If you live in Southern California, you have the chance to hear a superb singer and comedienne, Shelly Goldstein, who describes herself as "a gay man trapped inside the body of a straight girl."  She's performing this Wednesday and the two Wednesdays that follow at the Gardenia, up on Santa Monica Boulevard, just on the outskirts of Hollywood.  The Gardenia is an intimate supper club with pretty good food and, at times, wonderful entertainment.  Shelly is providing three of those times this month.  For reservations, dial (323) 467-7444.

A few folks have e-mailed me about my little discourse on the Death Penalty, explaining about "special circumstances" and how the Death Penalty is not applicable without them.  Sorry I didn't make it clear that I understand about that.  My point is that, in both the Blake and Simpson cases, the applicable prosecutors announced, "We have decided not to seek the Death Penalty" and, at least in Simpson's case, it was reportedly because they thought a jury would be reticent to send a handsome sports hero to his death.  Apparently, they could have gone for the ultimate penalty but opted not to try.  They did not come out and say, "We have determined that this crime does not qualify."

So my question stands: Certain folks are outraged when a judge or governor could fry someone and doesn't, even if it's for some silly reason like evidence that the person might not have received a fair trial.  Why are they not outraged by anything — a law or a D.A.'s decision — that prevents a Simpson or Blake from facing execution at all?  Does anyone buy the notion that what they did (or are alleged to have done) is less worthy of the Ultimate Penalty than, say, if one of those "special circumstances" applied?  A drive-by shooting qualifies for the Death Penalty but hacking your ex-wife and a friend to pieces with a knife doesn't?

I am not convinced there should be a Death Penalty, if only because I think our Judicial System is enormously sloppy about making sure the right people face it.  But if we're going to have one, shouldn't it be less arbitrary?  And aren't the folks in favor of the Death Penalty misdirected to be focusing their wrath on judges and governors?  Shouldn't they be protesting whatever laws or decisions prevent the Death Penalty from even being sought when a guy allegedly plots and carries out the murder of his wife?

I really liked the old, classic game show, Press Your Luck, but I've told the TiVo to stop recording its new, updated incarnation, Whammy!  I tried to like the new version — really, I did — but it just doesn't hold even the limited amount of my attention it takes to enjoy a game show.  My main problems have to do with how frenetic the whole thing is.  The show is too loud and too fast for me to care about the players, and the strategy components of the game are lost amidst the high-tech shouting.  In the old version, contestants were up against a constant decision: Do I take another spin and Press My Luck or do I pass?  The game board was configured to put them in this position repeatedly with dire and ever-changing consequences.  That part's buried somewhere in the new format but we don't get to know the contestants as well; ergo, we care less about how they decide what they decide, and I even find myself wondering if some of them even understand that there are strategies involved in playing this game of chance.

The new host, Todd Newton, is nowhere near as good as Peter Tomarken, though that may not be his fault.  You get the feeling someone off-stage is constantly screaming at Newton, "Keep it moving, keep it moving!"  I could also do without the animated Whammy dumping pizza dough or Silly String™ on the contestants' heads…but the thing I like the least is the new game board.  The old one was designed to let you easily see the amounts and the contestants' faces as they played.  The more stylish design of the new one fills your screen with dead area, making the important things smaller and harder to see.  All of this conspires to yield a show that is loud and fast but strangely remote to me.  And I'm sorry because, like I said, I really wanted to like this.

Joe Bob Briggs wrote a good article about the recently-deceased Linda Lovelace for National Review.  Here's the link.

Okay, so they're not going to seek the Death Penalty for Robert Blake.  Frankly, I don't care much if they do or they don't have mixed feelings about the notion of our government putting people to death, especially given how appallingly fallible our court system seems to be…but let's leave that aside for now.  (I don't think that's a small thing, by the way.  I think proponents of the Death Penalty are turning backflips to ignore the fact that folks on Death Row keep being found innocent.  But that's not germane to the point I want to make…)

If we are to have a Death Penalty in this nation, I assume we're all in accord that it oughta be administered impartially, without regard to the race or wealth of the accused, only the nature of their crime.  With me so far?  Okay.  And we think it ought to be applied in the most extreme, inhuman crimes, right?  Fine.

