Robin Leach, the veteran entertainment journalist who got famous celebrating the excesses of the rich and famous, died early this morning at the age of 76. He had been hospitalized since last November when he suffered a stroke in Cabo San Lucas. I mean no disrespect to his passing but…hey, isn't that kind of the way you'd expect Robin Leach to go?

I only met him once but that was enough to see that he was a man of great humor and spirit, and that he didn't undertake any of his endeavors with false seriousness…or even the true kind. I liked him in the recording studio and I liked him on TV. I've told this story before here but it's appropriate to repeat it today…

Here's another one of those "incredible coincidence" stories you won't believe.  But I have witnesses to this one, and am quite prepared to take a polygraph that it happened just the way I say it happened.

For much of a decade, I wrote and voice-directed a cartoon show called Garfield and Friends.  This was great fun because the Powers That Be (aka Jim Davis, creator of the lasagna-loving feline) allowed me to write pretty much whatever I wanted, and to cast whomever I felt suitable to do the guest voices.

One week, I penned an episode entitled, Lifestyles of the Fat and Furry, which burlesqued the then-popular TV series, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, hosted by Robin Leach.  The program chronicled the indulgent creature comforts of folks with vast amounts of fame and/or cash, usually both.  Teetering tenuously on the ledge of self-parody, the show drew much of its charm from the fustian, hyperkinetic narration of Mr. Leach.

Having written my parody of their parody, I set about to secure Robin Leach himself to do the voice of Robin Leach.  I figured he could handle the role.  About a week before we would be recording the voice track, I phoned his office in Los Angeles.  They told me to call his office in New York.

I called his office in New York.  They told me to call his office in Connecticut.

I called his office in Connecticut.  They told me to call his office in London.

I called his office in London.  They told me that Robin was on a six-week expedition down the Brahmaputra River, or somewhere equally remote.  Wherever it was, he wouldn't be back 'til long after our tape date.  So I shrugged and booked Frank Welker.

Frank Welker is the most gifted, amazing voice magician who has ever stood before a microphone in Hollywood.  Frank can sound like anyone or anything.  He is heard constantly in animated cartoons but also logs many hours doing voice matches and dubbing in live-action motion pictures.  You hear him often in movies without knowing you're hearing him.

I knew he did a mean Robin Leach so I arranged with his agent for Frank to come in and play the part.  I gave him a call time of 2:00.

Nine AM that morning, I walked into Buzzy's Recording Studio on Melrose Avenue for a full day of Garfield recording.  I asked Marie at the desk, as I always did, if we were in Studio A or Studio B.  She said — and I swear, I'm not making this up — "You're in Studio A.  Robin Leach is in B."

Robin Leach???

That was what the lady said.  I walked directly into Studio B and there — standing at a microphone, wearing a shirt imprinted with images of hundred dollar bills — was Robin Leach.  In person.

I explained to him what we were doing over in A, and how I'd attempted to contact him, and how I'd given up and hired an impressionist, and he couldn't have been nicer.  "Well, if the offer's still open, I'd be delighted to play me," he said.  About an hour later, after he finished the spots he was recording, he came over to our studio and played Robin Leach like he'd been doing it all his life.

In fact, he played himself with enormous good-humor and that same sense of show biz and self-mocking that had made his show a hit.  He exaggerated the vocal quirkiness of the Leach style more than I'd probably have allowed a mimic to do.

Robin was long gone by 2:00 when Frank Welker showed up.  "Well, I'm here to do that Robin Leach bit," Frank announced.  "I was warming up in the car on the way over."

"Uh, Frank," I said sheepishly.  "I'm sorry but there's been a change of plans.  I have a different role for you to play…not Robin Leach…"

Frank was puzzled.  "What happened to the Robin Leach role?"

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this but, uh, we found someone who does a better Robin Leach than you do…"

Frank is a wonderful, cooperative person but he seemed a bit affronted — like his honor had been besmirched.  He looked hurt so I added, "I'm sorry…I thought this other guy was a little better, Here — you can hear for yourself."  And I told Andy the Engineer to run a few seconds of the voice track we'd recorded earlier that morn.

As the mellifluous tones of R. Leach boomed through the speakers, I saw shock upon the face of the best impressionist in the business.  There, framed by stark horror, was the realization that someone had bested him in the category of Robin Leach impressions.

