I have occasionally recommended (highly!) a show called Puppet Up! which is produced by the Henson Company. That's "Henson" as in "Jim Henson" and the operation and this show is run by his son, Brian — also a very brilliant worker of puppets. The show, which they do from time to time whenever the mood strikes them, is a largely-improvised presentation for adults and it features puppets who often say the "f" word and are not always decently clad. It's a lot of fun and since it's different every time, you can go again and again. They also replicate a few of the classic routines on which the First Generation of Muppets built their brand.

For several years now, the show has been presented in a soundstage on the Henson Studios Lot in Hollywood. The fact that that complex has been sold is probably the reason that they're moving. Tickets are either now on sale or about to go on sale for performances from Wednesday, July 16 through Sunday, July 20 at the Kirk Douglas Theater in Culver City. If you're going to be anywhere near there on those dates, go. You can find out more about the show here and order tickets here.

It's Randy Rainbow. Yes, it's Randy Rainbow…definitely Randy Rainbow…

Here's a really odd video…a 1994 roast of Morey Amsterdam — about two years before he passed away. It was taped at a place called The Ventura Club that was out in Sherman Oaks in a building that's now a Poquito Mas fast food joint and a Pilates studio. The video runs an hour and forty-seven minutes and I haven't watched all of it just as you won't watch all of it.

But one of my favorite stand-up comedians of a bygone era, Dave Barry, is one of the hosts and among the speakers are Gene Barry, Rose Marie, Paul Winchell and Foster Brooks. I don't want to cast any aspersions on the character of the departed but I have the feeling Foster Brooks had a few drinks. Rose Marie is probably the best one and her speech starts around an hour and seven minutes in.

Thanks to Brian Dreger for telling me about this. If you fast-forward and skip ahead a lot, you might enjoy some of this…

This is going back maybe twenty-five years. I did some work for a TV producer who was obsessed with specificity. I didn't do a lot for him because, like I said, he was obsessed with specificity. He judged everything I said to him and everything I wrote not based on whether it was clever or funny or exciting or anything like that. The only question he seemed to ask himself about anything was "Is it specific enough?" And almost nothing was.

The first time I encountered his odd demands came when we started talking about a then-recent special I'd done for Dick Clark. He asked "How many months did you work on it?" and I replied, "About six weeks," which you'd think was a perfectly responsive response, right? But in his eyes, I'd made two mistakes, the first being the "about" part. Not specific enough.

And you know what the other mistake was? "I asked you how many months, not weeks!"

The correct answer to his question was something like "1.35 months" — and that number had to be exact. After a couple of other matters like that, he lectured me, "People in this world are too vague. They say 'That brand of cheese is three dollars a pound' when the actual price is $2.98! I prefer to deal in precision."

I said, "I'll try to be more accurate" and I did but in everything I wrote for him, he kept asking questions and demanding that I insert more specificity into the script he was paying me to write. I no longer have my early drafts of that script and it never got past the development stage but I would write something like this…

Our hero BLAINE enters the bar just as the sun can be seen setting behind him. He stops in the doorway and gives the room the once-over, registering a bit of disgust with the motley patrons who are downing drinks and pretending not to notice him.

To make this producer happy, I would have to rewrite it more like this…

Our hero John Foster BLAINE enters Guido's Tavern at 6:45 PM just as the sun is setting behind him. Much CHATTER can be heard from the patrons within as Blaine — 6'2" and 35 years of age enters wearing a dark brown, wrinkled overcoat and a hat pulled partway down his piercing brown eyes. As he moves among the patrons, the chatter dissipates and ANNIE (45 years old and Caucasian with bleached blonde hair and a cheap green cocktail dress) turns away to avoid making eye contact as does her companion HARRY, a black 30-year-old off-duty U.P.S. driver still clad in his uniform and sitting there quaffing a beer with a thick head of foam that suggests Guido's in the kind of place that doesn't fill its drinks up all the way.

"You need to give anyone who reads the script a complete picture," the producer said to me.

I tried to give him what he wanted. Oh, how I tried to give him what he wanted but he'd read something like the above and complain, "You didn't describe the bartender. If it's a bar, there must be a bartender. And how attractive is Annie? And what's Harry's last name? Blaine is coming in from the sundown. Is he wearing tinted glasses?"

