Category Archives: To Be Filed

Another old Vegas institution is about to go bye-bye. The Riviera — the oldest hotel-casino on the Strip — has been purchased by, of all parties, the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority. They're the folks who run the convention center there. The Riviera will close May 4 and be torn down so that the convention center (already one of the biggest in the country) can be expanded and extended to Las Vegas Boulevard. It will be huge and it will be awesome but unless they move it to another city, it would still be a terrible place to hold Comic-Con International.

Just finished watching the Oscars my way, which is to fast-forward through a lot of the festivities. To those of you complaining the show was long: It's supposed to be long. Commercial rates are astronomical and the network and Academy want to sell a lot of them. Next year, try watching it the way I do.

Neil Patrick Harris did fine, I thought…though at the moment all anyone on the 'net seems to be discussing is the bit with him in his underwear. That's a tough room joke-wise and I doubt anyone else could have done much better in that capacity. The opening number was fine, considering there's never anything to say in those things besides, "Hey, movies are great!" (Wanna read the lyrics to the tune, which was written by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez, who did the songs for Frozen? Here they are.)

I liked his magic trick — the predictions in the briefcase — and I think I've figured out how it was done. But I'm not 100% certain…and no, I won't tell you my theory.

I made three predictions myself and got five right…though some were pretty obvious. So was the reason Michael Keaton didn't win. They disqualified him because every time he was on camera, he was chewing gum.

Also, I correctly predicted that there would be jokes about the whiteness of the nominees (again, obvious) and I guess I predicted that Idina Menzel would come out and maul John Travolta's name. Again, there weren't a lot of surprises. And oh, yeah: People on the web are complaining that Joan Rivers (who didn't make very many movies) didn't make the obit reel. Neither did Carla Laemmle, which surprised me more. I suppose the tribute to Joan was all the bitchy comments on Twitter about what everyone was wearing.

I thought he'd try something to out-Tweet the star-studded selfie pic that Ellen DeGeneres took last year. After I wrote that, I saw a couple of online articles that said something of the sort was planned. Either the articles were wrong or it got dropped. I was thinking it would be neat to pass a special Smartphone around during the show and give everyone in the first ten rows a chance to take one of themselves and have it instantly posted to some Twitter account.

All in all, a decent show. I've already seen some reviews saying it was a disaster and I think these people are expecting the Academy Awards to be something it can never be. Some were complaining about who won as if the producers of the telecast could have arranged for different names in the envelopes or more interesting songs to be nominated. There were a lot of good films this year but I didn't get that any performers were sentimental or emotional favorites. Again, not the fault of the producers of the program…but for some viewers, it seems like the best thing about the Oscars is complaining about them.

Earlier today, I posted to a link to a piece purportedly written by Denny Dillon of the 1980 Saturday Night Live cast about her experiences at the SNL40 broadcast and afterparty. I have taken down the link for now (and maybe forever) because questions have arisen as to whether it's legit or maybe someone's parody of other such pieces. It is on a Denny Dillon blog that has only one post and which was started just the other day on a free service…so that's suspicious. Also, I am told that some virus checkers are flagging it as dangerous, though mine is not.

Anyway, I've removed the link for now. My apologies to Ms. Dillon if it turns out to be bogus. If anyone has any information, lemme know.

Let me tell you about the photograph you see before you. It was taken in the backyard of the home in which I lived with my parents from age 1 to about 22. I'll guess I was about seven, maybe eight in this picture. The little girl was named either Roxy or Lee.

The reason I'm not certain is that Roxy and Lee were identical twins — and I mean identical. Their grandmother, who lived next door to us, could not tell them apart and she claimed that even their parents had trouble. Roxy and Lee liked this and encouraged their folks to dress them alike. When their folks didn't, they were known to swap outfits, just to keep everyone guessing. They would also sometimes claim to be each other. If you took a guess, they'd usually tell you you were wrong, even if you were right.