Now, when a judge or a governor shows some hesitancy to fry a convicted killer, the Death Penalty folks howl, scream about recall petitions, accuse the official of disrespecting the memory of the victims and denying their loved ones closure, etc.  And if we believe in the Death Penalty, that's probably an appropriate response.  Now, here comes the But…

But!  When the D.A. decided not to seek the Death Penalty for O.J. Simpson, I don't recall any outcry whatsoever about that. Not a peep, not a protest.  Why?  The man was accused of driving over to his ex-wife's home with a big knife and hacking her and a friend to death.  Is that not a crime worthy of the Death Penalty?  I mean, if that doesn't warrant it, what would? Killing three people that way?  Five?  How about if he'd killed them and then jaywalked to the Bronco?

Robert Blake is accused of taking a gun and shooting his wife to death.  This is plain, old-fashioned, generic-brand murder, isn't it?  The D.A. spent eleven months investigating and, aware that the case would be examined with an electron microscope, appears to have nailed down the facts and evidence with uncanny precision.  Is there a reason this isn't a Death Penalty offense apart from the fact that the guy's famous and can afford a good lawyer?  And if they aren't going to seek the Death Penalty in a case like this or Simpson's, why should they seek it in any premeditated murder of one or two human beings?

Just a thought.

Most people think lawyers are weasels who will claim darn near anything to help their clients.  This viewpoint will not be alleviated by the attorney representing TV Psychic Miss Cleo.  He claims (in this news story) that "she is a shaman.  She has the gift."  Of course, he adds, it would be a legal impossibility to actually prove, as she and he claim, that she actually has the ability to predict the future.  This is amazing since even I can predict Miss Cleo's future.  I see a plea bargain…some admission of deception and token remuneration to her callers, followed by new commercials that are plastered with disclaimers.

All of this will put an end to Miss Cleo's little enterprise, which is kind of a shame.  Better it should end with a televised, one-on-one "test" by James Randi…who, by the way, has posted our Peter Hurkos article on his website with our blessing.  Randi's weekly commentaries are on my Internet "must-reading" list.

Another example of the kind of odd trivia connections that interest me:  Someone sent me the photo at left of Julie Newmar taken backstage at the Li'l Abner Broadway show, which is discussed here on this website.  Obviously, Ms. Newmar's physique is of paramount importance but I was also interested in that newspaper in the lower left corner.  The show opened in November of 1956 but this snapshot was taken some time during '57, as revealed by the headline on The Daily News.  As you'll see, the newspaper headline reads, "DIO GETS 4½ ??? ACID TRIAL STAY."  The word we can't read is probably "years" or "yrs" and the person referred to as "Dio" is Johnny Dioguardi, one of the toughest members (though not by blood) of the Lucchese crime family.  Dioguardi specialized in union manipulation and the Feds spent many years trying to pin a wide array of racketeering charges on him — to his increasing anger, every time his integrity was questioned.

Once, on the way out of testifying before a Senate subcommittee, he didn't like the questions reporters were shouting so he turned around and belted a photographer — a fine way to get the press to lay off you.

The "acid trial" was a notorious, horrifying affair.  In April of '56, a newspaper columnist named Victor Riesel was the substitute host of Barry Gray's late night radio program in New York.  Riesel, who covered the labor scene in his column, had made some accusations against Dio in print, though the mobster's name was barely mentioned on that broadcast.  After the broadcast, Riesel and his secretary had a late night dinner at Lindy's restaurant and, as they left, a man ran up and threw sulfuric acid in Reisel's face.