It went like that for a couple of drafts of a couple of scenes — forgive my lack of specificity as to how many of each — and I finally decided to ask off the project even if it meant not being paid a cent for what I'd done. Before I could, the producer called my agent and announced that he had lost his source of funding and would have to freeze the project for the time being. My agent said, "That's up to you but you still owe my client the full amount." They haggled a bit and argued but the producer finally agreed to pay me the full amount within thirty days.

The check arrived three-and-a-half months later and it was $150 short. Specificity, it turns out, has its limits.

Let's spend some time with Jasmine Amy Rogers, star of Boop! The Musical. She and it are still playing on Broadway and I hope they still are when next I'm in the vicinity…

Charles Strouse died on Wednesday…an important figure in the annals of musical comedy. He wrote the music for a great many shows including Bye Bye Birdie, Applause and Annie. He also wrote scores for motion pictures including one of my favorites — The Night They Raided Minsky's — and unmentioned in most of the obits was his work with his frequent lyricist Lee Adams on one of the best things that ever came out of the Hanna-Barbera studio.

I speak, of course, of the 1966 animated special, Alice in Wonderland (or What's a Nice Kid Like You Doing in a Place Like This?) But obits like this one will tell you some of the other things he did, including the Superman Broadway musical and the opening theme for the TV show, All in the Family.

Here's a video from a few years back with Mr. Strouse (he's the one at the piano) talking with his collaborator Martin Charnin about Annie…

Glenn Kessler shows us how Presidential Administrations — and not just the current ones — play fast 'n' loose with financial estimates.

And Politifact shows us how even Bernie Sanders can sometimes make economic projections that seem a bit deceptive. Some folks at FactCheck.org say much the same thing.

YouTube is crawling with video clips from the recent appearance before Congress by Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. If someone was bribing this man to convince people he was unqualified and largely unable to answer questions he should be able to answer, he couldn't have done a better job. Other folks at FactCheck.org discuss one of the many things he said that was, at best, misleading.

And still others at FactCheck.org point out that Donald Trump doesn't seem to understand what the word "genocide" means.

Donald Benson wrote to inquire, with reference to animation studios…

How closely did various studios monitor comic books of their characters? I'm guessing the non-superheroes didn't bother too much about continuity, being based on theatrical cartoons or short TV episodes that rarely bothered at all. But presumably somebody was there to say Yogi has to be a real bear in Jellystone Park, or Mickey can't have a different girlfriend than Minnie, etc.

Most of the comic books based on animated properties over the years were produced out of the Los Angeles office of Western Publishing Company, first under the Dell Comics imprint and later as Gold Key and/or Whitman comics. The staff at Western then enjoyed very close relationships with the cartoon studios whose properties they were turning into comics. For one thing, they employed a lot of the same talent. Most of the writers and artists who worked on those comics also worked for the studios.

The Western Publishing Company office in L.A. did plenty of business and had much interaction with the cartoon studios in Los Angeles: Disney, Warner Brothers, Walter Lantz, Hanna-Barbera, etc. My editor at Western, Chase Craig, told me a number of stories of lunching with or visiting Walt Disney. Del Connell, who was also an editor there, did a lot of moonlighting for Western. (And Western Publishing was also an earlier investor in Disneyland.) When I met Walter Lantz and told him I'd written Woody Woodpecker comics for Chase, he told me how much he loved Chase and his whole long history with Western.

So the studios didn't worry about Western doing wrong with their properties. Hanna-Barbera did hate most of what Charlton Comics did with their characters and eventually canceled that deal. Charlton was on the other side of the country, employing no one who'd ever worked for the studio and paying them just about the lowest wages in this business. That was a problem. But it all comes down to good working relationships. When you have them, things work out fine.

That Trump guy keeps claiming that the United States is the only country that offers birthright citizenship. He is, of course, wrong — as the Associated Press reports.

And that same Trump guy keeps claiming to be an unwavering supporter of law enforcement officials. Steve Benen explains why that is not so…as if pardoning the January 6 criminals who attacked police officers wasn't evidence enough.

As I've mentioned here, I sometimes like to watch "how to cook" videos on YouTube for two reasons. One is that it's interesting to me to see how foods I eat are made. And the other reason is that most of these videos disabuse me of the silly idea that I could do what these expert chefs do. I do not have the patience to be a good cook and I will never have the time to learn how to do these things right.

The video today shows me some of the things I've done wrong when I've tried to prepare a steak at home. They've always come out lousy and I'm not trying again because I know I could never be anywhere near as competent as Brian Lagerstrom, who logged years and years learning his craft in restaurants and now makes videos like this one.