Every week or three, Roxy and Lee would come stay with their grandmother for a few days and when they did, we'd play games and I would make up little adventure stories for us to act out. Once, we put on a show in that backyard for my parents, their grandma and as many of the neighbors as we could bring there under duress. We opened with a magic act that utterly baffled the three people there who didn't know that my assistant had a twin. For a few seconds there, they actually thought I'd magically transported her from one big cardboard box to another.

The other seven people in our audience laughed because they knew the secret. Then we intentionally gave it away to the other three so Roxy and Lee could both be in the rest of the show together. They sang and danced to a record I played there in the yard thanks to a phonograph and an ungodly-long chain of extension cords. I did other magic tricks and a ventriloquism act that did not have Paul Winchell sweating the competition.

I liked Roxy and Lee a lot. One day, we learned that their grandmother was moving away. Actually, everyone in the small apartment complex next door was moving away.  It was being demolished to be replaced by a large apartment building.  I was quite sad because it meant the end of my friendship with Roxy and Lee.  I never even got to see them for a "last time."

In the above photo, one of them and I seem to be running some kind of mobile exhibit of rocks we'd found or something. I have no idea what we were doing but I do remember that wagon which served me well. It was at different times, a spaceship and a stagecoach and an ice cream truck and a door-to-door lemonade stand and I believe I even won the Indianapolis 500 in it a few times. Finally in my teen years, I gave it to a younger boy who lived down the street and he too found all sorts of imaginative uses for it.  He may even have used it as a wagon.

The main thing I would call your attention to in the photo is that little house we had in our yard. It was there when we moved in and I'm not sure of its original purpose. It had no plumbing or electricity, which suggested it was built as a tool and storage shed. But it also had big windows all around it which suggested people were expected to be inside it. Here's another photo where you can see it…

I don't know what caused me to make that face. Usually when I'm around females, they're the one making that face.

For a time, I used the little house cautiously as a playhouse — cautiously because many of the windows were broken, the floor had weak spots on it, there were portions of the ceiling that looked like they might come down at any minute, and there were a great many rusty nails in its walls. My Uncle Nathan, who was marginally handy with tools, occasionally went in and tried to remove some of the greater hazards but it finally came down to a simple decision: My father would either have to spend a lot of money to have someone come in and fix it up or it would have to be demolished.

A neighbor recommended a carpenter who came by and quoted a price to make it safe and inhabitable. The amount was clearly out of the question so my father asked, "How much to tear it down and haul everything away?" That fee was less but also more than he could spend at that time. Uncle Nathan boarded up the windows and the one door…and the little house just sat there for a year or two looking sad and maybe haunted.

During that time, the apartment complex next door was razed and a new, modern building took its place. As you might expect, we began finding termite droppings in our home. A bunch of them probably came in when they lost their residence next door and another wave probably arrived with all the lumber that was trucked in to build the new building.

An exterminator gave us a price to have our house tented and fumigated but, he said, there was no point in doing that as long as that little house was in the backyard. It was swarming with the little beasts and would re-attract them after any "kill."  He gave my father an estimate on what it would cost to rip the place down now. It was $300, which seemed like a lot at the time. My father thought about it for a few days and finally decided he had no choice but to pay it.

Then my mother had a thought. She asked our gardener Felipe what he would charge to do it. He said he didn't do that kind of work. Then she asked him, "If someone else tore the building down, what would you charge to haul away all the old wood and broken glass?" That, he said, he would do — for $40.

She came to me and said, "How'd you like to make $130?" That was half of what would be left if she and I tore it down and Felipe cleaned up after us.

I think I was ten at the time and $130 seemed like…well, less than a million dollars but not by much. The primary expenditure in my life was the purchase of comic books, most of which I bought at used book shops where I could get six for 25 cents. I did some instant arithmetic. $130 was 3,120 comic books.

But not really. There were many current comic books on the newsstand that looked so wonderful that I couldn't resist paying full cover price, which then was a dime. So maybe it was more like 2,000 comics. I remember thinking, "Gee, it's too bad I won't have a little house in the backyard to store them in."

