This ran here on December 26, 2014. About time for a rerun…

That, believe it or not, is me and as you can see, I'm reading a Little Golden Book of Frosty the Snowman. I don't know when the book was issued but I was issued in 1952.

I have a vague recollection of this book and of being mystified by the whole concept of snow. We lived in Los Angeles and I did not see snow in person until I was around eleven. One Winter afternoon, feeling I should experience it, my parents dressed me in my warmest clothing and my father drove us up to the mountains, a few hours from L.A.

I was not particularly impressed with the stuff. What was around had fallen a few days earlier and it was more like crushed ice by then…and for the most part, not all that clean. I remember trying to make a small snowman and realizing within seconds that all those Christmas specials had deceived me as to how simple that was. I'd somehow expected something more like cold, firm mashed potatoes.  My folks assured me it was easier right after the snow had fallen but I still felt misled.  On TV, it always looked like white Play-Doh.

We planned to spend the whole afternoon in this mountain area and a friend had loaned me a sled which we brought along in the trunk. My father hauled it out and placed it atop a small incline so I could lie down on it and sled my way down the incline. I did, found it unremarkable and then turned to my parents and asked, "Can we go home now?"  We ate lunch and then did.

Maybe if I'd had some friends along to lob snowballs at or something, I'd have enjoyed the snow more but I decided I could live without it. Matter of fact, on the drive back, I thanked my parents for moving to Southern California before I was born.

Yes, yes…I understand snow can create beautiful, picture postcard scenery around you. So can a clear, sunny day and no one has to shovel it.

Years later in traveling, I occasionally found myself surrounded by snow for a few days at a time. There was one year in New York when a major, airport-closing blizzard hit the day I was scheduled to leave so I had to stay. Fortunately, I had the right clothes along and was at the Sherry-Netherland Hotel with someone else paying. It was fascinating to watch how New Yorkers and their city employees handled it but that was the only upside of the whole experience.

Over that weekend alone, I had enough of snow to last anyone a lifetime. I also experienced snow once when I was in Detroit, once while I was attending my grandmother's funeral in Hartford, a couple of times in Muncie and even once — for about twenty minutes — in Las Vegas.

Snow in Vegas was interesting because there were tourists in Hawaiian shirts, sandals and shorts who treated it like, "Oh, look what the hotels here arranged for our amusement!" As a phenomenon of nature, it seemed about as credible as the volcano that used to go off hourly outside The Mirage. And what it mainly did was to force people off The Strip and into the nearest buildings, which were almost all casinos. So the brief snowstorm probably boosted profits at the craps tables and I think I saw one hooker in a parka.  (It's getting harder to identify the hookers in Vegas not because they don't look like hookers but because everyone else does.)

I'm not knocking where you live because it snows there…and I'm sure you can come up with reasons aplenty why you'd rather live there than where I do. Fine.  I'll even admit I might have more affection for it if it had been part of my childhood. I just don't like snow…not as much as I don't like cole slaw but I don't like snow. If you want to change my mind, arrange for it to be more like white Play-Doh. That might make it fun.

I've run this several times before and folks keep asking for it…

Christmas was never that big deal in our house, at least not after I hit age 10 or so. This was not because we were mostly Jewish. We observed every holiday we could find. If we'd known what it was, we would have celebrated Kwanzaa…but like all our holidays, with great restraint. We just never made that much fuss about any day.

My Uncle Aaron had been in the business of manufacturing store window displays and he gave us crates of leftover Christmas ornaments. So each year when I was a kid, we bought and decorated a tree, in part because we had twenty cases of decorations in the garage and it seemed like a shame to not put some of them to use. Eventually though, it began to feel more like an annual obligation than a pleasure…so we gave all the balls and snowflakes and garlands to a local charity and I'm sure the holiday baubles thereafter yielded more joy for more people than they'd ever given us. By the time I hit my teen years, we'd managed to whittle Christmas down to a family dinner and a brief exchange of presents.

