Category Archives: Uncategorized

I'm in the recording studio all day today directing episodes of The Garfield Show, then tonight I'm going to that event with Dick Van Dyke and Carl Reiner, then when I get home I have work to do and…well, you might not hear much from me here the next day or so. Hey, I hear tonight Mr. Van Dyke will announce that he and Julie Andrews will reunite for a remake of My Fair Lady with him in the Rex Harrison role. It'll be a little different, this time. In this version, Liza will try to teach Higgins how to gain a proper Cockney accent. No, but I wanna tell ya…

Back soon.

Tom Spurgeon has posted his annual list of tips for Comic-Con, which is so exhaustive you'll need no other. He did, however, leave out the very important one about how you should make a list of every panel I host and attend. There are, believe it or not, a couple of folks who just about do this every year. (One of my pet peeves, as I think I've mentioned before here, is when someone complains to me that there's not enough at the con about classic comic books…and this person didn't show up for, or even know about the panel I did with all the surviving Bob Kane ghost artists, the panel I did with Denny O'Neil and Neal Adams discussing their run on Batman, the panel I just did about Harvey Kurtzman and MAD Comics, etc. Hey, folks. It's there for you. Turn out and support this stuff with your presence and there'll even be more of it.)

Tom mentions the Ralphs Market near the Convention Center. It's at the corner of 1st Avenue and W. G St. and it's open 24/7. During the con, its aisles are often full of congoers, many still sporting badges as they pick up snacks or supplies or even whole meals. If I ever found an evening at the convention where I didn't know of a party but I wanted to be around convention folks and maybe run into friends, I think I'd just hike over to the Ralphs…which, by the way, I'm told has been completely remodelled and rearranged since we were there last year. It's truly become a part of the con and I expect to soon begin panels there, probably near the deli case where it's cool.

Speaking of which: Last year, a cash-strapped friend of mine told me how he saves money at the con…or anywhere he travels by car. He bought a tiny microwave oven (I think one of these) and he takes it and the appropriate groceries along and just heats up meals in his room. He told me this in the Ralphs where he was buying the one necessity he'd forgotten to pack — a can opener. He also told me he's learned to call ahead and ask if the hotel has microwaves because he'd recently hauled his along on a trip and found there was already one in the room.

I'll probably think of other things to suggest about the con before it happens but not many that you won't find in Tom's guide. Did I mention about going to my panels?

Those of you who live in or around Los Angeles might be interested in this. The Writers Bloc — that group that stages the best author-pushing-a-book events in the world — will feature Albert Brooks on June 28. He'll be interviewed by TV producer-documentarian Bob Weide and afterwards, you can buy a copy of the new novel by Mr. Brooks and get him to write his name inside your copy. Go here to make a reservation.

When I'm asked who or what is the funniest thing I've ever seen on a stage, I sometimes mention the time I got to see Albert Brooks in one of his last standup comedy engagements. And when I say this, no one ever makes an odd face and says, "Albert Brooks? Really?" They all nod with envy and say, "Yeah, I wish he still did that."

This Tuesday night, Writers Bloc will be hosting an event at which Carl Reiner will interview Dick Van Dyke. It is long since sold out but I will be reporting on it here. You'd do well to keep an eye on the Writers Bloc website because they always have things like that and most of 'em sell out rapidly.

My great friends Paul Dini and Misty Lee do a weekly podcast, aided by their two dogs and a sock monkey named Rashy. Recently, I agreed to be a guest for what we all thought was going to be one show, maybe a half-hour or 40 minutes in length. Somehow, we got to yakking and it turned into three shows, all longer than the one was supposed to be. You can listen to Part One, which runs a hair over an hour, at this link. Part Two will be up next Sunday and Part Three will follow. In this episode, we talk mostly about how I got into the writing business, how I met (briefly) folks like Groucho Marx and Bob Hope, hanging out at the Magic Castle, how I wound up writing Garfield cartoons, a little about comic books and other vital topics of my life. If that sounds like something you'd like, tune in Radio Rashy.