If you're a skilled cook, I envy you and you might learn something from this lesson. If you're like me, it's like watching Simone Biles or Elly De La Cruz. I see folks like them perform and I think "I'll never be able to do what they do" — and I'm right…

Apart from the obvious illegality of a President of the United States accepting a gift worth $400 million from anyone, let alone Qatar, there's another problem: The "free airplane" would cost this country a fortune, perhaps more than $400 million smackers. Steve Benen explains.

My piece here yesterday about Yogi Bear and Yogi Berra brought about twenty e-mails asking that I explain all about The Kirward Derby, another famous time when a cartoon show fiddled with the name of a celebrity. This was another one of those instances where a lawsuit was threatened and people think it was filed and the parties went to court…but all that happened was a threat was made and never pursued.

The show we now think of as Rocky and Bullwinkle actually began as a series for kids called Rocky and His Friends. It debuted on ABC's late afternoon schedule in November of 1959. Less than two years later, NBC bought a variation of the same show and slotted it at 7:00 PM on Sunday evenings just before Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color. Obviously, they hoped to lure both adults and kids to the set with what was now called The Bullwinkle Show.

The new time slot encouraged the writers to include some jokes for the parents watching. The first story arc in the (serialized from week to week) adventures of the Moose and Squirrel was about a search for a legendary hat which, when worn, makes its wearer super-intelligent. They called the hat "The Kirward Derby" — named after a TV personality named Durward Kirby who served as announcer/sidekick on The Garry Moore Show and also as co-host of Candid Camera. Those were both series on CBS.

Before long, a letter arrived from Mr. Kirby's attorney…and for the next part of the story I'm going to quote from the superb must-have book, The Moose That Roared: The Story of Jay Ward, Bill Scott, a Flying Squirrel, and a Talking Moose by my friend Keith Scott…

Jay's lawyer was instructed to reply by saying, "Tell Mr. Kirby that he has our permission to name any one of his hats after any character in our show." In fact, Ward actually sent Kirby a hat. Then he replied to Kirby's lawyer: "The only other names for the Derby — Kentucky and Brown — were already taken. We had toyed with the idea of calling it the Bullwinkle Bowler, but discarded this as being too chauvinistic. Please sue us, we love publicity." As he told the press a year later, "Whenever anybody says they are going to sue us, we always tell them we will send our lawyer right over to help them draw up the papers. Nobody has ever accepted the offer."

And that pretty much was the end of that. No lawsuit was ever filed. I seem to recall hearing somewhere that thereafter, Mr. Kirby would tell people who asked about it, "That was my lawyer acting without my knowledge. Personally, I was flattered by the reference." Which might be true or it might be what you say when you find yourself looking like a comedian who can't take a joke. (By the buy: You can order a copy of Keith's book at this link…and should.)

Lawyers send letters like that all the time, even when they know they have no legal legs on which to stand. Durward or his lawyer might even have thought Jay Ward might start selling the hats and they wanted to position themselves to demand a cut. Durward Kirby was actually kind of a funny fellow who had a fairly decent career, working in all corners of the broadcasting industry until his retirement. Almost none of the thousands of hours of TV and radio he did are available these days but a lot of people still remember the Kirward Derby.

Donald Trump keeps saying that President Dwight D. Eisenhower deported over a million people from this country. Fact-Check Guy Glenn Kessler says that ain't so.

Trump says that under this new plan to lower prescription drug prices "almost immediately." The folks at Politifact say that even if that eventually happens, it's going to take quite a while.

Trump says that other countries are to blame for high drug prices in the United States. The Associated Press says this is not true.

And FactCheck.org looks at this whole story about Trump maybe accepting the gift of a $400 million dollar airplane from Qatar and says that a lot of things being said and written about it are not true.

Marc Levy sent me the following…

I hope you are doing well. I had a question for you about a sports subject. I know you don't follow sports at all, but there's an interesting crossover into the world of animation.

As you may or may not know, yesterday marked the 100th birthday of the late Yogi Berra. If you don't know the name, Berra was a catcher with the New York Yankees from the mid-1940's until the early-1960's, and a Hall-of-Fame inductee. While he is considered by most baseball fans to be one of the greatest catchers of all time, for the general public, he is probably known more for his "unique" aphorisms (e.g., "It ain't over 'til it's over," "It gets late early around here," etc.).

