My pal Russell Myers has been drawing Broom-Hilda for close to 32 years with no end in sight.  He just signed another ten year contract and, even if he quit tomorrow, he's always about a year ahead on the thing.  One day, about a decade ago, we were talking on the phone and he said, "I've gotta go.  I have a deadline crisis."  And for him, it was a crisis: He'd been ill or playing hooky or something and, somehow, a chunk of his lead had evaporated and he was only (gasp!) ten months ahead.  There are syndicated artists who go their entire careers without ever getting as much as a month ahead…and here's Myers fretting because he doesn't have his usual year-long stockpile.

Anyway, I've always enjoyed the adventures of the short little witch lady and often make a point of checking out her exploits…which you can do at the syndicate's website.  You can also read a nice on-line chat/interview with her maker by clicking on this link.  Do one or the other.

Woke up this morning to fifteen (count 'em — 15) e-mails from folks who noted I'd written the following in the previous news item…

But what he lacked in talent, Burton more than made up for via sheer talent and ingenuity.

I've corrected the line.  Thanks to the lot of you and I wish I could blame it all on some HTML coding error or something.  If you spot an error, don't hesitate to let me know.

More thoughts about Chuck Jones, who passed away last Friday at the age of 89.  It's a jolt to realize that all of the major directors of the classic Warner Brothers cartoons are gone: Bob Clampett, Tex Avery, Robert McKimson, Friz Freleng and now Chuck.  (That's Friz with Chuck in this news photo I found.  I suspect, given what I recall of their relative heights, Friz was standing on something — probably an animator — when this picture was taken.)  Norman McCabe, who directed 11 WB cartoons during World War II, is still with us but I'd bet even he would agree that, with the lost of Jones, an era has passed.

Chuck Jones directed several hundred cartoons in his lifetime.  He directed poor cartoons, good cartoons and an astounding number of the best cartoons ever made.  An oft-heard remark among animation buffs is, "I never thought of Jones as my favorite director…but when I sat down and made a list of my favorite cartoons, I found more of his films than anyone else's."  I agree with those who feel that What's Opera, Doc? has been praised far beyond its worth but leave that aside — in fact, toss out One Froggy Evening, Chow Hound, Rabbit Seasoning, Duck Amuck, Duck Dodgers, Rabbit Punch, Cheese Chasers, Robin Hood Daffy and all the Road Runner cartoons.  Throw away any fifty great Chuck Jones cartoons, look at what's left and you still have an incredible body, not just of work but of timeless work.

Chuck, we can all be happy to remember, lived to see it discovered anew by several generations, each of which appreciated it as not just entertainment but as an integral part of their ongoing childhoods.  When I do chalk talks on cartooning at schools, the kids invariably shout catch-phrases from the films — and that is not a shallow measure of something's worth.  When you say, "I knew I shoulda turned left at Albuquerque," people smile and even laugh, because it reminds them of a wonderful cartoon that made them smile and even laugh.  Does anyone doubt they'll be smiling and laughing at The Rabbit of Seville and other great Chuck Jones cartoons a hundred years from now?  (That's about when Warner Home Video will probably start releasing them on DVD…)

Early in the nineties, there was a period wherein I found myself routinely commuting to Las Vegas for odd combinations of biz and pleasure.  During this time, I paid no less than a half-dozen visits to the Hacienda to see Lance Burton in a show that was short on price tag (approx. $20) and budget (not many sets, some of them leftover from a shopworn Minsky's Burlesque revue that had preceded him at the shopworn — now extinct — casino).  But what he lacked in funds, Burton more than made up for via sheer talent and ingenuity.  I've seen enough magicians to know when I'm watching the very best…and Lance Burton was and is the very best.  His little show was so good that no one was surprised when he signed a multi-million buck, 10-year deal with a new hotel that was then under construction.  In fact, the showroom at the Monte Carlo was named for him and designed to his specifications and now he performs there.

A great show it is…a bit less charming than the one at the Hacienda because, among other differences, it lacks intimacy and underdog status.  But magic doesn't get much better than what Mr. Burton offers on that stage.