My mother then said, "Now, don't think I'm going to let you spend the $130 all on comic books. Some of it's going to have to go for clothes and other expenses."

I asked, "Could I buy a pair of socks and spend the rest on comic books?" She said no. I could spend $30 on comics and then the remaining $100 would go towards, as she put it, "Necessities of Life." I tried to argue that Detective Comics was one but all she said was, "Nice try, kid. Nice try." I never could put one over on my mother. My father, yes…but not my mother.

Still, I took the offer. Thirty bucks worth of comic books was, after all, thirty bucks worth of comic books. Even at twelve cents apiece, that was a lot.

She presented the proposition to my father: "Give us the money and Mark and I will tear down the little house." He was skeptical but obviously, there was a value to keeping the dough within the family. "You've got a deal," he told us. "But for God's sake, be careful."

We were…and it was, up to a point, enormous fun. The little house was built like a real house but without a concrete foundation. We bought tools so I had safety goggles and gloves and a sledge hammer that was appropriate to my size and a big crowbar that I used to pry the shingles off the exterior. Once I did that, some of the walls beneath them could be knocked down with the sledge hammer, even by a ten-year-old boy. The little house turned out to be in even worse shape than we'd thought, plus we also had a big assist from those termites.

When we got the place down to the framework, Uncle Nathan decided to get in on the action. He went someplace and rented a gasoline-fueled power saw and then came over and cut down some of the upright beams, collapsing the roof. Boy, that was exciting. Many years later, I was outside the Hacienda Hotel in Las Vegas the night it was imploded with thousands of gallons of liquid explosives. Watching the little house come down was more memorable and astonishing.

Then Uncle Nathan sawed the roof and interior paneling into smaller chunks that Felipe the Gardener could fit into his truck. When the house was almost down, we paid Felipe to dig up the wooden frame that had formed the foundation. He then hauled the wreckage away and we were done.

My father was amazed. Absolutely amazed. He stood out in the backyard, staring at the plot where the little house had been and he said over and over, "I can't believe you did it! I cannot believe it!"

Between that extra cost of Felipe's excavation and what we spent on tools, we didn't clear $260. It was more like $200 but I still put aside $30 from my share for comic books and the rest went for clothes, shoes and some new shelving for my bedroom. I had to have a place to put all those comic books, after all. That was a Necessity of Life.

Only days after the little house was gone, we had to spend two nights at a nearby motel while our big house was covered with a tent. It was then filled with poison gas…which, the exterminator swore to me on the life of his children, would not harm my beloved comic book collection. As we were checking into the motel, the clerk noted that the address my father wrote on the registration card was less than a mile away. "You're not from out of town, I see. Might I ask the reason you'll be staying with us?"

My father was still reeling with astonishment at our demolition work. I guess it was partly that and partly to make a joke that he told the man, "My son here tore down our house."

The clerk gave me a look of incredulity and he asked, "Did you really do that?"

I said, "Yes." And motioning to the little suitcase I was holding, I added, "I packed my sledge hammer and my crowbar! If the TV in our room doesn't work, this place will be a parking lot by morning!"

One more SNL40 remembrance, this from Denny Dillon, who was in the 1980-1981 cast, i.e., The Jean Doumanian Years. I don't think there was much chance the special would show any real highlights from non-Lorne years unless they featured Eddie Murphy…and they didn't even have many clips of him.

I always felt a little sorry for the performers who got trapped in that season, the season in which a new cast was thrown together from disparate backgrounds and expected to quickly become a team that equaled how great everyone thought Chevy, Gilda, Dan, John, Laraine, Bill, Jane and Garrett had been. Even with a great producer, that would have been a nearly-impossible expectation to meet. Ms. Dillon did some funny things during her brief time on that show.

[NOTE: The link to this piece has been removed. Here's why.]

BBC Radio is currently offering a half-hour profile of Stan Laurel. Click here to listen to it. I know not how long it will be online.

