My friend Greg Ehrbar knows just about everything about cartoons and he hosts an audio podcast called "The Funtastic World of Hanna and Barbera" that focuses on that studio. A few weeks ago we sat down in our respective homes and I forget if we used Zoom or Skype or one of the other ninety options but we had a nice conversation about my days working there. Wanna hear it? Go here and click where they tell you to click. You may need to sit through an ad or three to get to us but it's free.

If you're interested in understanding the conflict in the Middle East at the moment — and I sure wouldn't blame anyone for looking away in helpless frustration — you might want to keep an eye on Fred Kaplan's posts on Slate. This man has a good track record as an explainer and for realistic assessments of these kinds of problems. Here's his latest.

I have this lovely friend named Gabriella Muttone. She's a model and a photographer and a designer and she's running to win some sort of online beauty/grace/smarts competition to benefit the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Here — I'll let Gabriella herself tell you about it…

You can vote once a day for free if you either have a Facebook account and use it to verify you're a person or if you give them a credit card number. As I understand it, they will only charge your card if you explicitly agree to donate the amount you specify to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. And for every buck you donate, Gabriella gets another vote…which sounds to me like a WIN/WIN deal for everyone. Here's the link. Use it well and use it often.

Today's Person I'm Glad I'm Not would be anyone whose life is being ended or made hellish by what's going on in Israel and especially Gaza — horrible, horrible inhumanity. It's a conflict that cannot end well for anyone and it's sickening to watch even a few seconds of it. I'm not going to talk much about it here because I have nothing to say besides the obvious. That doesn't mean it doesn't horrify me.

Every so often on my blog (like here, here, here and here) I write about places at or near the intersection of Pico Boulevard and Westwood Boulevard in West Los Angeles. The house I grew up in was — and come to think of it, still is — a mile away and for some reason, I have some worth-telling (I think) stories that occurred at or around that corner. Today, the newsfromme time machine is transporting us back to when I was around eight years old and was taken perhaps a dozen times to a place near there called Kiddie Land.

There have probably been many thousands of Kiddie Lands and Kiddielands (without the space) in this great nation of ours — tacky arrangements of cheap rides and things to climb on and maybe even games of skill or chance that promise you might win something neat that no one has ever actually won. My parents took me to this Kiddie Land from time to time, often with my Uncle Aaron and my Aunt Dot in tow. As a general rule of thumb, I rarely enjoyed any place I was taken to because it was built for the sheer purpose of amusing children my age.

In my life — I'm 71 now, especially around the knees — I have somehow never gotten around to making an exhaustive study of all the Kiddie Lands in the world. Still, I feel confident in saying this one had to at least tie for the title of Cheapest, Tackiest Kiddie Land ever. What you're seeing in the only photo I've ever seen of the place is probably about half of it. See anything amusing in this amusement park? I didn't then and I don't now.

I have no good memories of this Kiddie Land or any similar one. The rides were never fun and I don't just mean to me. I remember a sense of bonding with other kids my age who were there. We'd exchange looks with one another — looks which said, "Like you, I don't want to be here and pretend I'm having a good time but my folks are making me be here and pretend I'm having a good time." Once or twice, I think we said that aloud to one another.

There were children there who seemed to be happy to be there…who seemed to love riding around on the stupid little trains or on the stupid little horsies or the stupid little tugboats. I could never decide if they were (a) experiencing joyful sensations that were somehow alien to me or (b) much better actors than I was. As I learned later when I was working on TV shows and had to sometimes read opposite someone auditioning for a part in the show, it's pretty easy to be a much better actor than I am.

One time, a boy my age and I started talking while we waited in the line to ride the stupid little horsies that neither of us wanted to ride. He asked me why I was there and I replied, "Because my parents think this is fun for me and I can't convince them it isn't. Why are you here?" This was his answer and I think I'm re-creating it pretty damn close to what he said…

"You're lucky. You have parents who are together. Mine got divorced and every other week, Dad gets custody of me for a day and the only place he can think to take me is here or the Kiddie Land over on La Cienega."

I said, "That's too bad" and he said, "Sometimes, it's not so awful. After we leave here, he'll take me to this restaurant we like and there's a toy store next door and he'll buy me something I really want."

From that point on, I could notice how many of the other kids at Kiddie Land were there with divorced fathers who didn't know where else to take their sons or daughters. It was maybe half the children there. I could even see the divorced fathers chatting with one another, bonding as I did with other kids who didn't want to ride the stupid little trains, horsies or tugboats.