(I finally told him the truth.  I didn't have the heart…)

• A few weeks ago, I got up each morning and wondered, "What stupid, nasty thing has Trump done now?" These days, I get up and wonder, "What new legal jam is Trump in now?" It feels much better, thank you.

Russ Heath was one of the great comic book illustrators of the field. Because he veered away from super-heroes and more "commercial" genres, he often did not get the respect he deserved but…boy, when he drew a war comic, no one could draw a tank like Russ Heath. And when he drew beautiful women or cityscapes or just about anything that existed in reality, he was unmatched in his ability to capture reality and put it down on the page.

He was also a colorful figure with a wicked sense of humor. He was hard to get to know but once you did, you never for a moment doubted that it was worth the trouble.

And he was devoted to this art. He drew one comic book story I wrote and he must have called me at least twice per page to ask minute but valid questions: How did I envision staging this panel? Exactly what kind of expression should be on that character's face in this panel? How tall was this character compared to others. With someone else, I might have said, "Stop asking these questions. Just draw the damned thing!" But I could see the painstaking precision Russ put into his work, making everything as close to perfect as he could get it, not for his editor's satisfaction but for his own.

Like a lot of older artists, Russ found a lucrative industry in doing re-creations of his old covers. You could pay him to expertly redo a scene from Sea Devils or G.I. Combat or any of them but you had to answer a question first. The question was "Do you want it exact or can I fix things?" Russ was so intense about doing his best work that when he looked back at old work from decades past, he always saw ways to improve things. He would do it either way for you but was happier if you let him fix stuff.

Russ was born September 29, 1926 in New York and raised in New Jersey. He began drawing at an early age and his first published work in comics appears to have been for Holyoke Publishing's Captain Aero Comics in 1942. He was sixteen years old and still in high school. He served in the Air Force in World War II and his career really got going after he got out of the service. He joined the staff at Timely Comics (what we now call Marvel) in 1947 and was a constant presence in the comic book field ever after.

He was probably best known for his work on DC's war comics and he did a lot of the artwork — probably more than some people thought — on the Little Annie Fanny strip that Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder did for Playboy. Kurtzman was always late and that led to a story I told on this blog back in 2010…

One time when deadlines were nearing meltdown, Harvey Kurtzman called Heath in to assist in a marathon work session at the Playboy Mansion in Chicago. Russ flew in and was given a room there, and spent many days aiding Kurtzman and artist Will Elder in getting one installment done of the strip. When it was completed, Kurtzman and Elder left…but Heath just stayed. And stayed. And stayed some more.

He had a free room as well as free meals whenever he wanted them from Hef's 24-hour kitchen. He also had access to whatever young ladies were lounging about…so he thought, "Why leave?" He decided to live there until someone told him to get out…and for months, no one did. Everyone just kind of assumed he belonged there. It took quite a while before someone realized he didn't and threw him and his drawing table out.

As I related in my speech, when I was 14 years old, I used to take comic books over to my friend Randy Jacobs' house. His parents didn't allow him to spend money on comics but it was okay for him to read mine. And while he read mine, I read from his secret (his parents didn't know about it) stash of Playboy magazines. Well, maybe "read" is the wrong word here. In truth, I mainly looked at the pictures. If you've ever been a 14 year old boy, you know that few things can look as wonderful as Miss October when you're that age.

One day, Randy and I made an incredible discovery. One of the best artists in the DC war comics I brought over was this person named Russ Heath. And on the Little Annie Fanny strips in Playboy, the credits said that one of the artists was Russ Heath. We were shocked because we assumed that if you drew for Comics Code-approved comic books, you were barred from drawing naked women anywhere. I think Randy even suggested, "Maybe it's a different Russ Heath" but I knew. The tanks were drawn with the same meticulous care as the breasts. And later, when I got to know Russ, I realized they were drawn with the same painstaking research. I also found out something else amazing about him.

In one issue of Playboy that Randy had, there was a pictorial on the Playboy Mansion, which was then in Chicago. There was a photo of one of Hef's movie screenings in his private screening room. It was furnished with two-person love seats that faced the screen and in each love seat, there was some male crony of Hef's with his arm around his gorgeous date. Right in the middle of the photo was a handsome guy to be envied, cuddling up with Miss Whatever Month She Was. I had no idea who that man was or what he did but I wanted to be him.

