Last October when Amber and I were in New York, one of the shows we saw was Prince of Broadway, a paste-up presentation of show-stopping numbers from shows that were produced and/or directed by Harold Prince. I wrote about it here and about my reaction, which was that I liked it but did not love it. Several of the numbers were quite wonderful but the show didn't quite come together as anything more than a nice sampler.

The show closed in New York at the end of that month and I said in the above-linked piece that I wished there had been a cast album because I'd like to hear some of those performances again. Well, it turns out that a cast album (a CD, actually) was recorded and it will be out next month.

And I found this video not of the New York production but of the earlier Japanese company. It's in English with many of the same actors I saw in New York. One of them is Bryonha Marie Parham, who tore the roof off the dump (as they say) performing the title song from Cabaret. You'll hear a few seconds of her in this video and get an idea what the show was like…

I'll bet I'm not the only person in Los Angeles who needs to seriously readjust his or her sense of how long it takes to get from here to there. Traffic has been awful lately and there seems to be a commission somewhere that figures out which streets I have to drive on and puts them permanently "Under Construction." I think it's staffed by the same people Chris Christie used to use for his bridge closures.

Not all that long ago, it took me fifteen minutes to drive from my house up to the Magic Castle in Hollywood. Lately, it's 25-30 and if the trend keeps up, I'll soon have to leave for Friday Lunch some time mid-Thursday evening.

I hate being late for things. Even when I can get there just barely when I'm supposed to be there, I hate that urgent feeling of "Will I make it on time? Will I make it on time?" Needless to say, I also hate it when someone else is late and keeps me waiting. That's why I hate being late: I don't like doing to someone else what I don't want them doing to me.

I don't claim to be infallible at arriving somewhere on schedule but I got better at it many years ago when I worked with the great TV host and producer Dick Clark. Dick, some said, was infallible when it came to being on time, which I guess is a skill you develop when you do a lot of live television and radio broadcasts. He also had to be in place every New Year's Eve in Times Square to cover the ball drop for Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve or whatever they called those specials.

One year, I was asked to write on one of those shows and it would have also meant accompanying Dick to New York for the live portion. I wrote about it here some years ago…

It meant working on the music segments that were all pre-taped in October — when the acts were available and not charging what they charge to perform on New Year's Eve — with the hosts saying, "And now, let's cut to Dick Clark in Times Square and see what's happening there. Dick, what's the mood like in New York tonight?" And while this was being taped in L.A., Dick was just off-camera. Then 12/31, Dick and I would fly to New York at the last possible minute, do the live remote from the rooftop, then fly back almost immediately.

I remember being amazed at how close he cut it, given that he had to be on the air live at a specific time…and it was not a time when travel in and out of the Times Square area was likely to be a breeze. If I absolutely had to be on a rooftop there at the moment the new year commenced, I think I'd have had them do the telecast from a hotel there, flown to New York a few days before, checked into that hotel and not left it…then flown home a few days later.

Dick's itinerary that year called for getting to his N.Y. hotel (a few blocks from where the chosen rooftop was located) around 4 PM on the last day of the year, making his way to the building somewhat later, then getting back to his hotel after the broadcast and flying home first thing the morning of January 1. I think it was like an 8 AM flight. Thinking back, it now sounds like it might have been a fun adventure but when it was offered, I somehow didn't imagine it that way.

I turned that down but worked with Dick on other things and did notice he was on time for every meeting, every taping, every everything…but I didn't gain any insight into how he managed that. Then one year, I was writing a special for ABC and Dick was booked to be its host. The producer-director was Bob Bowker, a gent who was skilled and experienced in both capacities. Bob had worked with Dick before too and he said to me a week before we taped, "The secret is not wasting his time. If we have our act together, he'll be the most cooperative performer you've ever worked with."

We worked out the schedule and then a few days before our tape date, we went over to the studio where Dick was taping American Bandstand. On a break, he took us into his dressing room and this is how the entire meeting went…

He said he was looking forward to doing the show with us. He'd worked with both of us so he said, "Just tell me when you need me on the set." We told him Noon. Dick then said — and this is a very rough reconstruction of it…

"Okay, I'll dress at home so I'll only need makeup and hair when I arrive. That's ten minutes. From where I park on that lot, it's about a five minute walk to the studio you're using so I need to arrive at 11:45. It's 40 minutes from my house so I'll leave Malibu at 11:05. Any particular way you need me dressed?"

I said, "A pink satin wedding gown with a hoop skirt and lavender brocade." Bob said, "What you're wearing now will be fine in any color." Dick said, "Fine. Just have everything on cards and I'll see you Wednesday at Noon."

We shook hands and headed for the door as he turned and began talking to the stage manager about the next thing they'd be taping for Bandstand. Our entire meeting lasted less than 180 seconds.

So right there was one lesson from the Dick Clark School of Never Being Late: Don't Waste Time. With someone else, that could have been a thirty-minute meeting. Hell, I've had two-hour meetings that accomplished less.

Wednesday morning, Bob and I — but mostly Bob — had everything arranged, including a thorough proofreading of the cue cards. Dick arrived in the Makeup Room at 11:44 and he walked onto our stage one minute before Noon. Bob showed him where to stand and which camera to face. I read the cue cards aloud to him as he read them to himself. At 12:03, we rolled tape. The opening ran about two minutes and though we were satisfied with Dick's read of it, he said, "I can do that better."