Sometimes as I mentioned, my Uncle Aaron and Aunt Dot were with us. The phrase I most associate with Uncle Aaron is "They're sitting on the land." Here is what that meant…

Uncle Aaron was in the window display business but he was always fantasizing about being…well, I don't know exactly what you'd call it. A Real Estate Investor, maybe. He wanted to be one of those people who buys a piece of property for fifty thousand dollars and sells it years later for ten times that amount.

As far as I know, he never put actual money into any such speculation but wherever he went, he would be evaluating the investment potential of every plot of land he saw as if he was considering buying it. I don't think he ever even had the kind of money it would take to make any of those purchases.

Whenever he saw a little building on some piece of property — a hot dog stand or a gas station, say — he'd announce, "They're sitting on the land," meaning someone bought the property and put up a little business or rented it to someone who did. That was so the little business could generate some income while they waited for the value of the land to go up and a big business could appear at that address. They'd tear down the hot dog stand or the gas station and build a huge shopping center or an immense office building.

Or if he passed a huge, profitable development like a mall or a sprawling apartment complex, he'd shout, "I could have bought that entire lot for twenty-seven thousand dollars!" For years, no large, successful business could be established in this city on acreage that my Uncle Aaron couldn't have bought for a pittance…but didn't.

"Sitting on the land" was, he said, the raison d'etre for the Kiddie Land to which I was dragged. It was probably that for all Kiddie Lands everywhere…and you know what? He was right. Uncle Aaron was absolutely right.

A few years later, that Kiddie Land was razed: There one day, gone the next. It was an empty lot for about a year and on it, a small touring circus was parked for a couple of weeks. Then there was a trampoline park there for a few months. You could pay — I never did this — to play on one for a while. A sign said "More Bounce For Your Buck."

Then the trampolines were gone and that October, there was a business selling pumpkins followed immediately by one selling Christmas Trees. My folks and I went to the Christmas Tree lot and bought an anemic spruce that made Charlie Brown's tree look lush and full by comparison.

Finally, a huge May Company department store went up on the land where we used to ride the stupid trains, the stupid horsies and the stupid tugboats. Uncle Aaron was genetically incapable of passing it without proclaiming, "I could have bought that whole piece of property for thirty thousand dollars!"

The Kiddie Land over on La Cienega was torn down to make way for the Beverly Center which, for about a decade after it was built, was the biggest and most expensive shopping mall in all of Southern California. Uncle Aaron was dead by then but every time I drive by the place, I can hear him shouting, "I could have bought that entire lot for fifty thousand dollars!"

Maybe he could have and maybe he couldn't but I'm glad the Beverly Center displaced that Kiddieland. It means one less place that young, impressionable children can be forced by divorced fathers to ride the stupid trains, the stupid horsies, the stupid tugboats…

My pal Shelly Goldstein linked me to this video of the opening sequences of eighteen (18) short-lived situation comedies of the seventies. My long-ago partner Dennis and I worked briefly on one of them…and come to think of it, everyone who worked on these shows worked briefly on them.

When I see videos like this, I can't help but feel sorry for the performers who are featured in the opening titles…but who then never rose to any similar heights once the show in question was cancelled. For a brief time, they could tell their friends and family, "Hey, I got a series" and they were aware that if it ran as long as M*A*S*H (11 seasons) or Maude (6 seasons), they'd make a heckuva lot of money, be recognized wherever they went for a long time and probably get offers for many other things.

That's if the show lasted long enough to go into syndication. If it was gone at mid-season, they'd have a lot of folks saying, "Hey, what happened to that show you were on?" — which is never a pleasant question to answer. Also, of course, there was the shock of realizing their future income probably wouldn't be what they thought it would be. I heard stories of performers who got a series, made the down payment on a house and/or car and then had to seriously re-plan their lives and wriggle out of some deals.

And when no other acting job turned up quickly, they could get very worried that their careers were somehow tainted by the cancelled series even though it was, to them, either a great show that deserved more of a chance or a poor show that wasn't bad because of them. A lady I knew was on a show not in this montage and when it was quickly axed, she was certain she'd never get another series. And she didn't for about eight weeks.

Watch the video. I never saw some of these programs and odds are neither did you.

Today's Person I'm Glad I'm Not is the judge in the upcoming trial in which the makers of Dominion Voting Machines are suing Mike Lindell for defamation. Lindell says he's going to represent himself.

