a couple of the other shows (like Mamma Mia!) in productions that were probably not close replicas of what played on Broadway.

I was momentarily puzzled on this list when I came to Grease because I have seen Grease in a Broadway theater, as well as a number of far-removed-from-Broadway productions. But Grease has been mounted for Broadway three times — 1972, 1994 and 2007 — and I didn't know which one of the three was the one that holds down Spot #16 on the list of longest-running shows. Turns out it was the first one…which I didn't see. The original production of 42nd Street was the first Broadway musical I saw at a Broadway theater.

Revivals do sometimes run longer than the originals, the best example being Chicago. The original production was a hit running 936 performances. The current revival opened in 1996 and is still running with more than ten times as many performances. Since The Phantom of the Opera is considered a British production, the revival of Chicago is therefore the longest-running American musical in Broadway history. Which proves all you have to do in life is give 'em the old razzle-dazzle.

Along with Harry O, which I've written more than enough about here, another crime-type TV show I liked was Police Story, which went on NBC in 1973. It stayed on for a number of years, sometimes as a weekly series and sometimes as specials. It was an anthology with a few recurring characters. Basically, it was a different story every week about a different police officer of some kind working in Los Angeles.

It was, as the titles told us, "Created by Joseph Wambaugh," Mr. Wambaugh was a former police officer who became a best-selling author of books about his profession, both fiction and non-fiction. I remember wondering back in '73 just what he had "created" in creating this show.  Do you get a creator credit for saying, "Hey, let's do a series that's about a different cop every week"? I guess you do — and as I got more into the TV business and understood more about writing for the medium, I realized Wambaugh probably had a lot to do with setting the tone of the show and its commitment to not sensationalize and to depict police work with a then-unprecedented level of accuracy.

And there was another credit I wondered about. There was an episode that starred Hugh O'Brian and Sue Ane Langdon. I was, then as now, a careful watcher of credits but back then, I wasn't watching on a VCR or TiVo. I couldn't freeze-frame or rewind…and in that episode's opening credits, I saw something for two seconds which seemed odd to me. But I couldn't go back and I failed to catch the episode in reruns so I just forgot about it.

Well, I just stumbled across it on YouTube. Here is a screengrab of that odd title card that caught my eye when as a mere lad of 21 in 1973, I noticed this…

How the heck did that get on the air?

Back here, I linked you to an article by Joe Conason explaining that in The Great Hillary Clinton E-Mail Scandal, the total number of e-mails that turned out to be marked "classified" was zero. So I feel I should also link you to a fact-check by Glenn Kessler who goes into great detail on the matter. The bottom line seems to be that she did things wrong but they turned out to be minor whereas he did some things wrong that sound pretty major. (Actually, the bottom lines seem to be to be that she cooperated fully with the investigation and that the Trump Administration could not muster up enough of a case to formally charge her. But read it for yourself.)

Some nice, efficient people with PayPal were nice and efficient enough to lift the hold on my account with them in record time. It is once again possible for you to donate bucks towards both the short and long term health of this blog.

And again, my thanks to those of you who've already sent money. When I see a name I recognize, I smile because…well, it's because I know that person, at least somewhat, and it makes me happy they think this blog is of value to them. And when I see a name I don't recognize, I smile because I have — I can only assume — pleased a total stranger. There are more in the second category than I expected.

To anyone who can't spare the dough right now: It's okay. Keep on reading. Donate later if/when you can…or don't. I'd hate to think anyone is sending money they can't afford.