Here's a find. Before they did the live broadcast of Peter Pan on NBC in 1956, cameraman Sid Chomsky shot some 8mm home movies of Mary Martin, Cyril Ritchard and the rest of the cast in rehearsals. There's also some footage in there from a rehearsal for a Kraft Hall of Fame, also with Cyril Ritchard. The film is silent but also priceless…

• Has Trump given himself an A-plus yet for his administration's response to Hurricane Florence?

Sad about Marin Mazzie and feeling bad for folks in and around the Carolinas who are being deluged. We get paralyzed here in Southern California if we get three inches over a couple of days and there are parts of North Carolina getting that much per hour with no end in sight. As I will forever say about such situations, the government should spend on this kind of thing — which does happen — like it spends on prepping for wars that don't.

"More bad news for Donald Trump." That's in the first paragraph of a news item about three times a week and that's not going to change. If anything, it will get worse. If the man fantasized about being hailed as a Great and Trusted Leader by a majority of the country and being free of scandals and investigations, that is never going to happen. It will be like it is now until whenever he leaves office and for some time after.

Today's bad news is the apparent flipping of Paul Manafort. The White House is furiously telling people that what Mr. Manafort's pleading guilty to is not about Trump. That may be true but what he can testify to in other matters sure does involve Trump. Lesson to be learned: When you surround yourself with crooks, some of them are going to sing…and they'll sing about you. The next election's turning into this…

If you believe Donald Trump and his associates should be investigated and held accountable for any criminal actions, CLICK HERE to vote Democratic.

If you believe they should not, CLICK HERE to vote Republican.

Other issues may arise for local and statewide races. But on the national level, that's really all that's going to matter.

Sad to hear of the passing of Broadway star Marin Mazzie. She died Thursday morning at the way-too-young age of 57. Blame ovarian cancer for this one, folks. It robbed us of an incredible talent.

I never met Ms. Mazzie but I saw her perform many times on many stages, including twice in the 2000 revival of Kiss Me, Kate. She was real, real good.

Bob Woodward's in the news a lot these days. If anyone's reading this who's too young to remember Watergate, here's a TED Talk that Woodward gave early last year that will tell you what that was all about, with many unspoken analogies to what's going on today…

I bought Bob Woodward's book Fear but may not have time to read it for a while. Here's an Amazon link if you want to get a copy.

In the meantime, here's an article by Andrew Prokop about Woodward's book and his modus operandi. Ever since The Final Days, which Woodward wrote with his then-partner Carl Bernstein, I've been a bit uncomfy with something. I wrote about it twelve years ago here…

One thing I've always wondered about in books and reporting of the Woodward variety is the "blind source" whose identity seems obvious. There are a lot of them in his work…in The Final Days, especially. For example, it seems obvious that Alexander Haig was a major source for the book. There are many scenes that could never had been reported if Haig had declined to speak with Bernstein and Woodward. Now, if you were to ask Woodstein about it, they'd say, "Sorry…can't divulge sources." But in this case, if Haig didn't talk to them for the book and provide the accounts that were the basis of those pages, the authors are guilty of deliberately conveying a false impression that he had.

I'm sure they would argue, "Well, we didn't say he did." But they sure led people to believe he did.

Then there's the scene in which Nixon and Henry Kissinger get down on their knees and pray together. Much dialogue is quoted, a lot of details are included. You figure it could only have come from someone who was there…but only Nixon and Kissinger were present, and they say in the introduction that Nixon refused to be interviewed for the book. Ergo, while Woodward and Bernstein are pointedly refusing to say that Kissinger was the source, they're also quite consciously leading everyone to believe that he was.

It's how Woodward works. So far, he's had a pretty good track record for accuracy…or at least for not having things be disproven. I'm not entirely comfortable with his tactics but the guy sure gets results.

Here from the days when you were legally not allowed to have a talk show without bringing on Tony Randall as a guest is the entire first episode (minus commercials) of Late Night with Conan O'Brien. It aired 9/13/93 and in addition to Tony, his guests were John Goodman and Drew Barrymore.

I thought it was a decent start and that he got much better in a hurry. Apparently, folks were running through the halls of NBC declaring him a disaster and he was getting "renewed" (if you can call it that) for two weeks at a time, doing shows with the constant possibility of pending cancellation. It was and still is a great success story of the television industry that he not only survived but succeeded.

Reportedly, the entire run of that series will soon be available online and I'm looking forward to revisiting many episodes in his first ten years. I lost my interest in the show later on when it seemed to be less about good, clever writing and more about the ad-libbing abilities of its host. But there were plenty of years there when it was as innovative as anything anyone (even Dave) had done at that hour. Here's how it all started…

Whenever this country has a natural disaster — as Hurricane Florence is almost certain to be — I get really, really frustrated by how the nonsense of politics threatens human lives and property. We can be better prepared to deal with these things and we should be better prepared. It seems to be a given that this country will spend whatever it takes for military reasons, prepping to go out and kill all enemies even when they aren't coming for us. But being ready to deal with hurricanes and earthquakes — which are going to happen, we know — are treated with an attitude of "We'll figure out what to do about the damage after it happens."