Several of you have asked me to keep you in the loop as I make the leap from getting my TV from cable and I venture into the jungle of streaming services. It's a jungle because there sure are a lot of them offering pretty much the same services, just gift-wrapped in different ways. Fortunately, unlike some cable arrangements I've had, almost all the streaming services offer seven-day free trials and then if they hook you, it's "No contract, cancel any time." So if I don't like one, it's no big deal to dump it and try another.

I've had to cope with the working assumption by most providers that what I'm most interested in is sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports and, of course, more sports. One of them — I forget which one — offered me the chance to watch fifteen major sporting events at the same time, which is of course the way most people enjoy watching athletic competitions. I had this vision of making one wall of my home look like one of those Sports Books in Las Vegas with dozens of screens all going at the same time so you can watch yourself lose money on six baseball games, three football contests, a couple of basketball competitions, a horse race or two and maybe somewhere in the world, two guys playing a sudden death croquet tournament.

Years ago when I dumped DirecTV, I received a series of phone calls from some sort of retention "We desperately want you back" department. Some of the callers, I sensed, were working some sort of phone lists on commission — they got paid only if they got me to sign up for two more years of DirecTV and so were authorized to offer me special deals to return.

All of those offers involved more sports channels for my money and when I said, "Thanks but I have zero interest in watching sports on TV," I could hear the looks of shock on their faces even when those faces were far off in the Philippines. It's the face you'd make if you offered someone better ventilation and they said, "Thanks but I don't require oxygen."

It's also the face I see in restaurants when they screw up our order and the server or manager says, "We're sorry and we'd like to offer you a free dessert." When you decline, they wonder if they should call the paramedics. A waiter once tried to convince me that there are no calories in a dessert if you don't pay for it.

So I have to wade through these companies that think I'm yearning to watch lacrosse all day and all night. I also have to keep reminding myself that getting eighty-seven zillion channels is no big deal when I'm only going to wind up watching about eleven of them ever. They used to say "He who dies with the most toys wins." These days, it seems to be "He who dies with the most channels in his packages wins."

That's no irresistible deal — just more you have to scroll through to get to the ones you want It's especially annoying when the list includes the 24/7 Hopscotch Channel, the Watching Paint Dry Channel, the All-Britney Spears Movie Channel (where they just rerun Crossroad over and over), the Weather-in-Botswana Network (unless you live in Botswana), the Snail Racing Channel, the Cummerbund Fashion Show Network or Newsmax.

At the moment, I'm subscribed to the streaming service that YouTube offers plus I added on Max (the channel formerly known as HBO Max) and Frndly TV. This may change before the next post on this blog so stay tuned as I stay tuned.

Today's Person I'm Glad I'm Not is Former Trump Organization chief financial officer Allen Weisselberg.

Wide awake again. I think I'll post this video link, then spend some time answering e-mails.

It's been a while since I had a version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" on this blog. Here's my pal Jim Meskimen doing about 6% of all the celebrity impressions he does…

Every so often, I have one of these nights: Can't sleep, can't not sleep. My brain is thinking about anything and everything, processing it all like a blender being spun in a series of quick pulses. Meanwhile, the rest of me is trying to drag me back into bed…a place from which I have arisen three times since I thought I was turning in for the night. And so here I sit at my computer, trapped at the intersection of Good Night and Good Morning. That's where I'll often find me these days.

I just decided to plunge into my "Ask ME" e-mailbox and pick out a question to answer. This is from Andy Cavaliere…

Your recent series on Frank Robbins raised a question for me. I've always wondered about how differently DC handled its two big properties circa 1971. You and others have gone into great detail about how finicky Sol Harrison was about Jack's Superman faces. But then here, right around the same time, Julie Schwartz seemingly had the latitude to bring in Frank Robbins to draw Batman, with a style very different from the prevailing look for the character.

I know Superman was still the crown jewel at the time, but you'd think Batman would be treated similarly, especially just a few years removed from being a pop culture phenomenon. I suppose we're fortunate that Harrison didn't have Neal Adams redraw Frank's Batman faces. Was it just as simple as the fact that Batman wore a mask, so it wasn't seen as a big deal? Or was DC's production team just being capricious?

Well, first off, it wasn't Sol Harrison…or to be more accurate, it wasn't just Sol Harrison. As the head of production at DC, he had very definite ideas about what a comic book should look like but he didn't have the power you ascribe to him. If Sol had been in charge, Jack Kirby — or anyone who drew like him — would never have gotten in the door. There were folks there who couldn't see anything good about the sixties Marvel line. It was kind of like how today, so many Republicans can't admit when a Democrat does anything good and most Democrats are same when Republicans make things better.