Reisel lost his sight.  The assailant, a small-time hood named Abe Trevi, was later found with a couple of bullets in his head.  He had apparently gone back to his employer and demanded more money for the job.  Investigators located two witnesses who would help establish that Johnny Dio had ordered both the assault on Reisel and the murder of Trevi but, soon after, the witnesses suddenly decided they, uh, hadn't actually witnessed what they said they'd witnessed.  That probably was the reason for the stay in the trial that was reported in the headline.

As a result of those witnesses retracting, the D.A. was unable to secure a conviction.  Associates of Trevi went to prison but not Dio…yet.  The crime horrified the public and the press (including friends of Reisel) kept a certain amount of pressure on the authorities who, in turn, kept the pressure on Dio.  For a time, he went merrily on his Mafioso way, running scams and helping his friend, Jimmy Hoffa, rise to power in the Teamsters Union.  Eventually though, the law caught up with Johnny Dioguardi and, in 1967, he went to prison for the first of several stays, eventually dying in a prison hospital in '79.

I read up on this story some time ago, so the headline in the photo caught my eye, and I couldn't help thinking: It was taken at the St. James Theater — then as now, located on 44th, just up from Broadway.  Lindy's delicatessen, where the attack occurred, was then at Broadway and 50th — just six blocks away.  It was a favored hangout of actors performing in shows, so the headline was very much "local news" for the members of the Li'l Abner cast.

Well, apart from a sound system that yielded all the fidelity of a cell phone in a bathysphere, a good time was had by all at the Evening with Stan Freberg which was held last evening under the auspices of A.S.I.F.A.  (That's Mr. Freberg at right in this vintage silly photo from Art Linkletter's People Are Funny program.)  A hall full of animation fans and creators — mostly, the latter — gathered to watch old cartoons that featured Stan's vocal stylings, and to hear him interviewed by m.e.  Stan was witty and informative on a range of animation-related topics, ranging from working with the likes of Chuck Jones and Bob Clampett to the problems of servicing his clients as a maker of funny commercials.  I'm not sure folks realize how many cartoons Stan appeared in over the years.  Since 1944, when he started, through the sixties, he was heard in the output of every single Hollywood-based cartoon studio that produced theatrical animation.  (He was even in the one cartoon — which we showed — that resulted from Republic Studios' short-lived attempt to get into the animation field.)  Since the sixties, he's been in countless TV cartoon shows, but we never even got around to them.

I'm too tired right now to report anything Stan said, and it wouldn't be the same coming from me, anyway.  But, since I use these pages as a kind of personal diary, I did want to put down the following: There was an amazing sensation of love and respect in the auditorium this evening in Glendale.  The folks who turned out didn't just want to hear a funny man or see funny cartoons.  They came to meet a personal hero or, at the very least, a man whose work has always been very special to them.  On the way out, someone said to me, "I just met Stan Freberg and I still can't believe I just met Stan Freberg."  As long as I've been in this business, and as many people as I've met, I still understand that feeling.  I hope I always do.

Catching on game shows on the TiVo, I enjoyed a couple of old episodes of What's My Line? that ran recently on Game Show Network.  One featured, as a contestant, Bud Sagendorf, who was then the writer-artist of the Popeye newspaper strip.  Another had Alan Jay Lerner, who wrote the book and lyrics for My Fair Lady, Camelot, Paint Your Wagon and many others.  It's probably silly to form an impression of someone based on a five minute game show appearance but Lerner certainly seemed like the brooding, troubled soul that biographies (and his own autobiography) paint him to have been.  Somewhere in storage, I have two or three letters I received from Mr. Lerner in the early seventies and even then — before any of the books — I could sense a certain joylessness in his rhetoric.

Another thing that's interesting about these old shows are all the plugs and mentions of projects that never came to pass.  The other day, they ran a Hollywood Squares on which Mel Brooks was a celeb, plugging (seriously) a movie he said he was about to start — a remake of She Stoops to Conquer.  No such movie was ever made.  I don't know the original air date of this episode but it was prior to Blazing Saddles.  Wally Cox was on it and he died early in '73.  Blazing Saddles was made the following year, so it's likely that this Hollywood Squares was made at one of those times Brooks has spoken of when he couldn't get arrested in the movie business…ergo, the project that never came to fruition.