I feel very bad right now for the folks in the Carolinas and surrounding states. They can't feel very confident that their government will be there for them; not with what's coming out of Washington. Thousands of Americans died in Puerto Rico because of Hurricane Maria but that's not a big deal if you can dismiss it all as a lie cooked up by the Democrats to make Donald J. Trump look bad. The man lives in a world where everything he touches gets an A-plus — an easy thing to achieve when you only recognize the grades you give yourself.

But disasters that claim lives and level homes cannot be a partisan thing. If you look back on this blog, you'll see me saying during all administrations that we needed to do more to be ready for these kinds of things. I blame the news media too. In the era of 24/7 coverage where all the channels and newspapers grasp for developments they can label "Breaking News," they couldn't find more time to show us what was happening in San Juan.

Sorry this isn't funnier but I'm in my cynical, helpless mood today. I just donated money to Operation USA, which is that charity I mention here. They will be there for the folks who are now threatened but they won't be everywhere. They'll be applying band-aids to gaping wounds but at least there will be those band-aids. Private charities haven't the resources to do much more than that. Our government does but you just know Trump will be sitting there saying, "Okay, send some money to North Carolina but Virginia doesn't get a cent because they didn't vote for me!"

Saturday evening, November 23, 1963 — the day after John F. Kennedy was assassinated — I first saw my favorite movie. Note that I said "favorite." I'm not claiming it's the best ever made because that would involve comparing it to other movies with completely different goals and merits, and I think that's a pointless argument. I don't know what the best movie ever made is and see absolutely no reason why I have to pick one and defend my selection. But I do know which one is my favorite: It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.

Every time I say this, someone who doesn't understand the difference between "favorite" and "best" wants to argue with me. That's like telling someone who thought their mother's meat loaf was the most delicious food that they're wrong. Or if someone said his wife was the most beautiful woman in the world and you said, 'No, no! You're absolutely wrong! She's an ugly pig!"

Yes, it's long. It's supposed to be long. Yes, it's cluttered. The length and the clutter are part of the joy for some of us. You didn't laugh once during it? Hey, that ain't my problem. You might try not watching it again.

Those of you who do want to watch it again and who live near Los Angeles are in luck. You'll have that opportunity the evening of Wednesday, November 7. Not only that but you can see it where I did on 11/23/63 in the theater in which it first opened.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World debuted to the general public on November 7, 1963 at what was then called the Pacific Cinerama Dome on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. In fact, that was also the date that the Pacific Cinerama Dome opened to the general public. It's now the Arclight Cinerama Dome but other than that, it hasn't changed too much. And since it's the theater's 55th anniversary, they're running a number of other movies shot in Cinerama during the next month or so, like Grand Prix and How the West Was Won.

If you'd like to attend the 55th anniversary screening of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, you can order tickets right now on this page.

Rumor has it there will be some kind of program or panel that evening but I can't figure what it might be. Only three named actors from the film are still alive — Carl Reiner, Barrie Chase and Nicholas Georgiade. Mr. Reiner is 96 years old and is not committing to many (maybe any) public appearances these days…and besides, he's not that fond of the film. Ms. Chase is lovely and wonderful but she had a small role and she isn't a panel. Mr. Georgiade is retired and outta state and, again, he had a pretty small role. (He's the detective who goes down to the crash site with Norman Fell.) But if the Arclight can throw something together, great.

Yes, I will be there. In fact, I'm taking my lady friend Amber to see it for the first time. I've introduced her to a lot of wonderful movies that were made before she was born but I held off showing her Mad World on home video because, as I'm sure you know, this is a film that truly needs a big screen and a big audience.

So far, the film I've shown her that she liked best has been The French Connection but this has more laughs, a better car chase and a cameo by The Three Stooges. If by some chance she doesn't love it, then attendees will be treated to a bonus feature that evening: They can come out to the lobby afterwards and watch the two of us break up. She's beautiful and wonderful but there are things in this world that you just can't forgive.

I haven't written anything here about the Serena Williams "meltdown" because I'm congenitally incapable of being interested in tennis. I have the feeling though that this view of the whole matter from Kevin Drum is correct.

• Bob Woodward's new book must scare the hell out of Donald Trump. There are a lot of things good and bad about Woodward but I'll bet Trump only knows these three words: Brought…down…Nixon.