But Sol's antipathy to the way Jack drew dated back to way before Marvel was a threat to DC. Sol didn't like Jack's art on Challengers of the Unknown in 1957. The decision to homogenize Jack's drawings of Superman and Jimmy Olsen was made by many who didn't like the idea of their "crown jewel" looking like he was in one of those crappy Marvel comics. This was not a problem when Frank Robbins drew Batman. Frank Robbins was not (then) a Marvel artist.

And by the way: I suspect the decision to have Frank Robbins draw a few Batman stories was made by Carmine Infantino, who was supervising the editors then. At the very least, it was approved by him. Having argued that I think too many folks blame a miscast artist when he's doing his best on a book he shouldn't be doing — they should be blaming the editor who made the assignment — I shall now point out the following: I think too often they blame editors for decisions that were made by a person with the title of Publisher or Editorial Director. Or they could even be higher-up in the company.

Thanks for your question, Andy. I seem to have put myself in the mood to doze by writing out that reply. I hope I didn't put anybody else to sleep. If you spot any typos, I'll fix 'em in the morning. G'night, I hope.

I have a suitcase that I took with me to Comic-Con in San Diego last July and have not unpacked. Nonetheless, it is time for those who will need to procure badges to attend next year's Comic-Con International to start thinking about this. The convention next year will be July 25-28, 2024 at — where else? — the San Diego Convention Center. Preview Night will be July 24 and all of the parking spaces for the convention are already sold out.

No, I'm kidding about the parking spaces. Or maybe I'm just about 280 days early. Either way, I'm not kidding when I tell you that Returning Registration will take place on Saturday, November 4. Returning Registration is for those who purchased a badge for this past Comic-Con and didn't request a refund. At a later date, there will be a sale called Open Registration in which anyone, returnee or not, can compete to purchase badges.

Details of all this can be found on this page where they'll first tell you that you have to a valid Comic-Con Member ID. By the way, there is no truth to the rumor that my Comic-Con Member ID number is #1.

If any of what's over there seems confusing, you might get straightened out by visiting our friends at The San Diego Comic-Con Unofficial Blog. They are, as they boast, unofficial but they sure know a lot about how Comic-Con works. Keep an eye on their site and the official site for the latest news. Don't count on me to bring it to you.

Negotiations to end the SAG-AFTRA strike seem to have hit an impasse. I don't know anything about it other than in a situation like this, one should not listen to rumors. The irresistible forces on one side have clashed with the immovable objects on the other with regard to at least one issue — probably one that is actor-specific and wasn't addressed in the new Writers Guild contract. Eventually one side or maybe both will budge. Often, one side walking away from the bargaining table for a little while is a calculated move to intimidate the other side. They'll be back.

Today's Person I'm Glad I'm Not is Senator Robert Menendez.

I am now totally liberated from the company that for many years was giving me cable service and mucho grief. I even yanked some of their wiring out myself. I've been checking out various streaming services and I'll report here when I settle on one. If there wasn't a channel on Pluto — the app, not the planet or Mickey Mouse's dog — that runs Garfield and Friends 24/7, I'd be joking here that I want to find a service that streams Garfield & Friends 24/7. But they all do because they all carry Pluto — the app, not the planet or Mickey Mouse's dog.

Lastly for now: Someone asked me, by the way, if I get paid for all those shows I worked on being rerun endlessly on streaming services. The answer is yes and I'm thinking of taking all the money they'll pay me this year and treating myself to a Five Guys burger and fries. That would, of course, be the little Five Guys burger and the small-size fries but I can help myself to all the free peanuts I like. And right there, you see one of the reasons the WGA and the actors went on strike.

This will be short because I really didn't know Keith Giffen. Met him once up at DC…chatted briefly at some convention…no real connection. Seeing messages this evening online from those who knew and loved the guy, I guess I missed out on some encounters I would have enjoyed. I did enjoy that he was one of those "you never know what he'll do next" type of creative talents. But you can find all that out just by reading most of the work he left us…work that is already being reprinted for a new generation.

If you came here thinking you'd hear all about the guy, I apologize. But if you search around on the online comic book forums, you'll find plenty about him. I think I'll go read some of those messages myself. He's already sadly missed.

There are Republicans in office in this country I respect but Senator Tommy Tuberville from Alabama is not one of them. I have the feeling that even some of the people who vote for him don't particularly respect him. A lot of politics these days strikes me as Republicans who think the world as we know it will come to an end if a Democrat is elected versus Democrats who think the same thing about Republicans.