By the way, you'll also get to hear me scramble the names of the great comedy writing team, Bill Persky and Sam Denoff. That's who they are. They are not Bill Denoff and Sam Persky or whatever it was I called them. This is why they don't let me on the radio very often.

As I mentioned here yesterday, I really have only one great memory of riding public buses. This, folks, is it…

It was an afternoon around early 1970. I was on a bus going from Hollywood to West Los Angeles and a man got on…an older man, about in his mid-seventies and somewhat overweight. He seemed so familiar that I stared at him until I realized that he seemed to be Billy Gilbert.

Billy Gilbert was a great character actor who worked, usually in support, of most of the great film comedians. He was in a lot of Laurel and Hardy movies, including their most famous short, The Music Box. (He was the professor who hates pianos.) He worked with Keaton. He worked with Fields. He worked with Chaplin. He worked with Moe, Larry and Curly…and then later, he was teamed in a few films with Shemp Howard. That's him with Shemp in the picture above.

He even did voices for Mr. Disney, including Sneezy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Oh — and he worked with the Marx Brothers. He was in A Night at the Opera. He played (without credit at the time) the musician who tries to stop Harpo and Chico from playing "Cosi Cosa" on the ship's deck. That's Billy on the left here…

In other words, this was a man who was involved in a lot of movie history, particularly in the kind of movies I most enjoy. I said to myself, "Self, you can't miss this opportunity to say hello to him," and then I hesitated. I thought it was Billy Gilbert but I wasn't 100% sure it was Billy Gilbert. But he sure looked like Billy Gilbert, at least the way Billy Gilbert had looked on a recent TV appearance.

Then I heard another passenger (an older woman) lean over and say to him, "They ran that movie last night…the one you did with Alice Faye."

Okay, so it was Billy Gilbert. I slipped over into a seat nearer to him and said, "Mr. Gilbert?" He gave me a startled look that would not have been out of place in a Three Stooges comedy.

I said, "I don't mean to bother you but I'm an enormous fan of your work and I just wanted to tell you how terrific you always are."

He seemed puzzled and I guess it was because of my age. I was 19, remember, so I probably looked like a child to him. He said, "Thank you," then quickly added, "Do you really know who I am?"

I said, "Yes" and then I ticked off a brief list of his credits from memory. It seemed to satisfy him that I knew who he was. He seemed pleased and that, of course, pleased me. Because everything he'd done on film had pleased me and I figured I was returning the favor, just a little.

Just then, he said, "My stop's coming up" and he asked me to pull the little cord that buzzed to inform the driver that someone wanted off. I did, when the bus stopped a few seconds later, I helped him out of his seat and to the door. He shook my hand, thanked me and semi-stumbled down to the curb.

I don't know why but it didn't occur to me to get off with him. Maybe I could have walked him to wherever he was going and we could have talked a bit more. Just didn't think of it.

That was the only time I ever saw him. And it was my favorite moment that ever occurred on a bus. As favorite moments on buses go, it was a pretty good one.

John Bengston seems to be the world champ at tracking down and documenting the filming locations for silent movies. Even if you're not familiar with the films themselves, you may enjoy his weblog where he shows you "then and now" pics of Los Angeles and other places where non-talking movies were made.

I learned to drive in 1972 when I was twenty years of age. My friends all started earlier but I had a little mental block against it which I had to overcome. I suspect my father inadvertently contributed to it. He loved to drive friends and family members around. For a long time, he discouraged my mother from learning to drive because he so enjoyed chauffeuring her about. Going to the airport? My father would insist you not waste money on a taxi and instead let him take you. He was the original Super Shuttle.

Then when I was around ten, he read a newspaper item about a child who had died…I don't know the exact story but it was something like this: A kid had been injured and he might have been saved if his mother had had a car and been able to drive her son to the hospital — but she couldn't drive and she didn't have a car. Whatever the details, the report prompted my father to change his mind about my mother driving. She got a license and a car but she didn't like driving and did it rarely — usually just to the market and back, doing well under the speed limit both ways. She drove me to doctor appointments occasionally but never had to rush me to an emergency room.