Flash forward to years later and, yes, I know you can see the payoff on this from a block away. Russ and I are both working at Hanna-Barbera and one day, we're out to lunch and he's telling Tales From the Mansion. He happens to tell about one time they dragged him away from his drawing board to take part in a photoshoot in Hef's screening room. I instantly thought of that cool guy in the love seat and when I got home, I hauled out that issue. (Yes, I have a copy. I have every issue of Playboy, in large part because I always try to have every issue of everything. Keeping this set up is easy because years ago when I did a show with Hefner, I told him I had every issue to date and he said, "Well, let's keep your collection going" and he gifted me with a lifetime subscription. Every time I see him bragging about having sex with his six current girl friends, I hope he meant my lifetime and not his.)

Well, anyway, you see where this is going. The guy in the photo? Russ. Before that revelation, I only admired him as a great artist.

Russ was a joy to know. His work was a joy to see. He'd been very sick the last few years, often dependent on the kindness of his many fans and admirers. He passed away Thursday evening at the age of 91 and the cause of death appears to have been cancer. But his work will live on and those of us who were lucky enough to know him will never forget him.

Ezra Klein asks the not-insignificant question, "Did Trump unleash an economic miracle, or take credit for Obama's work?"  The answer, as you might imagine, is mostly the latter.

Here's a helluva find. This is color footage of Johnny Carson's monologue from The Tonight Show for Friday, August 24, 1964. To put this into context, Johnny started on that show on October 1, 1962 so he was in his second year.

The show in those days was an hour and 45 minutes per night. It started at 11:15 on stations that ran a fifteen-minute newscast at 11 PM. Because some stations had a half-hour of news there, there would be a second opening of The Tonight Show at 11:30 with the theme music and a repeat billboarding of the guests and then Johnny would welcome the viewers who were just joining them.

Those viewers missed the monologue and as more and more local stations went to a 30-minute newscast at 11, fewer and fewer viewers were seeing the first fifteen.  This ticked off Mr. Carson who felt the monologue was important to the program. Beginning in February of '65, he stopped appearing in the first fifteen minutes.  At first, he went on strike (more or less), announcing shortly before tape time each night that he was ill but would probably recover in time to the do the monologue for the 11:30 segment.

NBC got the message and agreed to have The First Fifteen hosted by announcer Ed McMahon and bandleader Skitch Henderson. They would play games, have a band number, chat, sometimes interview a guest who wasn't important enough to be on with Johnny.  Not television's finest programming.  Then when the show restarted at 11:30, Johnny would come out and do his monologue for the entire nation.  You'll catch a brief glimpse of Henderson in this clip. Ed McMahon was off that night and filling in, they had Jack Haskell, a former big band singer who was heard announcing half the shows that came out of New York in the sixties.

The First Fifteen lasted until the beginning of 1967 when NBC lined up all its affiliates and The Tonight Show became a 90-minute program starting at 11:30 PM. By then, Skitch was gone, replaced briefly by Milton DeLugg and then finally by Doc Severinsen.

Anyway, here's a peek at some of the oldest surviving color footage of Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show…

I feel very bad for the folks in Hawaii who have a big, probably-destructive hurricane bearing down on them. It makes me more frustrated that so many government resources are going towards nonsense and human misbehavior. Helping out our fellow citizens in times of disaster ought to take precedence over everything. Here's some of the everything…

• Hey, you'll never guess who doesn't think anyone should be investigating Donald Trump's personal life and affairs. It's Ken Starr, the guy who thought it was in the public interest to know every minute detail of Bill Clinton's sex life, right down to descriptions of the presidential penis.
• William Saletan lays out the case that Donald Trump betrayed his country and in the process, answers the oft-asked question, "Where's the collusion?" According to Mr. Saletan, it's all in the public record even before Robert Mueller's office files its report.
• The White House is opposing a bill that would make it more difficult for a foreign power to hack our elections. Gee, I can't imagine why they're against that. Adam K. Raymond has the story.
• As Steve Benen points out, Trump is doing everything he can to pretend that he and Michael Cohen were never close. One of these days, Donald Trump Jr is going to be indicted, someone will ask the president to comment and he'll say, "Donald Who?"
• Daniel Larison keeps writing about how Trump is botching up our relationship with Iran. It's turning out that undoing everything Obama did even when you don't have a better alternative is not a great way to formulate foreign policy.
• Ezra Klein points out that one of the key issues on which Trump won in 2016 was stamping out government corruption. It's going to be very difficult to run on that in 2020 if two-thirds of your associates are in prison.

