Comic-Con International 2022 is scheduled for July 21-24 (with a Preview Night on 7/20) at the San Diego Convention Center. I passed on their "Special Edition" last Thanksgiving, on WonderCon 2022 in Anaheim a few weeks ago and on the smaller, more intimate San Diego Comic Fest this past weekend.  While folks who attended these seem to have had a great time, I feel like I made the correct choices for me. Barring an unexpected surge of something contagious, I plan to be at the Comic-Con in San Diego in July. And assuming I can corral the right personnel to be on them, I intend to host Cartoon Voices Panels and Quick Draw! and most of the usual events I host there. I hope.

Some of you may be thinking, "Well, Mark's been to every one of the big San Diego Comic Cons…he doesn't want to break his streak." That matters to me less than you might imagine. Not coming down with a disease that has actually killed people I know…or caused some to go through the agony of having it…that matters more.

The first of the annual gatherings we now know as Comic-Con International was a one-day "test" con held at the U.S. Grant Hotel on March 21, 1970. An estimated 75 people turned out for it but it was considered a success and led to more. I was not among that estimated 75.

The first "Golden State Comic Con" (that's what they called it) was August 1–3 of that year. My friends Steve Sherman, Gary Sherman, Bruce Simon and I went down there for Saturday. Steve drove. We had a great time…and not the slightest inkling of what that event would turn into. No one did except for one of that year's Guests of Honor, a man named Jack Kirby.  Boy, did he call it.

Thereafter, I attended every year — and for a time, every day of the con. It grew, it changed locations and it changed names. In '72, it was San Diego's West Coast Comic Convention and in '73, it became the San Diego Comic-Con. Since 1995, it has been Comic-Con International, though I still see people abbreviate that as "S.D.C.C." That includes people who weren't there (or alive) when those really were its initials.

At some point in the eighties, I began to lose enough interest in the event that I began skipping the first day and/or most of the last. There are many reasons why people love being at that event and I found that fewer and fewer were applying to me. For instance, a lot of people go to find and acquire copies of old comic books they love. Around '85, I more or less decided that any old comic book I loved but didn't have wasn't worth the amount of money I would have had to pay for it.

Some people go to buy new books and merchandise. I wasn't buying a lot of that stuff there…and even when I did, I didn't need to be there four days to buy what I was going to buy.

Some people love to see previews of upcoming TV shows and movies. No interest. If I want to see something, I'd rather see it all at once instead of in preview increments.

Some people go seeking employment or business contacts.  I had enough of them then.  In fact, I found that I enjoyed the con more when I didn't go to it to conduct business.

Some people go to meet people whose work they love.  That was a big thing for me at one point.  At San Diego Cons, I got to spend time with — just to name a few — Harvey Kurtzman, Will Elder, John Buscema, Gene Colan, James F. Davis (The "Fox and Crow" guy), Charles Schulz, Al Williamson, Marie Severin, John Severin, Mort Drucker and many others. And of course, the problem with that motive is that I ran out of people I wanted to meet.

Among those of us who work in comics, there are folks who make money at the con selling their work. I hope some day if/when I need the dough, I can get comfortable doing that but I'm just not. No criticism is implied of those who do. I kind of envy them in a way.

I always enjoyed myself at the con but as I'm trying to explain here, there was this period when I was starting to have moments of boredom and I began paring back the number of days I spent at one, especially when I was attending stag because whatever lady I then had in my life wasn't interested in being at a comic book convention. Then three things changed that…

One was that I had companions who did want to be there. Another was that the convention was asking me to host more and more panels. I think I got up to sixteen one year and those were almost all fun.

And the third one, and this may have been the most important to me, was that I began to view the convention in a different light. I began to feel it wasn't about helping my career or satisfying old nostalgic needs or enlarging my collection. I decided that it was worth going to for me just to spend 4+ days being among so many happy and/or creative people.  At a time when I often feel surrounded by people who complain-complain-complain, it's invigorating to be around human beings — even if some of them are dressed like monsters — having the time of their lives.

I will write more about this in the coming weeks. For now, I'll make it simple: I love being at Comic-Con because I love being at Comic-Con. I'm really looking forward to being back at it again.

Back here, I told you about Stu's Show — not the twice-a-month online TV show in which my buddy Stu Shostak interviews folks involved in the history of television but rather, a new documentary by filmmaker C.J. Wallis. It's about Stu and his show but it's also about his friendship/employment with Lucille Ball…and it's about how classic television brought him together with the love of his life…and it's especially about how he and his friends helped save the life of the love of his life.

These storylines all weave together into a fascinating tale involving a lot of folks who appeared in the TV shows that Stu's program celebrates. The list includes (in alphabetical order) Ed Asner, Michael Cole, Tony Dow, me, Jimmy Garrett, Robert Illes, Geri Jewell, Ken Levine, Stanley Livingstone, Randal Malone, Wink Martindale, Margaret O'Brien, Butch Patrick, Jon Provost, Jeannie Russell, Beverly Washburn and Randy West.