All of this is a roundabout way of leading up to a recommendation.  I just got a copy of Lance Burton: Secrets of Magic, a low-priced (under 12 bucks) DVD that you can purchase from Amazon-dot-com by clicking on the picture above.  It's really a bargain for magic fans, as it contains two of those fine NBC specials that Lance did a few years back, plus another magic special that he's in but does not headline, as well as a few extras.  The magic is terrific and it's photographed with great integrity, meaning that the director didn't "help" the magician by doing little time compressions or cutaways to omit what you might have caught, had you been there live.  I believe this DVD is on closeout, having been discontinued, so if you want one, buy now.

We continue to refute the rumor that will not die.  The latest issue of the otherwise excellent Alter Ego reports that, according to Al Feldstein at a recent San Diego convention, the actor Martin Landau assisted Wally Wood on some of his comic book work for EC.  This is not true.  I have it from Martin Landau's own, Oscar-winning lips that he never worked in comic books.  This is presumably another confusion with a comic book artist named Ken Landau who is no relation and certainly not the same person.

For more on this oft-screwed-up situation, see this Incessantly Asked Question, right on this here website.

Here's an excerpt from an e-mail that asks a question I've been getting often, as of late with regard to the movie, It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World…

I wondered if you could help me with a bit of info.  Is Santa Rosita a real place?  Does the Big "W" exist?  If I ever got to visit California is there any advice you could give me as to visiting any of the film locations?

Santa Rosita, home of Captain Culpepper, is not a real city.  Most of those scenes were filmed in and around Long Beach, California.  The park containing the Big "W" was constructed for the film on a piece of private real estate on a cliff in Palos Verdes, and the fabled four palm trees were transplanted there.  Today, at least two of them have fallen.  The "park" is part of a private arboretum which is not generally open to the public.  (A few fans have asked politely and gained access, but I'm told the owners of the property prefer not to have its landmark status publicized.)

I've heard from quite a few Mad World fans who have tracked down various shooting locations.  Some of those places are in the middle of nowhere; others have changed so much that nothing recognizable remains.  The most accessible unchanged location is probably the spot on Pacific Coast Highway, not far from Santa Monica Pier, where something called the California Incline leads down from Ocean Avenue.  This is where the scenes were filmed of all the stars getting out of and then rushing back into the taxis to pursue Spencer Tracy.  Also, several earlier scenes were filmed there, such as the one where the police escort cars leave Tracy alone.  If you go to Mapquest and do a search for "California Incline" in Santa Monica, CA, you'll see its whereabouts.

Jackie Mason was (past-tense) one of the greatest stand-up comedians but he has long since turned into someone doing a sad, unfunny impression of Jackie Mason.  In an attempt to hasten his descent into embarrassment, he co-authors occasional political columns with a lawyer named Raoul Felder.  They're not particularly clever and rarely in sync with reality, and I have to remind myself that, just because I once liked Mason, I don't have to read them.

The Washington Times — which is nearly incapable of criticizing a Republican or praising a Democrat — sometimes runs them.  They ran one the other day which included this line which I find incredible, even for a rabidly right-wing newspaper…

Remember the Paula Jones case? That was when Mr. Clinton, the president, supposedly the representative of the highest American values, was fined $1 million when he was convicted of sexual harassment.

Did I miss something?  I don't recall Bill Clinton being convicted of anything in that matter.  I recall the judge tossing Jones's case out of court as without merit.  Then, when it looked like it might get reinstated, Clinton settled out of court for $850,000.  Mason and Felder even got the amount of money wrong.

I'm kinda dismayed to see this in a real newspaper.  Did the editor not read it?  That would be gross incompetence.  Did he read it and think it was true?  Also, gross incompetence.  Did he read it, know it was untrue and print it anyway?  That would be pretty irresponsible.  An editorial page can present a wide range of opinions but those opinions are supposed to be based on some genuine facts.

It's also dismaying to see this coming from Jackie Mason, a man who has spent his career claiming — with some merit — that he'd been unjustly lied about.  He was effectively blacklisted when Ed Sullivan claimed Mason had made an "obscene gesture" on a broadcast.  He had bullets fired at him when it was erroneously reported he'd ridiculed Frank Sinatra in his act.  I seem to recall several other such incidents, including a paternity suit from a stripper.  (Mason claimed it was bogus.  Wonder if he settled out of court…)  Of all people, you'd think Jackie Mason would be certain that when you convict someone of wrongdoing, you have your facts right.

