Category Archives: Unclassifiable

My longtime pal Bruce Reznick sent me this link to an article about the origins of Frankenberry and Count Chocula, which are among the few sugary cereals I never ate as a kid. There was a time when I tried each new Kellogg's or Big "G" product as it came out and each time decided that while the box might be more exciting and the prize might be more enticing, the cereal itself wasn't as good as Sugar Frosted Flakes…or even Cheerios if I dumped enough table sugar on them. Years later, I had one spoonful of Count Chocula and decided that contrary to all my expectations, it was possible for something to have too much chocolate in it. I didn't even feel that way about a Hershey Bar but the cereal was an overdose.

Every time I see those cereals though, I flash back on one memory. Here — I'll share it with you…

Back in the sixties, the members of our illustrious Comic Book Club were occasional visitors to the "Ackermansion," which was the home of Forrest J Ackerman, editor of Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine and all-around science-fiction fan/agent/guru. Mr. Ackerman was very nice to us and he welcomed our club, as he welcomed so many, into a dwelling festooned with memorabilia and collectables from the history of s-f and monster movies. Everywhere you looked, there were pictures of Chaney, pictures of Lugosi, etc. The Vatican probably displays fewer images of Christ Almighty than Mr. Ackerman had around of Boris Karloff. (This was not, by the way, the Ackermansion in Los Feliz, which many folks reading this perhaps visited. I went there too but this was the previous Ackermansion, the one on Sherbourne just adjacent to Beverly Hills.)

We were all fond of Forry (as he asked us to call him) to some extent but found him and his home a little creepy, perhaps by design. We were kids and he was an adult with an actual job…but we didn't take our fannish obsessions to quite that level. And we joked about Forry…not to his face, of course, but we'd say things like, "Hey, did you hear? Forry Ackerman went to see Richard Burton in Hamlet and he walked out on it because there were no monsters in it!" One of our club members did a very funny impression of Forry touring the Louvre and asking everyone, "But why aren't there any pictures of monsters?"

So one morning around 11 AM, we're going over to Forry's to talk to him about something and as we're walking towards the front door, I say to my friends, "He's probably sitting in his kitchen eating Count Chocula and saying, 'This is great stuff! At last, they finally made a monster cereal!'" My friends and I all howled at this, then Ackerman's assistant answered the door and let us in. He steered us towards the kitchen and we walked in there…

…and there was Ackerman sitting at the breakfast table, eating a big bowl of Frankenberry with the box next to him. He looked up at us and said, "This is delicious! I'm so glad they finally made a monster cereal!"

Well, we just laughed for about the next hour.

Forry didn't quite understand why we were falling over in hysterics, leaning on each other for support, and why we couldn't say two words to him without launching into additional spasms of laughter. He finally decided he'd said something very witty and he enjoyed the audience response. Then about the time we got it under control, he opened up a kitchen cabinet where he had about six boxes each of Frankenberry and Count Chocula and he said, "Would any of you like to join me in a bowl?" Whereupon we laughed for another ten minutes.

I liked Forry Ackerman in spite of that and a few questionable business dealings in which he tried to involve me. But to this day, that moment with the Frankenberry is my most vivid memory of the man…and I can't look at a box of either cereal without giggling.

I spent half of yesterday fixing websites and half working on Groo. What do these two jobs have in common? Neither one will ever be perfect, I'll probably have to do both of them next week and they pay about the same. But it is nice that this blog hasn't had a hostile takeover for something like sixteen hours. Let's see how long it lasts.

A number of you wrote about my comment that Sammy Davis Jr. was half-Jewish. I didn't mean it by dictionary definition. That's just the way it was always phrased when it was discussed on TV, and I think Sammy even put it that way. If you want to argue the point, dig up Joey Bishop and discuss it with him.

Several of you wrote to ask about the secret, forbidden screening I attended in the early seventies of Animal Crackers. I wrote about it here.

And by the way, if you'd like your copy of Steve Stoliar's book autographed, he sells them that way at his website.

Last night on his show, Jay Leno had Janet Jackson on and somehow allowed her to turn her entire spot into an infomerical for Nutri-System. Somehow, no matter what he asked her, the answer to every question included a recommendation of Nutri-System. Johnny would never have let a guest get away with that.

I think that's about all I have right now. I'm going to post a video link, go to bed and hope this site is here in the morning. Good night, Internet.