Carrol Spinney is…Big Birdman.

Badges for this year's Comic-Con International in San Diego went on sale this morning and were all gone in about the time it takes The Flash to blink twice after being maced. As usual, the number of available badges was much smaller than the number who wanted them so we have some angry and/or desperate folks around who didn't snag one.

Some will find other ways to get in. One source is that in a few months, there should be a sale of whatever badges were purchased today and are then returned to the con for refunds by people who find themselves unable to attend. Others find ways of getting badges from exhibitors.

Some will simply not get in. Others will decide that while they may not be able to gain admission to the convention hall, they can have a great time in the street fair that surrounds the con every year.

One thing you should not do: Do not purchase badges from any source but the convention itself. Badges are non-transferable and sometimes they are counterfeit.

One other thing you should not do: Do not contact me to ask if I can get you in. I am a Special Guest, not a member of the staff there, no matter how many panels I host.

As the above-linked article suggests, dickering is still going on about keeping the Comic-Con in San Diego after its current contract expires, which it will following the 2016 shindig. Even though the convention center may not get its long-promised expansion for some time, I believe the con will remain in San Diego. Why do I think this? Because the folks in San Diego who operate the convention center and nearby businesses would have to have the brains of a glue-sniffing gerbil to let the con get away. A particularly stupid glue-sniffing gerbil.

In the meantime: Badges are still available for WonderCon Anaheim, which is run by the same folks and which takes place at the Anaheim Convention Center from April 3 to April 5. It's kind of like Comic-Con Lite and while it does have only about a third the attendance, it also has an exhibit hall too large to fully explore and it has panels (five of them hosted by me) and a lot of the same magic, including all the parking difficulties you love so much at Comic-Con. I'll tell you more about WonderCon as we near its dates. I always have a good time there and you can, too.

This article explains the difference between corned beef and pastrami. To me, the big difference is that no matter what restaurant or deli I eat in, I always find the corned beef quite edible but occasionally find the pastrami too spicy. Once in a while, I find them close to indistinguishable. So if I'm going to order either, I go with the corned beef. And yes, I've tried the pastrami at Langer's in downtown L.A.

The surest indicator that Hillary Clinton will not be the next President of the United States: Bill Kristol thinks she's going to win. I'm about 30% serious about this.

The chance and quantity of rain for tomorrow in Los Angeles has been bumped up so it looks like it will rain on the Academy Awards. Given how much of the U.S. is getting repeatedly snowbound, that may seem like no big deal…but come on. These are wealthy movie stars with expensive outfits and precision hair-dos. They're not supposed to get rained-on.

I saw almost none of the nominated movies this past year but here are my guesses based on industry buzz: Boyhood for Best Picture, Alejandro González (Birdman) for Best Director, Michael Keaton (Birdman) for Best Actor, Julianne Moore (Still Alice) for Best Actress, J.K. Simmons (Whiplash) for Best Supporting Actor, Patricia Arquette (Boyhood) for Best Supporting Actress, The Grand Budapest Hotel for Best Original Screenplay, The Imitation Game for Best Adapted Screenplay and beyond that, your guess is not only as good as mine but probably better.

I was kidding about Meryl Streep always winning. I think Into the Woods will be overlooked.

I'll also predict that Neil Patrick Harris will be a great host, that he's planning something that will try to out-Tweet Ellen De Generes' selfie stunt last year, and that there'll be several remarks about the non-nomination of Selma or black people. Also, at least one person will utter one of those gross exaggerations of how many people are watching worldwide, and after the show, the Internet will be abuzz with folks saying it was The Worst Oscars Ever and also complaining about some egregious omissions from the In Memoriam reel.

My Big Tip: Record the thing on your TiVo or other D.V.R., wait until around 90 minutes into the show and then start watching and doing a lot of Fast-Forwarding. I try to get caught up to the live broadcast in time to watch the last half-hour as it happens. It's never that bad a show if you can get it down to around half its actual length.