I seem to be unable to turn on my TV without seeing Michael Avenatti. I even thought I saw him in an old Scooby Doo I wrote that was on Boomerang today. The guy's on so much that even Steve Harvey's saying, "Enough, already!"  Well, better him than Kellyanne Conway.

Oh, and by the way: I'm getting real tired of reporters trying to get Sarah Huckabee Sanders to admit that Trump did something wrong.  She's just doing her job.  The problem is that her job is to just keep saying, in answer to every question, "He did nothing wrong.  No charges have been filed."  It's like trying to get the recorded voice on the phone that tells you the time to instead tell you a knock-knock joke.  Sarah's not allowed to say what you want her to say, people!

An indecently adorable kitten…

A quick flashback to 2005 on this blog — and can you believe I've been doing this for longer than that? It had just been revealed that the infamous "Deep Throat" of Watergate was former F.B.I. biggie Mark Felt and I wrote this here…

I dunno about the other cable channels but MSNBC turned into the Bash Deep Throat Channel yesterday afternoon. They had three or four shows in a row on the unmasking of Mark Felt as the fabled secret source and Pat Buchanan was on every one of them to call Felt a "snake" or worse. At times, he was joined or spelled by other former Nixon aides, including David Gergen, G. Gordon Liddy, Monica Crowley and Chuck Colson, all suggesting that Felt had impure motives, that he disgraced his position, etc. One can understand a certain anger at the figurehead of Nixon's bringdown, but it seemed like a strained exercise. Any "whistleblower" is, almost by definition, going to cause his peers to feel betrayed. If nothing else, they have cause to be embarrassed that he did something to uncover wrongdoing while they supported it with their complicity.

For years after he got out of the slammer, Liddy was making the rounds of the talk shows, flogging his book and comparing John Dean to Judas Iscariot…an analogy which, as many interviewers pointed out, worked if you thought Richard Nixon was somehow comparable to Jesus Christ. Liddy kept saying that one of the lowest things one can do in the world is to "rat" on your friends, which struck me as a silly schoolyard comparison. You don't tell the teacher that Jimmy used too many paper towels in the little boys' room but if others are involved in serious crimes and you know about it, that's a different matter. One time, Liddy was advancing his view on Larry King's program and, in a rare instance of Mr. King challenging a guest, he asked how Liddy felt about some of John Gotti's men turning on him and testifying to help get him convicted. Were they "rats?" I remember the moment because it was one of those rare times on an interview show when you could see someone get knocked out. Liddy didn't have an answer.

As Jonathan Chait notes, Donald Trump seems to have the same definition of "loyalty" as Mafia bosses did: You don't tell the Feds that your boss is committing major crimes and having people whacked if they get in his way. One of the reasons Trump is in such trouble is that, first and foremost, he picked his staff largely on the basis of his concept of loyalty as opposed to, say, competence. And the second problem is that he didn't pick very well.

The other day after the double-header of Cohen and Manafort having the word "guilty" appended to their names, I talked with a friend who still backs Trump. Most of the folks I know in that category think Trump's a lying crook but they also think that of anyone else who's in a position to hold that job and they like the policies of the current lying crook more than most of the alternatives.

But this one friend is fantasizing about a day soon when the investigations all come up empty, Robert Mueller folds his hand because all he's got is a pair of deuces, and Trump is viewed as a respectable leader by most. I don't think that day is coming. I think it's going to be like this or worse…certainly for the rest of his stay in office and probably long after.

He thinks Trump is like teflon: The scandals don't stick. A lot of people think that (here's someone else saying it) but that's also what they said about "Teflon John" Gotti. The accusations of wrongdoing didn't stick to him until, one day, they did.