Several folks sent me the link to this article by Larry Downes about why the Best Buy chain may soon go the way of the passenger pigeon, the dodo bird, Egghead Software, The Good Guys, Circuit City and Michele Bachmann's candidacy. It's all a piece with what I've written about here in the past when Egghead, Good Guys and Circuit City went under. They couldn't survive because no one there knew anything. (Come to think of it, that probably applies to Bachmann, too.)

In my visits to Best Buy, as with the other similar-type places that sold electronics and computers, I've always been stunned by how little the staff knows about what they're selling. It's not hard to imagine the reason. All the marketing surveys and studies that management does must tell them that the number one thing customers care about is price. So to get prices down as low as possible, they pay their sales crew as little as possible…which means that folks who know stuff don't stick around. The last time I was in a Best Buy, I asked the manager (the manager, mind you) of the computer department which of the external hard drives they sold had eSATA connections. He looked at me with those "first season" Barney Rubble eyes of his and asked, "What's eSATA?" I was going to suggest he go Google it but I was afraid he'd ask me, "What's Google?"

Yeah, there's a logic to trying to get prices down. The problem is that's a contest that brick-and-mortar retailers are never going to win. It will always be cheaper to buy something if you search the Internet. Where places like Best Buy might be able to compete is in offering what you can't get buying from Amazon: Someone to talk to.

I remember back when I was buying a lot of electronics, my main source was an outlet of Good Guys over on La Cienega that was open 24 hours. I'd go in there at 2 AM or 3 AM and there were always people in the story and half the time, one of them was Ben Stein being somewhat brusque to some salesperson. In spite of that, I bought there for two reasons. One was the power of immediate acquisition. I could walk out with the item instead of waiting days for a U.P.S. guy. In fact, I could take it home, decide it was wrong and return it before an Amazon order could have arrived. Good Guys, unlike Best Buy in the article, was real good at exchanges.

The other reason was that they had a guy there named Ron, and Ron really knew computers and TVs and digital cameras and all the kinds of things I was buying. I could tell him what I was looking for and he'd show me three or four products and give me the pros and cons of each. He'd show me how to operate something and there were a couple of times when I got my purchase home, then called him up at the store at 4 AM to ask a question about installation.

The last time I bought from him was on what he told me was his last day there. Even with the commissions on all the stuff I'd bought including a big screen TV, he wasn't making enough to stay in that job. The next time I went in there, the salesguy I got didn't know which ink cartridges went with which of the printers they sold. When I figured out the right kind, they were out of them but the fellow thought they might be getting more in, next week. Or the week after. Or maybe the week after that. So much for the joys of Immediate Acquistion.

If I'm going to get that kind of service, I might as well buy on the Internet. It's cheaper, they usually have what I want in stock and someone brings it to my doorstep in three days. So while I might miss Ron, I don't miss Good Guys and I'm not going to miss Best Buy. I have a feeling I'm not going to be missing Best Buy very soon.

The best New York Times correction in history.

Drew Friedman is one of the best caricaturists working today…and he's just as good at collecting posters from Dick Van Dyke movies.

My one-time writing partner Dennis Palumbo is now a licensed psychotherapist. Hmm…I drove him to that. Well, if I did, he should be grateful because he's very successful in this profession…though it's one that is often not depicted in a favorable light in films and television. He discusses this situation for Psychology Today.

The Making of…The Statue of Liberty!

Hey! You know who lived at 141 S. Carolwood in Holmby Hills? A lot of interesting people.

When I get the time, I'm going to write a post about a not-far-away Hollywood mansion that I got to visit often when I was younger. I have since learned who lived there once upon a time and I should have been a lot more impressed to be swimming in that pool and walking around those grounds.

Take a look at Punctuation Marks You Never Knew Existed!

I don't like salespersons or survey-takers who phone me. I will never buy anything from a stranger who calls me out of the blue and the few times I have ever answered questions on that basis, it's because I believed the caller really was from a major polling company like Gallup. I especially don't want to answer questions from survey-takers because I figure they're calling to build up a profile on me…and that profile will be used somehow to try and sell me things I don't want.

Sometimes, I immediately ask the caller, "Is the last question about how much money this household makes?" Because they always want to know that and they usually hide it at the end. I'm not going to answer their questions either way but if that question's in there, I'm especially not going to answer their questions.