I had friends who somehow managed to devote most of every December to Christmas…and often, it required a running start commencing shortly after Halloween. For them, the yuletide seemed to come with great excitement but also with all manner of stress factors relating to buying gifts, decorating homes, throwing parties and consorting with relatives who fell into the category of "People You'd Avoid At All Costs If They Weren't Family." So all the merriment was accompanied by a lot of angst and expense. A classmate once told me his father had found it necessary to arrange a bank loan that year just so he could afford a proper Christmas. That didn't sound like a holly jolly time to me.

We had none of that. No one felt pressure. No one went into debt. Everyone would somehow convey a few suggestions as to what they might like as a gift, and always an affordable one. That meant no one had to agonize too much to decide what to buy…and no one wasted their money on something the recipient didn't want or would never use or wear.

It all worked well but for a long time, I saw the huge productions that others made of Christmas and felt like I was missing out on something. Christmas was a special day but it wasn't as special to us as it seemed to be to others. I was well into my twenties when I figured out what was going on there. I was then going with a lady who dragged me into her family Christmas arrangements that year. Hours…days…whole weeks were spent planning the parties, the dinners, the gatherings. She spent cash she didn't have to buy gifts and purchase a new party-going outfit for herself…and the decorating took twice as long as Michelangelo spent painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

It seemed to me more like a chore than a celebration, and one night I asked her why she went to so much trouble. She said, "Christmas is important. When I was a kid, It was the one time of the year when we all got along…or came close to getting along."

There it was. She'd come from a large and dysfunctional family. Siblings were forever fighting. Parents drank and split up and got back together and screamed a lot and separated again. There was much yelling and occasional violence…

…but not as much at Christmas. Christmas was when they managed to put most of that aside. Christmas was when they generally managed to act the way they should have acted all year. That was why, when it came around, they made so much of it.

We never had to declare a holiday cease-fire in my family. We always got along. There was very little arguing between my parents or between them and me, and what little occurred never lasted long. I never had fights with brothers or sisters because I never had brothers or sisters. And my folks and I were known to give each other gifts for no special occasion and to occasionally get the whole (small) local family together for a big meal. So Christmas wasn't that much different from the way we lived all year.

A year or two ago, I told a friend all of the above and his reaction was on the order of, "Gee, too bad for you." Because in his household, Christmas was wondrous and festive and the source of most of his happy childhood memories. I never saw it that way. I have loads of happy childhood memories. They were just no more likely to occur around Christmas than at any other time…and I liked it that way. I mean, you can have Christmas once a year or you can have it 365 times a year. Peace on Earth, good will towards men doesn't have to stop later tonight and you can even add women to the mix.

Reclaiming the top spot this year is what resulted when cartoonist Joshua Held took The Drifters' recording of "White Christmas" and animated to it. The sheer simplicity of the design and the fact that he didn't muck it up with "clever" visuals that would have distracted from the record make this a winner in my book…

If I were Joe Biden, I would issue the following statement…

"If the courts rule that the President of the United States is immune from prosecution, I'm going to go out and start robbing liquor stores."

Every year when I do my little countdown here, this is either #1 or #2. This year, according to the sophisticated and infallible system I use to rank the videos, it's #2. This was designed by the cartoonist R.O. Blechman for a station break for CBS back in 1966 and you can read all about the man at his website but it may be enough to just know that he's the man who gave us this…

Yesterday here, we discussed and you probably also listened to Stan Freberg's 1958 record of "Green Christmas." As noted, it was a controversial record at the time…but one, I think, which ultimately drew enough praise to be considered something of a masterwork. Michael Kilgore, an avid reader of this site, did a little legwork on his keyboard and located the review that the trade magazine Billboard published at the time. Here it is…

Talk about missing the point…

This ran here ten years ago. Time to run it again…

Brian Wong wrote to ask me what I could remember about a Flintstones Christmas comic I wrote back in 1977. There's not a lot there to remember, I'm afraid. I was writing comics for Chase Craig, who was my editor back when I worked for Western Publishing on Gold Key Comics. Chase had retired and then had come out of retirement to edit a line of comics for Hanna-Barbera which were published by Marvel. We were all working for H-B, not Marvel, on conventional-sized funnybooks.