It's Baby Panda Time again! Lee Lee, a grown panda in the Chendgu Zoo in China gave birth to a healthy pair of twin cubs. Problem: Mother pandas who have twins typically care for one baby and abandon the other. Solution: Someone apparently saw The Parent Trap with Hayley Mills and decided to try the strategy from that film…

I can be slow at times but it's dawning on me why Rudy Giuliani is running around, saying things that don't make sense and which contradict what he said last week. It makes perfect sense if you figure he's playing to an audience of one.

It doesn't matter to this man if most people think he's a major weasel and a lawyer who doesn't know much about the law. All he cares about is if Donald Trump pats him on the head. Trump judges people by how fanatically they fight for him, not whether they succeed. I wonder what reward Rudy thinks he's going to reap but he's probably wrong. Chris Christie tried the same blind subservience and you saw where he is today. (By the way: Where is he today?)

I call your attention to two articles. The first is the best piece I've read about where we are after the Fast News Day we had yesterday. It's by Matt Yglesias and here's a key section…

…the Mueller investigation exists fundamentally not because Trump/Russia is the only thing worth investigating but because it happens to be the only thing that a handful of congressional Republicans wanted to see an investigation of. They've been comfortable sweeping everything else under the rug — Trump's shady business dealings, post-election financial conflicts of interest, and alleged sexual assaults.

A fluky confluence of circumstances elicited Cohen's confession, and now it's not clear what the system can or will do with the evidence he's provided. But what is abundantly clear is that the essentially uniform unwillingness of House and Senate Republicans to undertake any kind of meaningful oversight of the executive branch has left the country teetering in a state of perpetual crisis.

So that may be what the upcoming election will be about…do you want your representatives to tolerate and hide any crimes Trump and his mob may have committed? We're going to hear the word "accountability" a lot.

And then read this one by Matt Taibbi. It's not about Michael Cohen or Paul Manafort. It's about what's becoming the style of the Republican candidate and about Corey Stewart, Virginia's Republican candidate for the Senate. Key section…

If anyone were to try to articulate a political theory of Donald Trump, this might be it: lying-ism. It's not so much about policy — Stewart runs to both the left and right of traditional Republicans, depending on the issue — as it is about using aggression as an electoral strategy.

You turn everything into a fight, renouncing decorum as a trick of the establishment (Stewart actually promised to run a "vicious, ruthless" race). Then, court voters' secret resentments by relentlessly ripping your opponent as the Fucker Responsible for Everything, using accusations that are true, not true, doesn't matter, just make sure you never stop.

As I was reading Taibbi's piece, I came across a speech on CSPAN-2 — Celebrity Lawyer Michael Avenatti out in some rural community, giving a speech somewhere that sounded like a presidential campaign speech while all the time insisting he hasn't decided if he'll enter the race in 2020.

It also sounded like a Democratic version of the kind of speech Taibbi describes except that Avenatti's a Democrat and he's a lot more careful with the facts. But the selling point was not his policies. It was what a tough, take-no-prisoners kind of fighter he claims to be…and I don't know how I feel about that. I do know I don't like the emphasis on aggression over accuracy and how little that seems to matter to some people.

Last week in Maine, my pal Paul Harris and his wife were driving along U.S. Route 1 when they spotted a sign advertising a new musical based on the movie, Grumpy Old Men.  It stars Hal Linden and Sally Struthers, neither of whom plays one of the Grumpy Old Men.

They were unable to procure tickets to the (supposedly) Broadway-bound show at the Ogunquit Playhouse.  If they had, they would have seen some of the last work of my friend, the late Nick Meglin.  Nick, who left us suddenly last June, was a long-time editor for MAD Magazine.  Some called him the heart, soul and sense o' humor at that publication where he served for more than three decades but less than five.