The other day, a lady phoned and told me she was conducting a "brief survey" and would just need a few minutes of my time. Before I could ask her about the last question, she said, "For every survey that is completed, a donation will be made to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation"…which I believe is no longer even the name of that organization. So instantly I suspect they might not really be dealing in any way with the Foundation or maybe they're keeping in the word "cancer" to ratchet up the sympathy. I asked the lady, "How much?" and from there on, it went pretty much like this. To her credit, she started giggling about halfway through…

HER: I beg your pardon?

ME: You said that for every completed survey, a donation is made to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. How large a donation will you be making if I answer your questions?

HER: Uh, does it matter?

ME: Sure it matters. If I'm being encouraged to answer your survey because it will mean money for a worthy cause, I'd like to know how much they get. How much is it?

HER: I'm not sure…

ME: Well, is it more than five dollars?

HER: Oh, I doubt it's that much…

ME: Four dollars? Three? Let's try it the other way. Do you think it's more than a dime?

HER: I'm sorry. I don't have that information.

ME: A nickel? A penny? I don't think you should be able to make it sound like you're making a real donation if it's just a penny.

HER: Sir, I think I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions here. Anyway, they don't tell us that.

ME: Oh? You want me to answer all your questions but you can't answer even one of mine? How about this? What's your name? Or is that another one of the things they don't tell you?

HER: My name is Diane.

ME: Diane. Okay, we're getting somewhere. Now, where are you located, Diane?

HER: I'm in Raleigh, North Carolina. About the survey…

ME: Is there anyone there in Raleigh you could ask? Someone who could tell you what kind of donation is made to the Susan G. Komen Foundation if I answer your questions?

HER: No, I work at home. They give us the questions to ask and they give us this software for the computer that dials the numbers and they give us a thing called a MagicJack that makes the calls free…

ME: I understand. Okay, I won't waste any more of your time, Diane. But tell me…this survey. Is the last question on it about how much money I make?

HER: Uh…how much your household makes.

ME: Good. Because now I know I'm not going to answer your questions no matter how much money is donated to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. But I'll tell you what I will do. Because you were nice enough to answer as many of my questions as you could, I'm going to make a donation to the Susan G. Komen Foundation on your behalf.

HER: Really? How much?

ME: I'm sorry. I don't have that information.

I've been getting a lot of "survey" calls lately and an unprecedented number of calls from folks who, though my number is on the "Do Not Call" list, phone to try and sell me stuff. It finally dawned on me why I'm getting more of these than ever. It's the economy, stupid. So many people are outta work…or not making ends meet with the jobs they do have. They see all these ads that say "Make $100 an hour from home" and they wind up making calls on some sort of commission basis linked to eventual sales.

I'm guessing Diane made little or nothing calling me but if I'd answered all those questions…and if that info enabled someone else working a commission deal for the same outfit to sell me something…then Diane might have seen some bucks from that sale. And call me cynical but I somehow don't think the Susan G. Komen Foundation lost out on real money because I declined to participate.

Thinking it over, I'm kinda sorry I gave her a hard time. The nicer thing to do would have been to end the call as quickly as possible so she could get on to the next number on her list. And I'm wondering if when they tote up the unemployment stats if Diane (assuming she has no other job) counts as unemployed or not. I had a friend who in a moment of jobless desperation, took a "position" calling offices on a list to see if he could get them to order toner for the office copier. If they did, he got a cut. Most, of course, did not and my friend sometimes put in a 60 hour week on the phone and grossed $40 — well under minimum wage. Do we call that a job? I guess for some people these days, it is…

I heard from an awful lot of folks about the definition of a decade. Quite a few of you asserted, and I don't think you're wrong, that a decade can be any ten consecutive years. True…but when someone writes that we're starting a new decade or they speak of the end of an old decade, that's not the definition they're using. That news story about twins who were born in separate decades was presuming that decades were rigidly-defined groupings. If you're going to speak of a time as a series of ten-year units, there seems to be a lot of wiggle room as to whether we just ended the 2000-2009 decade or if we're in the last year of the 2001-2010 decade.

And a pretty large number of e-mails arrived telling me that one can hear Esperanto in the movie Incubus (1965) starring William Shatner. There you have two very good reasons not to seek out the movie Incubus.