Then one day in mid-August, Chase called me in and said, approximately, "Someone at Marvel just decided they want to put out a tabloid comic for this Christmas. It's got to be 48 pages and feature all the Hanna-Barbera characters in some sort of storyline that ties them all together but they want it to be mainly a Flintstones story."

I was never fond of intermingling the talking human characters (Flintstones, Jetsons) with the talking animal characters (Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear) but by then, I'd already learned a basic truth: When a company owns multiple properties and thinks there's a buck to be made by crossing them over, they cross over. End of discussion. Save your breath and don't bother arguing that the worlds do not quite intersect and that the mythology of each is diminished a little by homogenizing environments down to be compatible with one another. One of these days, someone at Disney will decide that the public is dying for a movie in which Darth Vader and The Hulk team up to battle Donald Duck. And it won't matter one bit that, uh, maybe those folks dwell in separate realities.

Actually, there was no time to even think about such things because the Flintstones comic had an impossibly-tight deadline. Chase, who had a fiendish but friendly glee in sending me off to write scripts overnight, sent me off to write a script almost overnight. I did the first 24 pages that night and the second 24 pages the next day. A few years later during a July heat wave, Joe Barbera asked me to write a prime-time Yogi Bear Christmas TV special with much the same all-star cast, also in two days. So this job was a good rehearsal for that job.

I wrote the comic in chapters — a Yogi Bear chapter, a Quick Draw McGraw chapter, etc. — so we could have different artists working simultaneously on different parts. As fortune would have it: When I went in to turn in the first 24 pages, Chase and I were discussing who we'd get to draw those chapters when Kay Wright poked his head in. Karran "Kay" Wright was a veteran comic book artist and animator who had worked for Chase back at Gold Key. He drew, among hundreds of comics, the Junior Woodchucks stories that Carl Barks wrote in semi-retirement.

He had recently been working as a producer for Hanna-Barbera and that very day, he had been laid off. He asked Chase, "You got any work?" Chase grinned and said, "Have I got work!" Kay was ideal for the assignment and he wound up drawing the entire book except for the Jetsons chapter which was drawn (uncredited) by Tony Strobl with inking by Joe Prince. Tony and Joe were other artists Chase had hired at Gold Key. Tony drew the Jetsons comics published in the sixties back when the TV show was first on, and he drew the best Donald Duck comics that Chase edited that were not drawn by Carl Barks.

We needed an inker for Kay's many pages and I suggested my friend, Scott Shaw!, who was just breaking into professional comics. He was good and he knew the H-B characters better than anyone except, of course, me. Soon after, I happened to be talking to another friend, Mike Royer, and he mentioned that he had a light work schedule at the moment so I persuaded him to letter the story. Our regular colorist for the H-B comics, Carl Gafford, colored it in, as I recall, record time. Anyway, it all got to press a day or two before it had to be printed.

Given the deadline, it's amazing that it got done at all, let alone that it turned out okay. At least, of the several hundred comic books I've written, it's probably in the Top Ten of those that people ask me about or want me to sign. Since so many are never mentioned at all, I figure we had to have done something right. It also sold pretty well in this country and even better in others. And that's all I remember about it except for this…

The day he sent The Flintstones Christmas Party off to press, Chase and I went out to lunch to celebrate. I said, "Well, at least that's over." He said, "Well, that one is but they called this morning and they want Yogi Bear's Easter Parade. I'll expect a script by the day after tomorrow."

New to our countdown this year is Stan Freberg's "Green Christmas." I was pleased to know and work with Stan…one of those awesome occurrences in one's life when you find yourself alongside a boyhood hero. And this record also included another boyhood hero of fine who became a friend and co-worker, Daws Butler. In the above photo, Stan's the guy with his feet up and Daws is at top right.  (The others are Peggy Taylor, June Foray and Peter Leeds. This was from Stan's 1957 radio show.)

In this record, which caused much controversy when it came out in 1958, Stan plays Scrooge and Daws is Bob Cratchit.  And here's a photo of Du-Par's Restaurant which was (though no longer is) located on Vine Street in Hollywood, just North of the world-famous intersection of Hollywood & Vine.  Du-Par's was once a proud chain of coffee shops all over Southern California but now there's just one left in Los Angeles. It's in the famous Farmers Market near where CBS is now but won't be for much longer….