So my father drove me everywhere and discouraged me from driving. Further discouragement came from a Driver's Education teacher I had in high school. His name, so help me, was Mr. Break…and I was disappointed when I learned he spelled it that way. He'd introduce himself to classes by saying, "My name is Break, as in 'your neck!'" And then he'd scare the hell out of us with his lessons. I remember some "safety film" that was full of mangled bodies and blood, showing what would happen if you drove your car into a brick wall at 60 MPH.

I guess it worked. I've never driven my car into a brick wall at 60 MPH or even much slower. But it and Mr. Break also put me off the whole idea of getting behind the wheel. When I had to do it in class with him, he made it sound like if I accidentally turned the radio on at the wrong moment, the car would explode and everyone in the vehicle would die a fiery death.

I only recall one positive/constructive lesson I learned from him. We were driving around the neighborhood, a few blocks from school — me at the wheel, him in the passenger seat, three other students squished in the back awaiting their turns. A red sports car zoomed past us, doing well over the posted limit and swerving — briefly but dangerously — into the opposite lane. Mr. Break said, "Remember that car."

As we drove along, he explained, "In a residential area — practically anywhere except wide open roads with no stop signs or signals — driving like that usually doesn't get you there any faster. Watch. We're driving along at a safe speed and the odds are we'll catch up to that guy."

I drove us about another ten blocks until I had to stop for a light…and sure enough, right next to us was the red sports car.

For a long time after when a car zoomed past the one I was in, whether I was driving or not, I'd play that little game. I'd remember the car and see if safe-and-steady driving allowed me to catch up. It didn't all the time but it happened often enough to make the point. Alas, that was the only lesson of value I got from Mr. Break. He made driving sound difficult and deadly and I'm still not sure he wasn't secretly being paid by the Santa Monica Bus Lines to keep me as their customer.

So when I started dating at age 17, the girl had to drive. They all said they didn't mind and one lady I went out with for a while — her name was Lynne — even preferred it. She'd been on dates where she felt like a prisoner, she told me. The guy drove, took her to some faraway locale and wasn't about to take her home until he was good and ready, hint hint. It wouldn't bother me as much today but back then, making the lady drive felt wrong to me…finally so wrong that I overcame whatever it was that was holding me back. I took private lessons, got my license and while I never grew to actually enjoy the sheer act of driving the way some folks do, I quickly came to regret waiting as long as I did. I still don't really like it but I like what it does for me.

My father took the occasion of my drivers license to buy himself a new (used) car and to give me his old one. It was a 1965 Buick Skylark with the engine of a Buick Wildcat, which gave it plenty of pep. Prior to that, I got around town via my father and, when he wasn't available, public bus lines. I knew all the relevant routes and the schedules by heart and could often get from Place A to Place B in a breeze. Then again, there were the occasional slow breezes and times when it was hard to avoid crazy people. Tomorrow in this spot, I'll tell you about the one memorable, happy thing that ever happened to me on a bus.

Tavis Smiley had Dick Van Dyke on his PBS show the other night. I'm not going to embed the video here because it seems to be deathly slow and it might screw up the loading of this page. But if you'd like to see if you can play it on your computer, here's a link. Dick is on again with Craig Ferguson next Thursday.

And thank you for the 300+ messages I received overnight telling me I've won the lottery in some country I never heard of and I need to send them all my banking information to collect. I can't wait to get that money. That's better than the magic genie.

If a magic genie granted me a wish, I'd wish for a million more wishes. Then with the first of those million wishes, I'd wish for the wisdom to know how to make the other 999,999 without any of them ever backfiring on me or making me wish I'd never made them. Then with the next wish, I'd wish to have enough advance notice of my remaining wishes running out, just in case it ever did, so I could wish for some more.

