Mom's a lot better and things are returning to normal, thank you. It's been a couple of rough days, and I thank those of you who sent encouraging messages, especially those that said, "No need to respond." I don't know how in one week, I could slip three weeks behind on everything I'm doing, but I somehow managed.

I continue to battle many bureaucracies to make sure she has the treatment and equipment she needs…and the last few days, this has required an ungodly number of phone calls, waiting on "hold" and then finding out that I have waited 15+ minutes for a call which ultimately connects with the wrong person.

By this, I mean that someone says, "You'll have to speak to Mr. Jones in our Glendale office about that. I'll transfer you." And then they transfer me and I wait and wait and wait, only to eventually have my call answered by Ms. Smith in the Van Nuys office who has nothing to do with my issue. Twice, I have been given phone numbers to call, only to have the numbers turn out to be of the non-working variety. In both cases, this meant starting all over with dialing the main number. (I've learned to ask people if they can give a direct number to get back to them in case we're disconnected or I am wrongly routed. In most cases, they cannot.)

I've also encountered bizarre applications of the principles of medical confidentiality. At the hospital where my mother stayed for several days, the medical personnel will tell me absolutely anything I want to know about her condition, medication, treatment, etc., merely because I call up and say I'm her son. The accounting people, however, will not tell me how much her co-payments will be because they can only release that information to the patient.

What I've had to do in the last week has not been impossible but it's been very time-consuming and annoying. I keep wondering about patients who don't have someone else to make these calls. A person could not recover from a serious illness and spend hours on the phone straightening out mistakes and omissions. It is possible to get good health care in this country but too often, it involves someone staying on top of the situation and making certain that what's supposed to be done is done when it's supposed to be done.

The doctors and nurses have all been wonderful but the folks who juggle schedules and push papers are either less than competent or they've been plugged into a dysfunctional system. Today on the phone, a nice lady told me that someone had wrongly cancelled a certain appointment. Her computer did not allow her to uncancel it, nor could it tell us who had cancelled it and/or who had the power to reinstate it. It took me around 20 minutes (19 of them on "hold") to locate that person and practically threaten them into overriding procedure and making things right.

Hey, here's a cute little story I have to share with you: Very early Thursday morning, I was in the Emergency Room at U.C.L.A. Medical Center with my mother…and I must say, she received superb treatment. Everyone was nice and efficient and, well, if you absolutely have to be in such a place, that's the place.

My mother was on a gurney surrounded by one of those flimsy curtains they have in hospitals. Next to us, there was another gurney with another woman on it, and I could not help but overhear what was transpiring over there. The lady, who was maybe sixty, had been brought in with some sort of balance problem — an inner ear disorder, I believe I heard the doctor say. Whatever it was, she could not stand without falling. She had fallen twenty-four times in as many hours, and was clinging to that gurney for precious life.

The doctor — same one who treated my mother — was a charming, authoritative man. He looked like Pernell Roberts, sans toup and spoke like Ricardo Montalban, sans accent. Having treated her and decreed that the problem was gone, he asked her to stand. She was too scared to do this. "I'll fall over," she said.

He assured her she would not. A male intern came over and the doctor promised that they'd stand on either side of her and prevent her from falling. She refused. He promised her there was no way she could fall. She said no, she couldn't. The doctor told her she couldn't stay there on that gurney forever. She didn't answer. She just clutched the side of the gurney and held on, tight and trembling.

Calmly, and with a disarming friendly manner, he engaged her in conversation. Where was she from? What did she do? Did she have any hobbies? Two minutes into this chat, she happened to mention that she'd once been a champion ballroom dancer.

The doctor brightened. "Oh, it's been so long since I've danced with someone who really knows how. Would you dance with me?"

The woman looked at him (I assume — I was just listening) like he was nuts. "D-dance with you? Here?"

He said, "Why not? Just a few steps. Do it for me…please."

I don't know if it was because he was so charming or because he was a doctor but, sure enough, the woman slowly turned loose of the gurney and allowed him to help her to her feet. Within moments, I could see them dancing around the small amount of open space in the Emergency Room. There was no music, of course, but the doctor hummed and they waltzed about for maybe a minute.