Now, you may be wondering why the heck is Evanier putting up a photo of an old restaurant in a post about a Stan Freberg record? Well, there's a reason and I'll tell it to you after we all listen to that Stan Freberg record…

That's a great record, isn't it? Well, not everyone thought so. For the rest of the story, I'm just going to quote from Wikipedia…

At first, Capitol Records refused to release the record. Lloyd Dunn, the president of Capitol, told Freberg the record was offensive to everybody in advertising, and predicted that Freberg would never work in advertising again. Freberg responded with his intent to end his entire recording contract with Capitol. He spoke to a contact at Verve Records, and the company offered to release the record without even hearing it. Faced with this, Capitol finally decided to release it but provided no publicity at all.

The record was attacked in advertising trade magazines. It was played only twice in New York by one disc jockey, and the station's sales department threatened to have him fired if he played it again. George Carlin once told Freberg that he was almost fired from a DJ job in Shreveport, Louisiana for playing the record repeatedly. He told his boss it was "the most moral record ever made."

KMPC in Los Angeles played the record, but some advertisers required that their ads be scheduled more than fifteen minutes away from it. An editorial in the Los Angeles Times condemned it, but the author later admitted he had not listened to it. Similarly, Robert Wood, the station manager of KNXT-TV in Los Angeles (later president of CBS), cancelled a TV interview with Freberg because the record was "sacrilegious" and he did not need to hear it because he had read about it. KRLA, Pasadena (Freberg's hometown) showed it as reaching #3 in popularity in their printed survey. It is unclear whether this was based on sales or airplay.

Station KFWB, then known as "Color Radio Channel 98", where the record reached No. 3 on 3 January 1959, also kept on playing it. KFI, then the Earl C. Anthony station, played it a few times and then discontinued it, as did many other stations because of a negative reaction from the advertising community.

But of course, the rest of the story is that Freberg later got loads of work in advertising, including a campaign for Coca-Cola, which was a sponsor mentioned in the record. As Stan said, advertising people never hold a grudge when there's money to be made…and he thought that the Christmas after "Green Christmas" came out, some advertisers seemed a bit more cautious about mounting the kinds of campaigns that the record was all about.

And thank you for patiently waiting for the explanation about the photo of Du-Par's Restaurant. Here it is. If you scroll back up to the picture, you'll see the Capitol Records Building in the background. It's still there and it's where Stan recorded just about all his records including "Green Christmas." During that recording session, Stan got the idea for the cash register sound effects at the end. Capitol Records made tons of money but they didn't have a cash register on the premises. They didn't even have the recorded sound effect of a cash register.

So Stan walked down the block to Du-Par's where he talked the manager into loaning him their cash register for a few minutes. The manager, according to Stan, was a Freberg fan and he agreed. They took all the cash out of the register, leaving $3.00 in coins that were needed to make the proper sounds. Stan said that he personally carried the cash register to the recording studio and after they got the sounds they wanted, he carried it back to Du-Par's and waited while the manager counted the change to make sure it had been all returned. Great story, huh?

Brian Dreger has a quick question and I have a quick answer…

Do you see anything significant happening when the character Mickey Mouse finally enters the public domain?

Yes. We'll have a lot of really crappy Mickey Mouse porn comics and videos.

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.

Coming in this year at #4 is Gayla Peevey singing her big hit record from 1953, "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas." If this holiday season you're someplace where carolers and carolling and they're taking requests, see if they know this one. I always ask for it and they usually know it and love singing it.  Better than falalalalaing all night…

Hanging in there at #5 this year is one of the best-selling Christmas songs of all time…"The Chipmunk Song" (aka "Christmas, Don't Be Late") written and performed by Ross Bagdasarian (aka David Seville). It was released on December 1, 1958 and shot to #1 in — no pun intended — record time. Here's Mr. Seville-Bagdasrian lip-syncing to the record on The Ed Sullivan Show and after you watch this, stay tuned for a two-for-one…

And here's a more modern representation of the song by a group called VoicePlay…

Here's a bonus video which I guess qualifies as a Christmas song but only barely. It was performed at a Christmas party in the Broadway musical, Promises, Promises — book by Neil Simon based on the Billy Wilder film, The Apartment… songs by Hal David and Burt Bacharach…choreography by Michael Bennett. The show opened in New York on December 1, 1968 and closed on January 1, 1972 for a total of 1,281 performances.