Gary Kroeger was a cast member on Saturday Night Live from 1982 to 1985 and now he's fixing to run for Congress from the district that includes Cedar Falls, Iowa.

He's posted his recollections of the SNL40 evening, including being introduced to Sarah Palin. She was told he was a Democrat and she said, "They're not all bad." Wonder if she ever says that in front of Republican crowds.

This is another one of those folks who create amazing a cappella music videos. This is Danny Fong with "When You Wish Upon A Star."

I have an odd fondness for that song even though I disagree fundamentally with its philosophy. I don't think there's anything wrong with wishing upon a star or praying to your god(s)…as long as you don't mistake that for actually doing something to make something happen…

After Jessica Williams squelched speculation that she would be sitting in the Jon Stewart chair, some women criticized her for…well, for not reacting as they would have reacted. Or maybe they felt she was poised to knock down a barrier that women — especially black women — face and that she owed it to her sex to claim that beachhead. Yeah…late night comedy is male-dominated. But Ms. Williams may have other plans for her future and given her age and lack of years in the biz, it's not insulting to women that she says she's unqualified at this time.

Under a heading of "sexist bullshit," one of her critics wrote, "Jessica Williams, respectfully, I reject your humility. What on earth does 'under-qualified' mean when it comes to being a comedian? You're smart, you're funny, you're self-possessed. Is there something I'm missing?" Yeah. You're missing that Jon Stewart did more on that show than just deliver funny material. He set the tone for the program, wrote material and rewrote what others wrote, dealt with the network, selected new correspondents, went on other shows and did interviews to promote and defend The Daily Show and handled a zillion other duties that went with the title of Executive Producer.

His replacement, whoever it is, may not do all that but they'll have to do some of it. This is not a job that every funny person can do…or would want to tackle.

So many criticisms that I see of people in show business fall into the general category of "How dare they not run their careers the way I would?" There were articles faulting Craig Ferguson for not demanding or somehow getting David Letterman's chair. Well, maybe he didn't want it the way you'd want it. Or maybe he did, decided it was ungettable and decided it was better to say he didn't want it. Whatever the reason, he had his reasons.

Why wouldn't Jessica Williams want to follow in Jon Stewart's footsteps? Well, not feeling she's up to the demands of the job would be a good enough justification. So would a concern about the expectations that will be dumped upon whoever gets the gig. So would preferring to maybe follow in the footsteps of Steve Carrell or Rob Corddry or other former Daily Show correspondents who've gone on to pretty fine careers in films or prime-time TV. So would just plain feeling you're still learning to swim and not quite ready yet for the deep end of the pool.

I don't know her specific thoughts. I do know though that I wouldn't insult Ms. Williams by presuming I have a better idea of what's good for her than she does. One of the key tenets of the Women's Rights movement is to not be forced into someone else's template for how all people of your gender should live or think.

Moreover, one of the key points for anyone is not to be forced to move to the next higher level just because it's the next higher level. Years ago, I had an ongoing battle with one of my agents. Every time I was offered a writing job in television, he had this knee-jerk response. He'd say, "I'm going to demand they make you Producer."

I had to keep stopping him. On some shows, it would have meant a few more bucks and a more impressive (to some) title. On others, it would have meant 20% more money for 200% more hours…and the hours would have been spent on administrative responsibilities or dealing with networks or budgets when I'd rather just write. That's assuming I even had the skills to be Producer…and in some situations, I did not.

You do not have to grab every opportunity to move to the next highest rung on any ladder. Sometimes, as per the Peter Principle, you advance to your Level of Incompetence, leaving a job you can do and moving to one you can't. Sometimes, moving up means you embed yourself so deep in a situation, you can't get out or do other things you want to do.

I think Jessica Williams is going to be a big, big star. I don't know where and she and her agents might not be so sure at the moment. Success does involve both talent and sage career management…and sage career management often involves saying no to good offers because they're not the right good offer. And it especially involves not listening to what someone else thinks is right for you. They, unlike you, have nothing to lose by being wrong.