I told you that the film would be available for online viewing on all major streaming services and pay-per-view points next week and that's true. But it turns out it's available for pre-order right now on iTunes. Here's the link for those of you who can't wait. Despite my presence in it, I think you'll enjoy it.

Eons ago here, I recommended a book called Raised Eyebrows by my pal Steve Stoliar. Many of you took that recommendation, bought it, loved it and now that book is about to become (as they say) "A major motion picture." With Gilbert Gottfried no longer available to play Groucho Marx in his later years, the producers have engaged Geoffrey Rush…and I don't know about you but I think that's great casting.

I won't take all the credit for that movie sale but I will recommend Steve's latest book. It's called Salamis and Swastikas and it's subtitled "Letters Home From a G.I. Jew." The Jew in question was Staff Sergeant David E. Stoliar, father of Steve, and the letters were penned by the elder Stoliar while serving in World War II. He wrote them to his wife and to Steve's sister from North Africa, Italy, France, Germany, England and other places where The Face of War was there to be described…and amazingly, he also found much in the way of hope and humor to write about, as well.

Steve has collected the letters, penned a fine commentary to them and added in a bevy of photos to help capture that period in his father's life. And now that you're eager to get your mitts on a copy, I will tell you that you have two options. Order it here from Amazon or order it on Steve's website and he'll autograph it to you…or to no one. Whatever you pick, you'll enjoy the experience.

I was going to get off the subject of "Sweet Caroline" but F.O.T.S. Steve Montal sent me this link and it's too good not to post. It's Smokey Robinson and a star-studded crowd saluting Neil Diamond at the Kennedy Center Honors in 2011 — and someone had a real good idea for a little surprise…

• It's so frustrating. Every time I try to bid on something lately, Elon Musk snipes in and takes it away from me.

John Oliver is off this week but he left us this very long Web Exclusive about a movie I didn't see and you probably didn't see but hell, I'll watch anything this man does…

• Rick Caruso is running for Mayor of Los Angeles and promising to solve the homeless problem, the crime problem and Climate Change. Which he could easily do if he just spent the money he's spent so far trying to get my vote.

The brilliant painter James Bama has left us just days shy of what would have been his 94th birthday. A master of the super-realism school of art, Bama grew up wanting to be a comic strip artist — Alex Raymond's Flash Gordon was a major inspiration — but he made a strange turn. His art skills led him into painting, mostly for paperback book covers and advertising art.

Lovers of comics knew his work though, particularly for the box art for the Aurora monster models (and certain other depictions of the classic Universal Studios monsters) and for his 60+ covers for the Doc Savage novels. The man excelled at both monstrous figures and heroic ones, as well. Eventually, he also became an accomplished illustrator of western imagery and many placed him as high in that category as any other artist.

It is difficult to overstate his influence on the field. I never met an illustrator who didn't cite him as an inspiration, especially in his command of lighting and body language. You can look over racks of paperback books of the sixties and seventies and see dozens of artists who clearly aspired to be him, especially because that's what so many publishers wanted. The obits haven't started being published yet but when they are, you'll see others talking about his enormous talent and impact.

The blog will soon venture away from topic of Neil Diamond and his audience singing "Sweet Caroline" but we have two matters to cover before we do. The first of these is a note I got from my pal Tom Hensley, who played keyboard in Mr. Diamond's band for a long, long time. If any of you are sick of hearing "Sweet Caroline," imagine how many times Tom heard (and played) it…

I enjoyed your account of ND's appearance for the post-bombing game. He told us about that the day it occurred. The above photo is from 2008. The owner and mascot flew out to L.A. and visited our pre-tour rehearsal on a sound stage, where we made a video of, what else, "Sweet Caroline," for them to show on opening day at Fenway, when they announced that we would be doing a show there during our tour. Tickets for the Fenway show sold out that day.

The show itself was in August, and I snapped a picture of the scoreboard that day, with Neil's name notably seen. Also, the prescient ad on the scoreboard, from a time when COVID wasn't a loaded word. I don't remember the number of times we did "Sweet Caroline" during that show, but it was far above the recommended daily dose.

We played Boston many times over the years, but this was a memorable one.

Thanks, Tom. It must have been wonderful to have a job that was (a) so steady and (b) involved playing to such appreciative audiences.

Then: F.O.T.S. (Follower of This Site) Jon Reeves suggested I post this. I have long been a fan/follower of John Green and Hank Green, two brothers and authors who post frequent videos in which they converse and talk about not only their writing but a great many humanitarian causes with which they are involved. I've posted a few of their videos in the past.

This is Hank discussing something they did on one of their tours. They played "Sweet Caroline" but requested that the audience not sing along. The video explains why…

I think that's kind of wonderful in its way. And one other thing: To Hank and (I assume) John and to many (most?) of those in the audience, the line they interject after the singer sings "Sweet Caroline" is "Bah-bah-bah." But that's not what Mr. Diamond intended, at least when this phenomenon began.

Here's a video of him performing it in 2002 in front of a stadium packed with seventy jillion people. He sings the song and then he does an encore in which he asks his audience to join in…and as you'll hear at 4:10 into the video, what he asks them to sing is "Whoa-whoa-whoa."