My favorite "new" stand-up comedian ("new," as in, having turned up in the last few years) is a fidgety, outraged gent named Lewis Black, who appears weekly on The Daily Show With Jon Stewart.  He also has a funny CD out, pops up on most of the talk shows and seems to be criss-crossing the country with stand-up dates, some of which are listed on his website, www.lewisblack.net. If you can't access any of that, you might try a new episode of Comedy Central Presents, which debuts this coming Saturday evening on guess-which-cable-channel.  I haven't seen it yet…but I also haven't seen any Lewis Black appearances that weren't worth setting the TiVo for.

Recently, I posted this column about how I met Milton Berle on the set of an episode of The Love Boat in which he was guesting.  If anyone cares — and I'm not sure I do — TV Land is rerunning that episode tonight.  The show airs at 8:00 PM in most time zones.

Almost forgot to mention one of the highlights of my Wondercon Weekend.  Oakland — at least the portions around the convention center, which are all I've seen after four Wondercons — is a great little city.  There are fascinating little shops and, if you know where to go, great restaurants.  There are a lot of dives and dumps but there are also fine places to dine.  Within walking distance of the Marriott is a waterfront area called Jack London Square with a couple of terrific places, such as Kincaid's.  And just across the street from the hotel and down one block is the Jade Villa, one of the best Chinese restaurants I've ever not been able to use chopsticks in.  That is not faint praise: I've been unable to use chopsticks in an awful lot of Chinese restaurants over the years.

The Jade Villa, which is located at 800 Broadway, is not at all fancy.  The reason to go there is the almost-daily Dim Sum.  You sit there — this is after you get a table, which sometimes takes a while, especially on Sunday — and little women of Asian ancestry shove carts of food up and down the aisles, pausing to offer delicacies for your selection.  Most of the offerings are dumplings and little unknown items cooked in some variety of dough.  If you ask what's in one of them, the ladies give you an impatient look; like you're wasting their time because they have to hurry and push the cart over to the next table so the people there can ask what's inside the pastry.  But they give you an answer.  Most seem to say, "Shrimp," no matter what's really in there.  Occasionally, it turns out to be shrimp, which is great.  They do terrific things with shrimp.

Dim Sum represents a certain amount of gambling, especially for those of us with odd food allergies.  There's also an element of chance as to which items will be offered for your purchase before you're so stuffed, you can eat no more.  On Friday, Carolyn Kelly and I went there and enjoyed many items but especially the stuffed mushrooms.  ("What are they stuffed with?"  "Shrimp.")  On Sunday, Carolyn, Len Wein and I went there and kept waiting for the stuffed mushrooms to come around.  At one point, there seemed to be a better chance of Godot showing up than those damned stuffed mushrooms.  We couldn't resist many of the offerings so we bought all sorts of little potstickers ("What's in those?"  "Shrimp.") and egg roll concoctions ("What's inside these?"  "Shrimp.") and we wolfed them all down.  Finally, Len said, "I can't eat another bite" and Carolyn said, "Me, too" and I even admitted, "This is it…no more."  And, of course, the minute we all said that, the lady came by with the stuffed mushrooms, which were stuffed with…you know.

I couldn't stuff down even one stuffed mushroom; not even if you put your foot in my mouth and stamped down.  Instead, we paid the check and waddled back towards the convention.  And I could almost hear the conversation as we left the Jade Villa…

"Those people walk so funny.  What got into them?"

"Shrimp."