So they vote not for the person who seems to be the smartest or the most honest or even the one who'll do the most for them. They vote for the person of their party who's most likely to win and keep the office in question away from the other party. They might prefer a different person in their party or even, on rare occasions, someone not in their party…but they vote for the person most likely to win. It's why Donald Trump won't lose certain supporters even if he's convicted of every count in every indictment and meanwhile, video surveillance footage turns up of him molesting E. Jean Carroll.

Senator Tuberville has lately been blocking military promotions even though senior military officials say he's damaging our forces. He's also done lots of things that his colleagues on the "R" side of the aisle would consider treasonous if they were done by a Democrat… things that some of us think are wrong when done by someone in either party. He also seems to think it's hilarious — and indicative of being unfit to serve, those times when Joe Biden has fallen down.

Sen. Tommy Tuberville, R-Al., has been metaphorically summoned by the karma police after a clip of him falling down some airplane stairs calls to memory the many times he mocked President Biden for his own ambulatory accidents. Tuberville's tumble took place on Wednesday while exiting the aircraft, at which point he appears to have lost his footing, causing him to slide down quite a distance, losing his grip on the luggage he'd been grasping in each hand as he made his way down.

As Newsweek points out in their coverage of this clip, Tuberville yucked it up with reporters back in July over Biden experiencing a similar difficulty, saying, "You watch Joe Biden over in Europe. I mean, I'm afraid he's going to fall down every time I turn on television."

And the article from which I'm quoting (this one) and others online say that Democrats are having a merry time of it mocking Tuberville. You want to know what I think?

No, you probably don't but this is my blog so if you don't want to know what I think, you shouldn't be reading this. What I think is that a person — especially an older person falling down is not funny and I have a really, really low opinion of someone who would laugh at that kind of thing. People die from falls…or sustain injuries that plague them for the rest of their lives. And yes, I'm 71 years old (mostly around the knees) so I have a self-interest there but I've felt this way since my age was in single digit. I never thought there was a scintilla of humor in someone injuring themselves for real.

And before someone makes the inevitable comment: Yes, I love movies starring people like Laurel & Hardy, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, dozens of others not in their class like The Three Stooges. Yes, I love It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World and many other movies and TV shows in which people fall down. That's different. That's a movie. That's not real. When you see someone murdered in a movie, you don't have the same reaction you'd have if you saw someone being murdered in real life. At least for your sake, I hope you don't.

But I can remember a number of times over the years when I was present when someone fell and I was horrified by the reaction of some onlookers. When I was about twenty-two, I was dating a lady who somehow had a knack for being present when someone injured themselves…and it was a good thing she was. She was a Physical Education instructor at a junior college but she'd received extensive trading in First Aid. At times, I felt like I was out with a paramedic.

One night we were in Westwood Village and an older woman — about the age I am now — was walking down four steps in front of the old Hungry Tiger restaurant. We didn't see what caused it but we heard a scream and turned to see her hit the bricks (it was all bricks) having fallen down hard. Three seconds later, I was running towards her to help and my lady friend was three seconds ahead of me.

I very vividly remember that scream. And I remember the sound of laughter…people laughing at that poor lady. I still don't understand why that was funny to anyone.

Not everyone laughed. A lot of people tried to help. My lady friend took my handkerchief and used it to try and stop some bleeding. Someone announced, "I'll call an ambulance" and headed off to do so with others asking, "Do you need change?" No cell phones in those days…just pay phones. My job suddenly was to keep people back. A lot of folks wanted to crowd in and look and some, for a reason I will never understand, to laugh. My lady friend and I took command of the situation until an ambulance pulled up — we were about four blocks from U.C.L.A. Medical Center — and the professionals could take over.

Two or three dates later, almost the exact same thing happened outside the Ahmanson Theater downtown: A woman about the same age. A few steps she couldn't navigate. People laughing. I think some of those who saw it happen even applauded like it was done for their amusement. The same lady friend rushed to help her out. She was with me other times when similar things happened. Both us us were really thrown by the laughing and I think I turned to one of them who was amused to be looking at a 70+ year old woman who might have just broken her leg. I think I said, "There's no point in you standing there. She's not going to do an encore for your amusement!"

I didn't understand it then. I don't understand it now. Yeah, there's a little karma in Tommy Tuberville taking a spill…but funny? Not in the least, no matter who did it.