This number — "Turkey Lurkey Time" — joined a long line of song/dance numbers in musicals wherein employees at some company perform at an office party and in so doing, entertain but in no way advance the story. Every musical that could possibly have such a number seemed to have one after the success of "Steam Heat" in Pajama Game. I've heard that some choreographers demanded it as a condition of taking the job.

"Turkey Lurkey Time" is performed by the actresses playing Miss Polanski of Accounts Receivable, Miss Wong of Mimeograph and Miss Della Hoya of Petty Cash. In the original production, Miss Polanski was played by Margo Sappington (who later got famous in Oh! Calcutta!), Miss Wong was played by Baayork Lee (who later got famous in A Chorus Line) and Miss Della Hoya was played by Donna McKechnie (who also later got famous in A Chorus Line). A Chorus Line, I don't have to remind you, was directed by the choreographer of this number.

This video is from The Ed Sullivan Show for February 8, 1970 by which time Miss Polanski was being played by Barbara Alston, Miss Wong was still being played by Baayork Lee and Miss Della Hoya was being played by Julie Stites. The gentleman on the desk introducing them is Paul Reed who played the Police Chief on Car 54, Where Are You?. Since no microphones are anywhere in evidence, I conclude they're lip-syncing and dancing to a pre-recorded track — but it's a great number…

This whole matter of Trump being taken off the Colorado primary ballot has me in a tizzy…not that the country can't survive me being in a tizzy. It always has and always will. But it's times like this I feel glad that I don't absolutely have to have an opinion on this.

I'm reading learned legal scholars explaining why it absolutely was decided according to the law while other learned legal scholars insist it wasn't. And there are kind of two different questions here: Is it legal? and Is it a good thing? Those two questions do not necessarily have the same answer and it's real easy to confuse one with the other.

I think I more or less agree with Jonathan Chait who says, "To deny the voters the chance to elect the candidate of their choice is a Rubicon-crossing event for the judiciary. It would be seen forever by tens of millions of Americans as a negation of democracy."

And I think I more or less agree with Josh Marshall. You may need a subscription to read him but he says, "I'm equivocal about the whole idea. Trump is going to win or lose the old-fashioned way — based on the votes. I have no time to be distracted by strategies to short circuit that electoral reckoning.

And I think we oughta acknowledge that Aaron Blake is right: "Trump has repeatedly pushed the idea that a candidate's eligibility for president shouldn't be left up to voters. The candidate who a court now says is constitutionally ineligible to serve as president once showed great interest in having people he disagreed with disqualified under the Constitution's standards."

So I dunno. It seems unlikely that Trump could win Colorado's electoral votes, on or off the ballot. Still, Colorado's actions, if upheld, might lead to him being kicked off ballots in swing states. It also seems unlikely the Supreme Court he stacked will deliver a decision that displeases the guy. I don't know what will get decided. I'm just happy I'm not one of the ones who'll have to decide it.

There are things I like and don't like about Facebook. Among those in the "like" column is that no matter what you're interested in, there's probably a forum where people talk about it…and if there isn't, you can start one.

I was always curious about Vaughn Meader, who in 1962 starred in one of the fastest-selling records ever made…The First Family in which he impersonated the then-current president, John F. Kennedy. Meader's career came to an understandable (and screeching) halt on 11/22/63…and I must admit: Though I know an awful lot, I think, about comedians and comedy records of that era, I don't know much about him or that record. But I hope to learn.

Announcer/Voiceover Specialist/Historian Christopher Bay has set up a Facebook forum to discuss and share info on the man and his megahit album. I hope to learn more about them and if you'd like to, join me over there.