I doubt there will be a retraction or correction.  The Washington Times doesn't like to do that, and the column will not attract much attention, anyway.  I just felt I oughta remark that my low opinion of a once-admired comedian has hit rock-bottom.  (Here's a link to the entire column if you want to read it, God knows why.)

Josh Marshall's wonderful Talking Points website — oft-plugged here — has a new URL.  The new address is www.talkingpointsmemo.com.  Highly recommended, especially for making sense out of the Enron chaos.

I've never met Fred Hembeck.  We've corresponded occasionally but I don't think I've even spoken to him on the phone.  Still, I feel like I know the guy.

For one thing, my dumb articles and his clever cartoons have been turning up in the same comic book fanzines for a couple of decades.  For another, he's interested in all the same comics as I am…and interested in the same, strange aspects of them.  He sometimes does groaner puns like the above; other times, he offers personal, interesting insights that remind us why we like the comics we like.  You can find an array of Hembeck cartoons over at this website and it's well worth the trip.

The on-line magazine Salon, has been way out in front on the Enron brouhaha.  The other day, they came up with details on the aspect of this case that may cause the greatest amount of public outrage.  It's that, even as the company was declaring bankruptcy, laying people off and reneging on their severance packages, it was also doling out more than $55 million in bonuses to its top executives.  (Here's a link to the story.)

Someone once said — or someone should have said — that a scandal is driven by the simplest, one-line description of wrongdoing.  Nixon and his lieutenants covered up White House involvement in the Watergate burglary.  Reagan claimed his administration hadn't traded arms for hostages when, in fact, they had.  Clinton had an affair with an intern and lied about it.  In all three cases, there were extenuating explanations and all sorts of spins that could be put on the matter…but a large part of the public never got past the simple fact of wrongdoing as defined in one sentence.

Most of the Enron story is too complicated to make for a good scandal.  The public never got worked up over Whitewater, partly because so many accusations against the Clintons were unsupported but also because no one understood what they'd supposedly done wrong.  It didn't approach being a juicy, bring-someone-down scandal until it morphed into the easily-explainable Monica mess.  Enron is becoming very easy to explain in layman's logic: The company went kablooey, the investors and employees got screwed but the top guys all ran off with millions apiece.  That's all most people have to hear.  There are explanations and rationalizations.  "Retention bonuses" — paying top execs to remain aboard a sinking ship — may be oily but they are not unprecedented and probably not illegal.  No matter.  The one-liner on this one is bad enough that it can't be explained away…a fact that seems to be lost on the few Enron execs who aren't invoking the Fifth Amendment.  The one who testified on Thursday was like a murderer standing amidst the bodies, holding the bloody knife and saying, "Wait…I can explain!"

The question is whether the Enron one-liner will be expanded to include George W. Bush or replaced by a one-liner about him — i.e., "Bush arranged for legislation or government neglect that allowed his pals to loot the company."  So far, there's no solid evidence of that and I'm still skeptical there ever will be.  But if one of those sentences ever becomes the least bit credible, this could make Watergate look like an overtime parking violation.

Important, possibly prescient article by Paul Krugman over at The New York Times.  It deals with something we've alluded to on this site — that other companies may soon go the way of Enron.  But of course, we're just guessing, whereas Krugman seems to know what he's talking about.  Here's your link.

Yes, we still think Enron will not harm Bush directly.  But if a couple more companies go bust like that, it will not take much to make most of America hate overpaid CEOs more than they now hate guys named Osama.  And to the extent that the Democrats can link George W. to such profiteers — and possibly, given his past business ventures, paint him as one — he could suffer some pretty potent body blows.

Thousands of years ago, I had one of those strange, "guilty pleasure" interests in The Price Is Right.  This evening, after watching its prime-time, 30th anniversary special, I am at a loss to explain why I ever found Bob Barker particularly charming — and this was before I ran into the man in a car wash on Highland Avenue.  We were waiting for our respective autos to be laundered and I made some ha-ha hilarious joke about how I hoped he wasn't going to tip the attendant in Plinko chips.  It was a silly remark but from his reaction, you'd have thought I'd just spit up on his Guccis.