Do I even have to mention that The John Romita Sketch Book is a joy?  I mean, how could a book of John Romita sketches not be a must for any comic book buff?  Especially when they toss in a long, detailed interview.  Mr. Romita (and his son, John, Jr.) were Guests of Honor at the Wondercon just completed and, if not for the fact that I moderated panels and events involving them, I might never have gotten close enough to chat.  That's how crowded they always seemed to be.  It was quite a change from my first memory of John Romita (Senior), which was in the Marvel offices in the Summer of '70.  You would not believe the tiny, cramped workspace the company has provided for him. I was 18 at the time and I literally had twice the space when I sat and drew in my bedroom in my parents' house.

But he was sitting there, putting beautiful work down on paper for what I'd guess was not nearly enough money…and now some of that very work is up in a museum (see earlier item) and he's mobbed by adoring fans and admirers, some of whom are coughing up major coinage for his originals and prints.  And, of course, you're going to buy the book.

I'm back in Los Angeles, by the way, happy to be home.  I had a great time at Wondercon — as ever, one of the friendliest of all conventions — but it's always good to get back.  Today at the con seemed medium-crowded…less than Saturday but more than Friday.  Len Wein and I did a panel for ProCon called, "How Not To Be Taken," which started with us collecting twenty bucks from all attendees.  No, we didn't…but it would have made the point.  The panel mostly consisted of me reviewing our lessons here about Unfinanced Entrepreneurs and illustrating same with more examples.

I think that's about it.  Gotta go unpack…

The second day of Wondercon in Oakland was, as expected, packed.  Me, I spent most of the day moderating panels.  First, we had a wonderful event in which we more or less played Whose Line Is It Anyway? except (a) with cartoonists instead of actors, (b) with me in the Drew Carey role and (c) without the "contestants" having most of their responses planned in advance.

Braving the fray were Sergio Aragonés, John Romita, Jr. and Mark Texeira…and it all went very well, and I think we're going to try it again in San Diego.  Then I hosted a Golden Age Panel that consisted of Julius Schwartz, Irwin Hasen, Creig Flessel, Russ Heath and John Romita.  A great panel but I can't think of anything particularly quotable, other than Mr. Flessel's explanation of how he managed to get paid by Malcolm Wheeler-Nicholson, the founder of DC Comics.  Flessel went to work for Major Nicholson (as he was called) in 1936, making him darn near the first-ever comic book — as opposed to strip — artist.  The Major was notorious for not paying his bills and Sheldon Mayer, who worked for him at the time, later referred to him as "not only the first man to publish comic books but also the first to stiff an artist for his check."  I asked Flessel if he got paid and he said, "Yes…but taking my drawing board up and working in the office.  If I'd mailed it in like the other guys, I think I'd have had a problem."

My third and final panel of the day was about Humor in Comics, with Sergio, Paul Dini, Pat McGreal, Batton Lash and Bill Morrison.  Again, not much is quotable here, though we seemed to all enjoy a chat about characters' "voices" in comics.  When I used to write Bugs Bunny comic books, I had a theory that readers, when they read such a comic, always read the dialogue in their heads with Mel Blanc inflections.  The folks who read Bill Morrison's Simpsons comic books are almost all, I presume, imagining the voices from the TV series when they read a comic page.  This is a major difference from most super-hero or adventure comics.  Does anyone reading Batman imagine the voice of any actor who has played the role?  I don't think so.  (However, Pat McGreal agreed with me that the Donald Duck of the comic book — which he now writes for Egmont Publications overseas — sounds nothing like the Clarence Nash "duck" voice we all know from the cartoons.)

I'd report more but this is coming to you from a hotel room and Check-Out Time is looming large.  Next and final Wondercon Report in about twelve hours.

Here's an artist's sketch for the title card for A Bear For Punishment, a very funny cartoon that was directed by the late, much-admired Chuck Jones.  This is one of the films we plan on showing Wednesday evening at the gala, sure-to-be-packed Evening With Stan Freberg.  Stan did the voice of Junyer Bear (the big kid at right) and he'll tell us all about it and other great animation roles.  Info on how to be there should be somewhere nearby on this page.