And then once that was all done, I'd make my third wish, which would be for a new big screen TV.

Good night, Internet! Stay connected.

Keith Olbermann has opened up a Countdown website which will not only feature clips from his new show once it debuts but which will, he pledges, be full of web-only content. I already don't like the logo and music, and Olbermann's commentaries are getting a bit too intense and angry for me. I like a lot of what the guy says but I often don't like the way he says it…or the fact that he sometimes turns what could be a two-minute commentary into a six-minute one by rephrasing everything three times.

It's starting to look like the idea here is to turn Current TV into what right-wingers wrongly think MSNBC (and maybe even CNN) already are…although Ed Schultz may already be there.

Looks like it's about time for my annual joke about how if you need a parking space for Comic-Con International, leave now. Yes, it's hard to believe but we're less than two months from that annual gathering and, you know, for all the bitching and moaning I hear about crowds and costs and Too Much Movie Stuff, I always have a good time when I make the trek down to San Diego for one of these, as I've done every year since the first one in 19-friggin'-70. As I probably say here too often, it takes a bit of planning but just about everyone I know, including the chronic complainers, thinks it's worth it. But it's really worth it if you do a bit of prep so that you control your convention, instead of your convention controlling you. Don't go in unarmed if you know what's good for you.

Yes, I will be hosting panels and events. At the moment, the list is fifteen including all your old favorites. It'll be a while before I can announce days and room numbers.

If you have no ticket to the convention: Uh, I think you're outta luck. A few more tickets may become available but the con's been sold out for months, which you should take as a lesson to sign up earlier next time. In any case, please do not write me with your sad "I promised my sick children" tales and ask if I can get you in. You'd be amazed how many of those I get a year. I get the feeling there are some people who are adopting sick children just because they think that will get me to work some magic and get them passes. Sorry, folks. No can do.

If you have a ticket but no hotel room: I believe there are still quite a few available via the convention hotel link. They may not be across the street from the convention center and they may not be as cheap as you'd like. But it certainly is possible to procure lodging in the same time zone.

Getting back to the need to plan: Check out the convention website. It's full of useful information. Half the questions I get can be answered if the questioner would take the nine seconds it takes to look it up on that site. Make out an itinerary for your travel — when you'll go, how you'll get there, etc. Every time I travel very far these days, I do a bit of Googling and jot down the addresses and hours of restaurants I may need, a nearby drugstore and other possible necessities. When the convention programming schedule comes out — and we're at least a month from that — take the time to read it and jot down what you want to see.

And we'll have other tips, most of which will be to check out Tom Spurgeon's annual survival guide…which he should have up any day now. Gee, I'm starting to get excited just writing this.

Five years ago today, I had Gastric Bypass Surgery. It was all part of my continuing effort to persuade my stomach to withdraw to its 1967 borders.

I have not written a lot about it here in the last few years because I thought it would bore those of you who aren't considering such a procedure and it might mislead any of you who are. I really and truly had an ideal experience with no real discomforts or complications, and I don't want anyone to take the plunge, thinking they'll have as easy a time of it as I did.

I'm still in touch with a lady who had it done at the same moment and she's had a helluva time, including three follow-up surgeries and a lot of hospitalization and physical problems. Still, she says she does not regret doing it since what she would have experienced without it would have been worse…and not just because that might have included death. Others who've had it done, I'm sure, may feel they would have lived longer and happier without it.

My weight still fluctuates within about a twenty pound range which doesn't seem to have a lot to do with what I eat. It probably has more to do with how often I get up from this here computer and go out for a long walk. At the moment, I'm inching downwards. I've lost about ten in the last month. I'll go up, I'll go down but the general trajectory has been very, very slowly down. That's a bit of a disappointment after the immediate results of the surgery. I lost the first 65 pounds in the first 65 days.