That encounter did not sour my interest in his show.  Rather, I think it was its endless repetition, coupled with that occasional moment when a certain contempt for its audience would leak out around the edges.  Some of the stories about Mr. Barker offstage — rumored and reported — also made it harder to view his "I'm so wonderful" act as performed with a twinkle.  (A recent episode of the E! True Hollywood Story obsesses on some of the uglier escapades.)  He reminded me of another performer of whom it was once said, "He does nothing but he's so successful at it, he's convinced himself he's brilliant."

Tonight's Price Is Right special bored me and got me to wondering why I ever tuned in.  Part of it, I know, was the sheer professional expertise on display.  Once upon a time, if you'd gone to a network and pitched the 60-minute Price Is Right, describing the prizes you'd be dispensing and how you'd be getting them on and off the stage, they'd have told you it was impossible.  That show could not be done five times a week — too ambitious, too costly, too complicated.  Some very brilliant producers and directors figured out how to make it work.  (An even more interesting show than the one they tape is the one that goes on backstage, watching stagehands juggle refrigerators and Buicks.)  I also liked the original announcer, Johnny Olson, and the earlier "Barker's Beauties," who performed seemingly trivial on-camera duties with amazing skill.

Most of all, I think I liked the pure spirit of fun that permeated the show — just ordinarily folks enjoying themselves, having perhaps the greatest thrill of their lives without enduring the embarrassment on which so many game shows thrive.  Those other programs feature contestants who have endured a lengthy pre-screening procedure that somehow makes them behave like professional contestants.  The Price Is Right has only a minimal selection process and plucks its competitors right out of the studio audience.  It all seemed so spontaneous back then.  Somehow, tonight, it seemed like both host and players were performing stale rituals.  Bob basked in the radiance of the applause and trotted out the hoary clip of the lady whose top fell down on camera.  (There are episodes of I Love Lucy that have been rerun less often.)  But he didn't utter one witty, original remark…or anything that sounded the least sincere.

Over at CBS, I'm told, a frequent topic is who, if anyone, will replace the 79-year-old host when he steps down or drops in his tracks.  I don't know that anyone will but, after tonight, I suspect that almost anyone could.

A total stranger was nice enough to send me this photo of Anthony Perkins polishing a 1957 Thunderbird.  He did this because he'd heard that I own a 1957 Thunderbird which I bought from Mr. Perkins and he'd assumed it was the same car.  Is it?  Well, let's consider the evidence…

Perkins told me that he was the original owner of the car I bought from him in 1981.  Of course, that doesn't mean he didn't own two '57 Thunderbirds or that he even owned the car he's polishing in the above pic.

He also told me he that in several movies, he drove the car he was selling me.  That may be significant because it suggests he didn't drive some other T-Bird in those films and was therefore likely to be photographed with the one that's now in my garage.

The car I bought was light blue.  (The Ford people called it "robin's egg blue")  The T-Bird in the above photo certainly looks to me like it could be light blue.  On the other hand, whether it does or not may not matter.  When I had some body work done on it, they stripped it down to the metal and told me it had originally been light blue, then had been repainted at least four times — at least twice in other colors — before being painted back to light blue by the fellow who restored it for Perkins before I bought it.

As you'll note, the car above sports a New York license plate.  Perkins was born in New York but came out to Hollywood and began making movies in 1953.  By the time the '57 Thunderbirds came out, he was shooting films like Fear Strikes Out and Friendly Persuasion — all in Los Angeles.  Of course, he could have maintained a residence in New York, registered the car there and later had it shipped out here.  When I bought mine, it had California plates that had been issued in the mid-sixties.  (It sat in a garage for most of the seventies.)

So, whadda ya think?  Am I outta line to say that's probably my car in the picture?

Anyone still interested in what happened with the presidential vote in Florida?  If so, you'll want to read this article by John Dean over on Salon.

Pretty funny column from Michael Moore this week.  Click right here, folks.