So how did "Whoa-whoa-whoa" turn into "Bah-bah-bah?" Beats the heck outta me. One of those mysteries for the ages…like whatever happened to the Robot Fred Flintstone. We may have some new information about that Scientific Marvel here in the next few days.

The other day here, I linked to a video of Neil Diamond leading a very happy audience in the singing of his song, "Sweet Caroline." This brought a message from my buddy Tom Galloway…

Oddly enough, nine years ago yesterday (4/20/13), Diamond did what was probably his most significant "Sweet Caroline" performance.

As you probably recall, a few days before that date was the bombing of the Boston Marathon. As you probably don't know, it's long been a tradition for a recording of "Sweet Caroline" to be played and sung along with during the eighth inning of Boston Red Sox home games. The 20th was the first Sox home game to be played post-bombing.

Before the game, Sox star David Ortiz, whose nickname was Big Papi, said a few words that completely guaranteed he'd never again have to pay for a drink or meal in Boston, ending with "This is our fucking city, and nobody gonna dictate our freedom. Stay strong, thank you." (The head of the FCC promptly tweeted "David Ortiz spoke from the heart at today's Red Sox game. I stand with Big Papi and the people of Boston"; no fines or anything for saying the f-word during a widely televised event)

But then came the 8th inning. This guy in a Red Sox cap walks out on the field with a microphone. And is introduced as Neil Diamond.

He proceeded to sing along with the usual recording. The Sox had no idea he was coming; he'd spontaneously decided the night before in L.A. to fly to Boston on his own and make the offer. About an hour before the game started, the Sox office got a phone call saying something like "Hi, this is Neil Diamond. I'm right outside Fenway Park and wondered if I could sing 'Sweet Caroline' during the game?"

The bombing itself, and subsequent events including the killing of MIT Police officer Sean Collier by the bombers, were of course horrible. However, as a former Bostonian, I was and am tremendously proud of how the city, area, and its people reacted and responded to it. Even the request by the police that during the final dragnet of an otherwise locked down suburb that caught the bombers that the local Dunkin Donuts stay open for them. That was just so Boston all around.

I had never heard that story but thanks, Tom. (And Tom also sent me this link to Diamond's own account of the event which led me to the video of it I've embedded below.)

I need to point this out every so often: Sometimes when you come to this blog, it may appear to you that the embedded videos are in all the wrong places; that my intro to one of them leads into a different one. Every once in a rare while, I actually make that mistake. But if they all seem to be wrong, the problem is on your end. You need to flush out the cache on your browser.

The cache is where your browser stores downloaded data and text and files and stuff. Once in a while, they get clogged with Too Much Information. They aren't purging themselves properly and become confused as to what goes where, especially with websites that you visit repeatedly. This is true to varying degrees with every browser — Safari, Microsoft Edge, Mozilla Firefox, Google Chrome, Opera, etc. You should know how to do this manually with your browser. If you don't, this might help.

Two great musical moments from the career of Robert Morse. First, the big save-the-day number from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. I saw this song on stage when Morse did a revival tour of the show in the seventies. It was one of those moments when the audience had trouble remaining in its seats and we all wanted to get up and dance in the aisles. The choreography here was adapted from the original staging by Bob Fosse…

And now here's Morse many years later, near the end of his stellar career, in a sequence from the show, Mad Men. His character has died in the series but, hey, everyone deserves one encore. As a couple different folks wrote me, he had the cool, clear eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth…

• CNN+ lasted one month. That's one week less than the shortest-run TV show I ever worked on.

The few times I got to speak with Robert Morse, I knew enough to not mention How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. It was the show (and movie) that really put him on the map and I did see him do it in a revival tour once and he was sensational. But I figured, "Everybody talks to him about that" and I thought he might appreciate that someone was aware of what else he'd done.

So I steered the conversation to The Loved One, which was one of the greatest "dark" comedy movies ever made. And I steered it to A Guide for the Married Man, which was like the quintessential, now-kinda-sexist sixties comedy film. And we talked about That's Life!, a short-lived ABC series that amazingly managed to present an original hour-long musical comedy every week.

And I asked him about things he'd done that I hadn't seen…like the Broadway show of Take Me Along. He was the juvenile lead and all through rehearsals and try-outs, his part kept getting whittled down because Jackie Gleason was the marquee star. Mr. Gleason was not about to let the reviews say that a young unknown stole the show from him…but it didn't work because they said that anyway. And I asked him about Tru, his then-recent Broadway triumph playing Truman Capote, which I wish I'd seen.

Mr. Morse was charming and engaging and very pleased to talk about all those other achievements. I suppose if I'd run into him more recently, he'd have been pleased that someone talked to him about gigs other than How to Succeed or Mad Men. It wasn't hard to do because he was terrific in so many things.

• I wish the mask mandate had been ended by an expert on communicable diseases on the grounds that it was no longer necessary instead of by a judge on the grounds that she had the power to end it.