Almost immediately, I began to sleep less and better. I eat less…and find that many of the foods I used to eat are no longer as appealing. High on that list is anything with a lot of sugar in it. In January of '08, my sweet tooth inexplicably disappeared and I no longer had any interest in cookies, cake, ice cream or even fruit. I am told this is not usually or even often a side effect of G.B.S. and could even be unrelated. At the same time as the pleasure from sugar disappeared, my list of acceptable beverages dropped down to water and almost nothing else. I do have the occasional protein shake and even those can't have sugar in them. Never having cared for artificial sweeteners, I use a protein drink flavored with Stevia.

I could go on and on about the health benefits of what I had done but I won't because someone reading this might become convinced to try it based on my experience…and then they might not have my experience. I've learned enough about this process to know that many, perhaps most do not. I do suggest that if it sounds like something you need, you look into it. You'll need to weigh the costs and risks and benefits, all of which may be unique to you, and then decide.

It helps an awful lot to have a great personal physician — someone you really trust — and you should go to a really good surgeon, preferably someone your physician knows and recommends. Clearly, there are a lot of doctors and clinics out there doing this procedure who should not be doing it and I'd be especially wary of those who advertise lap bands like some new cell phone rate plan. Heck, I'd be wary of those who advertise at all. But the main thing is to do the research…and then have the surgery, if you have the surgery, because you decide and not because someone nudges you into it.

All of that is, of course, common sense. So is the simple premise that if you can lose the weight without surgery, you should.

I couldn't. My physician (who sadly, is no longer my physician because he's now on special assignment, doing amazing missions for your United States Government) guided me through several attempts, then concluded they would not work for me. He had a whole technical explanation that I will muck up if I attempt to replicate it here. It had to do with my blood sugar levels and a tendency for my body to retain amounts of water that equalled the capacity of Lake Michigan.

So five years ago at this moment, I was sitting in the waiting room over at Cedars-Sinai Hospital — or as most people call it, Cedar-Sinai. I was waiting for a 10 AM surgery that didn't happen until…well, they started jointly prepping me and the lady I mentioned above around 1 PM and we went under our respective knives in adjoining operating rooms around 2. Only they didn't use knives for the serious stuff, at least with me. It was laparoscopic surgery, which means they make tiny incisions which heal invisibly. When you sign the consent form, you give them permission to switch to the old-fashioned, cut-you-open path if the presiding surgeon suddenly decides it's necessary…so when a patient awakens after, the first thing most of them ask was, "Were they able to do it laparoscopically?"

That's apparently not what I asked. A nurse in the recovery room told me I asked, "Can we send out for pizza?" That sounds like me and I'm sure I meant it as a joke.

But this kind of surgery is not a joke. It's pretty darned serious, which is why I never want to encourage anyone to do more than look into it…and to not trust just anyone who's available or affordable. And like I said, if you can drop a hundred or more pounds without it, by all means go that route. I have only envy for those who can do it themselves.

Roger Ebert explains why some movies don't look the way they oughta in movie theaters.

Since at least the late sixties, the actress Debbie Reynolds has been working on this idea of a Hollywood Museum — a big building somewhere that would house props and costumes from classic films. She did a great job rounding up things that you'd want in a museum like that but somehow, the museum has never happened and all those treasures of the cinema were languishing in warehouses or somewhere far from public access.

Next month, the Profiles in History auction house will sell off a pretty large chunk of the collection for her including things like Judy Garland's dress and shoes from The Wizard of Oz, Marilyn Monroe's famous dress from The Seven Year Itch and (seen above) a hat and wig that Ms. Reynolds acquired directly from Mr. Harpo Marx. I'm not sure she's said the words, "I'm giving up on ever opening the museum of my dreams" but given the important stuff she's letting go, that would be a safe assumption. If she sells off what she's selling off, the rarest item that could wind up in a museum would be something like Dustin Hoffman's arch supports from Ishtar.

I can't afford anything they're selling and neither can you…but it sure is interesting stuff to look at. They're selling the catalog for $39.50 but I know where you can download a PDF file of the whole thing. You can download it here. Happy browsing.