Just as I was about to ask if I could cut in, the doctor stepped lightly away from her, leaving her standing there…on her feet, in full possession of her balance. If you'd seen the expression on this woman's face — tears of joy as she realized she was not falling — you'd have witnessed one big reason why people become doctors.

I have to get back to work. On my breaks, I'm catching up on websites I routinely read so I'll probably post some links here tonight.

And another round of apologies for not posting anything here lately. I'm dealing with an unhealthy mother and an even less healthy company that is supposed to provide certain home health services for her. Or at least, I was dealing with them, which meant endless hours (hours, plural) on the phone, being placed for long periods on "hold" before I could reach what, nine times out of ten turned out to be the wrong person. And don't you just love hearing over and over again, a cheery voice telling you, "We know your time is important so someone will be with you as soon as possible"? They play classical music while you're waiting and I think in the last few days, I've heard the combined works of Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Mozart, Handel, Hayden and P.D.Q. Bach.

It's amazing, simply amazing, that a major company has their phones configured so that it takes 38 minutes just to reach a human being. That's how long my first call to them took…and the person I finally did reach was of no help whatsoever.

Even more amazing is that this is a firm that supplies medical supplies to people who need them to survive. You wouldn't tolerate this service from an outfit that delivers pizza…and oxygen is almost as vital. After a day or so of receiving endless apologies but no change in behavior, I think I've blown off the Big Name health services provider (which shall remain nameless) and moved its responsibilities to a small, three-person outfit where the three people answer their phones and one of them is coming over later with the equipment. True, my mother's health insurance won't pay for the small outfit — I will — but at least she's going to get what the doctors say she needs.

Past experience has shown me that when I post something like this, I get a lot of e-mails from people who say, "Oh, how true," and they tell me the story of the lousy service they received last October. Please, since I'm so far behind on everything, save those tales for another time. I don't think we should be entertaining one another with them. I think we should be sending them where they might do some good. I've been complaining — loudly and forcefully — to various execs at the company in question, plus I'm talking to a lady with something called the Joint Commission of Accreditation of Health Care Organizations. (I don't guarantee I got that name right.) She phoned me because a doctor-friend I called for advice phoned her, and she said that one of the reasons companies can get away with such shoddy service is that there's so little downside for them. Folks like us simply don't complain enough. I intend to do my share.

I'll be back in a day or so. Just as soon as I get things straightened out.

Didn't post anything yesterday and this may be it for today. Briefly, I'm inundated with other matters, which also explains why so many e-mails are languishing in the "To Be Answered" folder. My apologies. I made time for the obit of Zeke Zekley because…well, he was Zeke Zekley. Other affaires d' blog have to wait.

It may be a few days before I'm back to regular posting. When I am, I'll comment on reports that Stan Lee's settled his lawsuit with Marvel. I'll tell a little story about when I worked with the late Mason Adams. I'll answer some questions I've received about the Writers Guilds lawsuits and respond to some comments about my piece on Al Franken's past and why it may not matter.

In the meantime, here's a link to Frank Rich's weekend column, here's one to a piece that says Arnold Schwarzenegger is becoming as unpopular as the guy he replaced…and here's one to a piece on the ruination of Cookie Monster. That's right: I typed Cookie Monster…one of the greatest TV stars of all time. Or at least, he used to be.

Lastly, here's a link to something rather amazing. Go read Kevin Drum about how the U.S. military issued a report last week that was full of redactions…but put it out in a PDF format which allows anyone with Adobe Reader (which is, like, 85% of all Internet travellers) to read the redactions. Drum doesn't seem to know if the redactions are of important data but you've got to figure it this way: If they are, then whoever censored this document then released it is a chowderhead. And if they aren't, then whoever censored this document is restricting our access to information that we have every right to know…and is a chowderhead. The latter possibility reminds me of Jack Anderson's old claim that of all the information in Washington that is marked "Classified" or "Top Secret," 75% is withheld for no reason whatsoever, and another 20% is so designated because someone's trying to hide the fact that they screwed up and/or broke the law.