While clicking around his name online, I found myself on the Yogi Bear Wikipedia page, and read the following: "Yogi's name was similar to that of contemporary baseball star Yogi Berra, who was known for his amusing quotes, such as 'half the lies they tell about me aren't true.' Berra sued Hanna-Barbera for defamation, but their management claimed the similarity was just coincidence. Berra withdrew his suit, but the defense was considered implausible."

Given your history with Hanna-Barbera, I was wondering if you had any insight into this.

Sure. Yogi Berra never sued over the bruinification of his name — and hey, I think I just invented a new word there. Since I have no history with Mr. Berra, I can't speak to his motives for not suing but I'd guess he decided it just wasn't worth the trouble or maybe he thought he'd look like a bad guy or a bad sport taking down a beloved childrens' character. And by the way, I know enough about baseball to know who he was.

But he never sued and I'm pretty sure that lawyers advised Joe Barbera to never admit that anything like that wasn't just coincidence. There were lots of similar celebrity references in H-B shows…and of course, a few shows (and voices) were pretty damned close to other famous shows or other famous folks. Lawyers often tell you to deny, deny, deny, no matter what.

At some point, I believe it was reported that Mr. Berra said something like "I was going to sue but then I realized my first name wasn't Yogi, it was Lawrence!" And at some point, I believe it was reported that Mr. Barbera said something like "He was going to sue us but then he realized that his first name wasn't Yogi, it was Lawrence!" It wouldn't surprise me if one or both of those quotes was true…but there was never any lawsuit.

And you reminded me of the last TV show I ever worked on for Hanna-Barbera, which was one of those experiences that had me quoting the great Moss Hart, who once said, "In my life, I have had many successes and many failures. The successes were for all different reasons but the failures were all for the same reason — I said yes when I meant no."

I said yes when I was asked to write and story-edit a series called Yogi's Treasure Hunt, the premise of which would be that Yogi and all his friends (Snagglepuss, Huckleberry Hound, Augie Doggie, Hokey Wolf, Snooper and Blabber, etc.) would be dashing about the planet in each episode, trying to beat certain evildoers to locate and claim some exotic, valuable treasure. I said yes because I had (and still have) a great affection for the early H-B characters voiced by Daws Butler, and Daws — a man I dearly loved — would be doing all those voices for the series.

I should have said no because I didn't like the premise of the show and the money offered for my services was very, very low. I used to pride myself in not turning down something that looked like fun and/or a chance to do something good just because the money was low. Eventually though, I learned that if what they'll pay for the writing is bad, so is what they'll spend on the other elements of the show. Which can easily make the project not very much fun and not very good.

But I said yes, struggled through a couple of scripts and then butted heads with Mr. Barbera — I never could bring myself to address him as "Joe" — over the whole project. I wrote a script he thought was all wrong for the series he had in mind. It was about a rush to find that episode's great treasure…a magical jewel which causes the bearer to be able to sing and mesmerize the masses so he or she can fill stadiums with devout hypnotized fans. The first of many things he didn't like about it was that I named the magical jewel "The Neil Diamond."

Mr. B (that, I could call him) said, "I don't like puns on celebrity names" and I instantly replied, "You mean like Yogi Bear?" He gave me one of those "You bastard" grins and we had a nice heart-to-heart/man-to-man/boss-to-employee conversation which led indirectly to me deciding to leave the show and the studio a day or two later. I don't think anything I wrote for Yogi's Treasure Hunt ever made it to air.

But I departed on good terms and Mr. B was very nice to me whenever I saw him after that, including offering me several projects that, if I hadn't had better alternatives, might have lured me back. When I reflect on my decision to put Hanna-Barbera behind me, I find myself thinking of another quote I like, this one from a lyric by Hal David. It's the one that goes, "Knowing when to leave may be the smartest thing that anyone can learn." I also think of that lyric any time someone mentions Neil Diamond.

This is a 44-minute clip and I think I laughed for at least 38 of them…Albert Brooks guesting on various episodes of David Letterman's show. I was privileged to see Mr. Brooks back when he was doing stand-up and there was nobody funnier. He was unique among comics and talk show guests at taking his own sweet time laying down the foundation of a bit, slowly working his way to a punch line. As in these segments, it was almost always worth the wait.

I especially like the interplay between Dave and Albert. Dave always understands the premise of the particular bit Albert is setting up but isn't always certain how to play Straight Man for the bit and help set it up — and the two of them are clearly enjoying the struggle to stay on the same wavelength…