In retirement, Nick turned his formidable skills to musical comedy.  He wrote the lyrics for Grumpy Old Men: The Musical and when I saw him at the end of May, he was looking forward to the tryout in Ogunquit.  Here is the bio of him that appears in the GOM:TM playbill…

NICK MEGLIN (Lyrics) was best known as the editor of MAD Magazine, a position he held for most of his career. His critically-acclaimed musical Tim & Scrooge (book and lyrics) won Broadway World's Best New Musical Award in 2016. Nick authored 15 books including "MAD About the 50's," "MAD About the 60's," "Rotten Rhymes and Other Crimes," "MAD Stew," and "Honor Thy Godfather," "Superfan," and "Superfan Again!" as well as articles in over 300 national publications. He was particularly proud of his book, "Drawing From Within," written with his daughter Diane, as well as an episode of "The Pink Panther" written with his son, Chris. An earlier publication, "The Art of Humorous Illustration," is considered the definitive work on the subject. Nick made over 50 TV appearances including "The Today Show," "60 Minutes," "Larry King," "Howard Stern," and "Robert Klein" and several NPR programs. Comedy albums include "Everything You Wanted to Know About the Godfather — But Don't Ask!"

He was also when I saw him excited about an upcoming production of his other show, Tim and Scrooge, but I'll be darned if I can remember where it is. Somewhere between now and Christmas, some theater in this country is doing that show and Nick planned to be there for that, too.

Anyway, it's oddly delightful to me that one friend of mine stumbled across another friend's show in what I assume is not a huge town. (Just checked: Population is 918. I assumed right.) Here's a feature about Grumpy Old Men: The Musical there. I'm sad that Nick's not around to see it and even sadder than he's not around so I can see him.

Didn't get a lot of work done today. The news was too interesting to not watch, especially Jake Tapper on CNN ping-ponging between coverage of the Michael Cohen court proceeding in Manhattan and the verdicts in the Paul Manafort trial in Alexandria.

Unlike some of my friends, I don't think this is the end of the Trump Presidency but it might be the beginning of the beginning of the end. As the people he's chosen to surround himself with go to jail, it's going to be harder and harder for his supporters to convince themselves that it's all Fake News and a big Witch Hunt. And everyone who works for Trump has to be thinking about Industrial Strength Ass-Covering and what they have to bargain with if/when it comes down to plea bargains.

I was struck by contrasts. They keep moving articles around on the front page of Talking Points Memo but a little while ago there, I read this statement from Michael Cohen's attorney, Lanny Davis…

Michael Cohen took this step today so that his family can move on to the next chapter. This is Michael fulfilling his promise made on July 2nd to put his family and country first and tell the truth about Donald Trump. Today he stood up and testified under oath that Donald Trump directed him to commit a crime by making payments to two women for the principal purpose of influencing an election. If those payments were a crime for Michael Cohen, then why wouldn't they be a crime for Donald Trump?

And right under it was this statement from Donald Trump's lawyer, Rudy Giuliani…

There is no allegation of any wrongdoing against the President in the government's charges against Mr. Cohen. It is clear that, as the prosecutor noted, Mr. Cohen's actions reflect a pattern of lies and dishonesty over a significant period of time.

Sounds like Rudy borrowed one of Paul Manafort's ostrich jackets and buried his head in the sand.

• Unhappiest man in the country today: Donald Trump, whose lawyer has said he committed a crime at Trump's direction.
  Second unhappiest: Stephen Colbert, who's on vacation this week.

• But…but…I thought Donald Trump only surrounded himself with the best people…

Last June when Amber and I were in New York, a special joy was a private tour we took of the Ed Sullivan Theater in that city. Its tenant, Late Night with Stephen Colbert, was dark that week…which was great for us because no one was busy prepping a show and we could wander around and talk to folks. And a special joy within that special joy was talking with Pat Farmer, who is usually referred to as a longtime stagehand in that shrine to show business.

Actually, he has had other titles there — some involving props — and was a frequent on-camera presence when Dave Letterman did his program in that building. You may remember a recurring segment, "Pat and Kenny Read Oprah Transcripts." Most times when Dave did a bit right outside the studio, you could see Pat clearing the area or tossing something off the roof. From all reports, he was a tireless worker and very, very good at his job, no matter what silly job they stuck him with.

Pat retired last August 2 and on that night's Colbert episode, the host (as he often does) exited the stage and the cameras followed him into the lobby where a bar is set up. Usually, some sort of joke is set up there that pertains to the show just concluded and that night, it was Pat behind the bar. You saw him there under the credits but what you didn't see, because it was cut from the broadcast, was a nice acknowledgement of Pat's long service not just from Colbert but, via an e-mail Stephen read, from David Letterman. I don't think this video clip will be there forever but right now, you can watch it on this page.