A great cartoonist named Zeke Zekley died yesterday at the age of 90, and others in his field are sadly phoning one another to ask, "Have you heard?" Zeke was born in Chicago on February 11, 1915 and grew up in Detroit. His first cartooning job was at age 18 for the Detroit Mirror which, he used to joke, promptly went out of business. He freelanced for a time, then moved to California where he quickly got a job at Disney…only to be laid off two weeks later when the studio shut down for the summer. Broke and desperate for work, he happened to be doodling on the tablecloth in a restaurant one night when a man noticed his work and introduced himself as the brother of George McManus.

McManus was one of America's most widely-read cartoonists with his newspaper strip, Bringing Up Father, and he was in desperate need of an assistant. Zeke was quickly hired and the two men became close friends, with Zeke eventually drawing and even writing more of Jiggs and Maggie than McManus. (Well into his eighties, Zeke was still able to draw those characters in a manner most would find indistinguishable from their maker.)

Zeke worked with McManus for years and it was assumed that when McManus died or retired, Zeke would take complete control of the strip. This did not happen. In 1954, McManus died and King Features Syndicate elected to give the job to an outsider — a move that was unpopular with other strip cartoonists and which caused some of them to make contractual demands about who would take over their strips after they passed away.

Zeke recovered from the disappointment and went on to create his own strip for the McNaught Syndicate — a Blondie clone called Dud Dudley. More than a few people could not remember if the comic strip character Dud Dudley was drawn by cartoonist Zeke Zekley or if the comic strip character Zeke Zekley was drawn by cartoonist Dud Dudley. Either way, the strip only lasted a year, which was a shame since it was one of the cleverest of the many strips that attempted to emulate the success of Blondie and Dagwood. Zeke tried a few others — Peachy Keen and a panel called Popsie — which also never caught on.

After that, Zeke devoted most of his energy to his own company, Sponsored Comics, which produced comic books for commercial and advertising purposes. He produced comics that were given out at McDonald's and at regional stores, and many other venues. For a time, he handled PS Magazine, the Army's semi-educational book that Will Eisner had done for years.

Zeke was a great guy, generous with his time and talents. He employed a great many cartoonists but was not above sitting down at the board and drawing or lettering pages himself. Funeral services will be held on Monday afternoon in Los Angeles. Drop me a note if you'd like details.

Here's a nice piece over on Salon about Al Franken and the possibility that he will run for a Senate seat in Minnesota in the not-too-distant future. Of note is this quote from Jesse Ventura…

The moment [Franken] declares his candidacy, he has to go off the radio. He has to look forward to having his entire past exposed. He'd better come clean and be honest with it. If he's done drugs in the past, he better be honest about that. He better be honest about things he did at Harvard, if he has anything in the closet.

You know, I wonder how much stuff like that matters anymore. I mean, certainly "things in the past" get used by your opposition to try and convince people that you're a bad, immoral person. But how much did reports of past drug use and orgying hurt Arnold Schwarzenegger? How much did rumors of past cocaine use and dirty business dealings hurt George W. Bush? It's been a long time since Ted Kennedy had any trouble getting re-elected. And if Bill Clinton were to ever run for Mayor or Governor of New York, he'd win in a walk. For that matter, Jesse Ventura managed to get into office without being faulted for past steroid use and his violent past and all the lying and fakery that's involved in professional wrestling.

I'm wondering if the Conventional Wisdom isn't coming down to this: If you have a history of questionable deeds, a certain group will yell a lot about them and argue that it disqualifies you from public service…but those are people who weren't going to vote for you, anyway. Another group, who've decided to vote for you if for no other reason than your party affiliation, might not like what you've done but they'll decide it doesn't matter. (I am talking here of misdeeds that can be said to be truly in the past and largely victimless, like sexual escapades or drug use. I don't mean something like you killed a guy…) Given the choice of two, wouldn't you rather vote for the reformed drug addict and male hustler who shares your views, as opposed to the clean-cut ex-minister who wants to make everything you like illegal?