That's a photo of me from around 1980.  I was not at a Playboy Club when it was taken.  I was on the set of a TV show I was writing and the lovely lady was a Playboy model playing a Playboy bunny but she was not an actual Playboy bunny.  Her name is Rosanne Katon and she's now one of the folks behind Operation USA, a wonderful charity that I support and plug here often.  Given how many lives it has saved around the world, I should probably plug it more often and send them even more money.

I was though a member of the old Playboy Club, Los Angeles chapter — the one in the massive Century City Entertainment Complex. Not only is the club not there anymore, neither is the massive Entertainment Complex. Here, stolen from another of my websites, is a remembrance of my visits to the club there…

I was given a free membership in 1981 (courtesy of Hef himself) and I couldn't resist going a few times, partly to see the Bunnies, partly to see what the Playboy Club experience was all about…and partly to see some of the oddest dinner show entertainment in town. I dunno who booked the room or what was on their minds but the shows all evoked what I call the Springtime for Hitler look. At times, it was like they were searching for people who actually did the kind of thing Bill Murray had parodied on Saturday Night Live.

The oddest was a lady…and given her act, it's ironic that I don't recall her name. But I'd never heard of her before and I'm pretty sure I've never heard of her since. Her act was all what I call "Ego Songs." Every one was about her: "I've Got the Music In Me," "I've Gotta Be Me," "This is My Life," "My Way," "I'll Make My Own World," etc. It was a variation on what the eminent philosopher Daffy Duck once called "pronoun trouble." Between the songs, she talked about — surprise, surprise — herself and her career, as if any of that was of vital interest to us. Then for her closer, she pulled out all stops and performed what still stands as the single greatest example of Excessive Ego I have ever seen on a stage.

The great singer-songwriter Peter Allen once wrote a tune called, "Quiet Please, There's a Lady on Stage." It was about Judy Garland, who was recently deceased when he wrote it. She was also his mother-in-law. It's a nice little tribute tune that quietly asks that people remember Ms. Garland (even though she is not named in the song) and to understand that despite her occasional public shortcomings, she was a great person. A very touching number.

Well, the woman at The Playboy Club closed with that song. Only she changed some lyrics and the emphasis of others and made it about herself. There's a line that goes, "Stand for the ovation," and she kept singing it over and over, commanding us to give her a standing ovation. People finally did, just so she'd shut up and end the show. If we hadn't, we'd all still be there listening to her screaming out, "Stand for the ovation." Then she took a tearful, humble bow, left the stage and came around to each table for praise, to offer autographs and to pass out business cards that told us where we could order her new album. Even the Bunnies in the room were muttering, "How can she parade around like that?"

The entertainment at The Playboy Club wasn't all dreadful. I remember one peppy dance revue that included ten or fifteen minutes of great stand-up comedy by a young Hispanic guy I'd never heard of before. First time I ever saw Paul Rodriguez.

Food at The Playboy Club was a mixed blessing…edible but not worth the price. The best thing was the steak and it came with a lavishly-produced baked potato. Your Serving Bunny would roll a cart to your table loaded down with toppings — butter, sour cream, bacon bits, chives, salsa, etc. A very big deal was made out of having your baker dressed precisely the way you liked it. My Serving Bunnies were always disheartened that I just wanted a little butter and I sometimes let them add bacon bits not because I like them on a potato but because I couldn't stand to disappoint a beautiful woman. The service was pretty decent except that Bunnies always had to keep dashing off to other tables to join in a chorus of "Happy Birthday" and the presentation of a little bunny cake with a candle in it. Some nights, it seemed every single table there was someone's birthday outing.

What I think killed The Playboy Clubs — or at least, that one — was that anybody could go to them…and did. There was nothing special about the clientele. You didn't look around and see a younger, hipper throng. You saw a crowd that apart from the absence of children, could have been at the Sizzler. I once asked a Bunny I knew there how often Hef came around. She said, "About once a year for some special press conference or event." Then, letting me in on a secret that could have cost her her tail, she told me, "He usually doesn't stay for dinner but when he has to, he has his own chef come in and prepare his meal special."

I started to really feel like an exploited tourist when I went there. The name, prices and "club" premise promised something more than a mediocre restaurant with bad entertainment and good-looking waitresses in what looked like uncomfortable costumes…but that's all you got. My research failed to turn up the date when the Century City club closed and I think I know why that information is so elusive. It's because when it happened, nobody cared.

All the Playboy Clubs closed, probably in some synchronicity with the sales of the magazine swan-diving downwards. Still, every now and then, someone tries opening a new one somewhere and it lasts about as long as a trusted aide in the Trump White House. The Playboy folks are trying one now in New York and I'm kinda fascinated as to why they think it'll work this time…and on 42nd Street near the Lincoln Tunnel, of all places. This sounds like such a surefire loser of an enterprise that there must be some obscure, non-obvious reason for optimism that I cannot fathom. We shall discuss what it might be in another post here in the next few days.