That leaves the middle…the otherwise undecided. Bringing up your sordid past might sway a few votes but does it make a huge difference to voters? I suppose in some parts of the country, some past deeds would matter a lot, but I sense the trend is moving towards people not caring. Arnold carried some pretty Conservative/Pat Boone districts of California. I think in some cases, it's a matter of us being so cynical that we presume everyone on our ballots has something shameful they're concealing. If it comes out that the candidate sold drugs to school kids and was sexually involved with a sheep, we say, "Well, that's not so bad…unless, of course, the sheep was a minor."

Two other things about the Salon article. One is that in it, he tells a joke that Buddy Hackett told him. It's the exact same joke that Buddy told me once at a party and which I quoted in this piece. Buddy sure got a lot of mileage out of that joke.

And the other thing is that it's on Salon. If you don't subscribe, they make your purchase a day pass or sit through tons of ads or trim someone's hedges or…well, I don't know what they make you do to read articles there. I subscribe. There's lots of great free stuff to read on the Internet but I still feel Salon is well worth the bucks.

Hey, isn't it about time we checked in to see if Abe Vigoda is still alive?

A few years ago, I had a flurry of odd calls at my home. The phone would ring on one of my many incoming lines, I'd answer it and I'd hear a woman's voice say, "Oh, sorry. I have the wrong number." And then the party on the other end would hang up…only the party seemed to be a computer of some sort. The woman's voice was recorded.

I theorized that this was some sort of "fishing" expedition on the part of some firm that was compiling phone numbers to sell to someone. Perhaps they were looking for phone numbers that would be answered by fax machines. Perhaps they were trying to separate data lines from voice lines…something like that. But obviously, the mere fact that I answered the phone gave them whatever information they were seeking.

Recently, I have begun getting odd text messages on my cellphone. First off, it's odd that I'm getting text messages at all since only a few people have my cellphone number and none of them are set up to send a text message. But these communications come in every day or two, usually in the evening, and they say things like, "Going to bed. I love u" and "Cannot do lunch tomorrow. I love u." They are not from anyone I know.

The text messages are accompanied by the sender's phone number. I tried voice-dialing that number but it goes to a modem/data line, which is even odder. In theory, it should go to someone's cell phone. I thought of sending a text message back but the modem line thing made me suspect it might be a scam to locate cellphone numbers that are set up to receive text messages. I'm afraid that if I write back, I will validate my number and it'll be sold to hundreds of companies that will send me text messages offering to refinance my home or enlarge my breasts or enlarge my home or refinance my breasts or something. I'm assuming that if some real human being is text-messaging their loved one at the wrong number, they'll find out about it soon enough.

It reminds me of a time about 15 years ago when some guy kept phoning my house and asking for Donna. I did know a Donna then, but she wasn't here and I quickly determined that the caller was passionately in love with, and desperate to talk to some Donna I did not know. Something had gone wrong between them and he was certain that if he could just talk to his Donna, they could straighten it all out and get back together and eventually marry and have kids, etc.

At first, he called over and over, refusing to believe that he had the wrong number. He was certain I was lying to him and that his Donna was in the next room, avoiding him. I thought of saying something like, "Yeah, she's here but she's in the pool having sex with a bunch of accountants," but he sounded so serious, I was afraid he'd open his wrists.

I finally convinced him he really and truly had the wrong number, and he read me the number he thought he was dialing. It was one crucial digit different from mine. He apologized and hung up to dial the correct number…and sure enough, he got me again. This happened three or four more times in a row, like he was accidentally dialing not only the wrong number each time but, oddly, the same wrong number.

Finally, I told him something was probably wrong with his phone dial. The two was registering as a three. He said, "No, it's this damned faulty redial button. Every time I push it, I get you."

Donna was smart to get out when she did.

Over at IGN, Peter Sanderson continues his report on the memorial service for Will Eisner. And if you're a fan of sixties Marvel history, you might want to read Fred Hembeck on a mystery from the annals of Tales to Astonish. And if you do, you might want to read Fred's next column, coming soon, where he finds out more of the story.

Tomorrow night's 60 Minutes Wednesday will have a feature on the new Monty Python Broadway musical, Spamalot. And tonight's Charlie Rose Show, which runs tomorrow in some parts of the country, includes an interview with its director, Mike Nichols.

As mentioned earlier, Senator Rick Santorum (R-PA) has introduced a bill that would make it illegal (!) for the National Weather Service to make its forecasts available for free on the Internet. The National Weather Service is supported by those of us who pay taxes, and its data is the foundation of all weather forecasting across the continent. There are private weather services that take the NWS info and supplement it with additional data, as well as processing the NWS data through different computer models. There are others that do a fair amount of their own forecasting but even those firms have derived their computer models by studying NWS data, and their forecasts are always done with one eye on what the NWS says. So basically, what the private weather services sell is information derived from the work of the NWS. Santorum's bill is based on the premise that it is "unfair competition" for the NWS to give away this information because it might make it harder for private companies to charge money for their versions of it.

The most prominent of the private companies is AccuWeather, which is based in Santorum's alleged home state of Pennsylvania. (He actually lives in Virginia, a fact you'll probably hear mentioned often as re-election time draws near.) Is anyone surprised that the top execs of AccuWeather have donated a couple thousand bucks to the "Santorum in 2006" campaign?

This is out-and-out, unabashed bribery. Sometimes, when a representative takes money from the cheese industry and then pushes for a law that benefits the cheese industry, there's a rationale: The legislation was long overdue. Others have noted the problems it's intended to fix. The beneficiaries are just supporting that benevolent cause. Something like that. But in this case, no one was pushing for this change. In 50+ years, no one thought it was bad for the National Weather Service to be making its findings available to the public. It's just Santorum taking money for screwing the public…and his price is darned cheap, at that.

Yeah, this kind of thing happens all the time, and about bigger issues than the weather forecast. But it still ticks me off.

The other day here, I noted that Garry Trudeau has a tough job in Doonesbury, writing topical material that has to go to press way in advance. As noted, he's had a pretty amazing track record of not having his "projections" go awry. What happens between the time he sends a batch of daily strips off to his syndicate and the time they see print rarely renders them untimely.

As Ray Arthur noted to me in an e-mail just now, the Trudeau Luck is holding: Today's Doonesbury strip is about George W. Bush pledging his friendship and support to the embattered Tom DeLay. And today's developments in the DeLay situation are being summarized in news stories with headlines like Bush Gives DeLay Show of Support. A nice bit of prognostication there, in a strip that was probably drawn two weeks ago.

Here are two very funny writers, Lee Kalcheim and Marshall Efron, on Social Security privatization. Thanks to Lennie "Scream like a chicken" Weinrib for the link.

Here's a nice picture of the creator of Dick Tracy, Chester Gould. It's my way of alerting you to an upcoming What's My Line? treasure on GSN. Mr. Gould was a guest on the 4/22/56 episode of that venerable game show, and I think it's the one GSN is airing early Wednesday morning.

Also, if you're a fan of great ventriloquists, you might want to watch or TiVo the following night's (day's?) show, which should be the one from 4/29/56. Paul Winchell is on the panel, with Jerry Mahoney popping up every now and then from under the desk, and the mystery guest is Edgar Bergen with Mortimer Snerd. Winchell was always in awe of Bergen and was genuinely thrilled when he figured out who it was.

A lot of fascinating people popped up on What's My Line?, which is one of the reasons I enjoy watching these hoary reruns. If you watch over the week or two, you'll see appearances by Frank Lloyd Wright, Ronald Reagan, Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, Liberace, Bob Hope, Margaret Truman, and the bodybuilder whose torso adorned many a comic book advertisement…Charles Atlas.

For those of you following the Peter Paul/Stan Lee Media story, here's yet another chapter.

My pal Ken Plume is looking for something and I'll bet someone reading this can help out. It's a cartoon by the famous pre-war British editorial cartoonist Paul Crum (real name: Roger Pettiward). It depicts two hippopotamuses, their noses above water, and one is saying something like, "I keep thinking it's a Tuesday." A collection of his work was printed in '85 entitled The Last Cream Bun and we assume it's in there. Ken needs a scan and he's a good guy…so if you have access to this and would like to get thanked profusely in an article, drop a note to me and I'll forward it on to Ken.