He read it again. He was satisfied with this one and so were we. Bob (who was directing from the booth) said, "That's fine. Moving on." It was 12:09 and the opening of the show was done and in the can. The rest of the taping went much the same way — or would have but for one guest star who was an hour late.

We had sent a limo for the guy, which is something a lot of shows do. It makes the guest feel very important and pampered but that's not why they do it. They do it because it helps get the person there on time. Only twice have I ever known it to backfire. Once, the guest refused to get into the limo because it wasn't fancy enough. There was a delay of around forty minutes while the limo company dispatched a fancier model.

The other time was on this special with Dick. The limo picked up the guest on-time but en route to the studio, the guest told the driver, "I need to get some new shoes to wear for this. Stop off on Rodeo Drive." The driver did so, the guest hopped out and disappeared into Gucci's. Twenty minutes later when he hadn't returned, the driver went in, couldn't find him and phoned us at the studio. This was before cell phones so there was nothing that could be done until the guest came back to the limo.  He got in empty-handed and said, "I couldn't find anything I liked so I'll just wear what I have on."

At the studio, we rearranged the taping sequence and did everything we could that didn't require the guest star but then there was nothing to do but await his arrival. Dick, who'd produced hundreds of TV shows and therefore had hundreds of guests arrive late or not at all, absolutely understood. He was pissed but not at us, especially since we clearly had arranged things properly — and again, that was mostly Bob's doing.

Killing the time, Dick and I got to talking about Not Being Late and he said something that I vividly recall, though for some reason I can't always remember it when I should.  He said, "You have to be very, very realistic about how long things take.  And you have to remember that unexpected things will always happen and you have to be real resourceful about working around them when they do."

Simple advice — and I'm usually pretty good at coming up with a Plan B when one is possible.  Sometimes, there isn't one.

But that first part about being realistic about how long things take…that's one that sometimes eludes me. I keep thinking it takes fifteen minutes to get to the Magic Castle even though the last half-dozen times, it's been more like double that. Fifteen is no longer realistic. I once had a lady friend who kept saying, "I can get completely packed in half an hour" but every time we traveled, it took in excess of ninety minutes. Not being realistic.

Traffic in Los Angeles has gotten worse and worse lately. A lot of it's street construction. Part of it is because at any given time, half the population is out, driving around for Lyft and/or Uber, waiting for the call to go drive around the other half. My G.P.S. is pretty good at recalibrating and adjusting for the congestion. I wish I could take that feature out of the G.P.S. and install it in my own head, as well as the heads of anyone who's supposed to meet me for lunch.

Some cartoonist I never heard of reflects on the history of Comic-Con. I think Sergio's first one was the third one, which was the first one held at the old El Cortez Hotel. The El Cortez is still there but it's now condominiums, as everything in the world will eventually be…

It's getting late and I'm weary of the eternal birthday question: "So what's it feel like to be [YOUR AGE]?" In my case, it's officially 66 today and no one's buying what feels to me like the right answer. In terms of physical conditions — knees that hurt, hands that occasionally ache, etc. — it's okay. It's not great but it's okay. In terms of mental spirit and attitude, I have no idea how it feels to be 66 because I'm convinced I'm 24. Since I was 24, I've always felt like I was 24.

24 was the age when I moved out of my parents' house, got my own apartment and began to feel like I had total control of my own life. My parents were as good as any kid could ever hope for…but I kind of had to eat when they wanted to eat and I kind of had to sleep when they wanted to sleep and I couldn't have a girl over. Once I had my own place, I could configure everything around me to my own needs. My second or third night in that apartment, I stayed up writing 'til dawn and went to sleep around 7 AM. Just because I could.

It was around then that I stopped thinking a whole lot about age. I'm going to work on staying that way.

I have a friend who is a comic actor in his eighties. Many of you would know his name but I'm not going to mention it. Since he hit the big eight-oh, he's become obsessed with his age. I don't think he's aware of it but all his friends have noticed how he can't utter three sentences without one of them containing some phrase like "Not bad for an old guy" or "In the years I have left…" or my least favorite, "You won't have me around much longer…" It's easy to tell what's constantly on his mind and I think it's making him older.

This morning, I was saying some of this to a friend who called to wish me H.B. and to ask how it feels to be 66. When I told him what I just told you about being 24, he said, "That could be dangerous. You don't want to forget you're 66 and go hang-gliding or para-sailing." I said, "There's nothing to fear. I didn't go hang-gliding or para-sailing when I was 24."

He said, "What did you do?" I said, "I sat around and wrote comic book scripts all day."

He said, "And what are you going to do today?" I said, "I'm going to sit around and write comic book scripts all day."

He thought about if for a second and said, "Okay…that might work for you."

Thanks for all the nice wishes today in my e-mail, on Twitter, on Facebook and I even got a couple of actual cards. Yes, they still make them. I started to answer a few, intending to at least acknowledge the gesture and say howdy but then I realized how many of them there were. Even just writing "Thanks" would take me until the wishes for next year started rolling in and I began getting calls from all the people who called today to ask me how it felt to be 66, calling to ask how it felt to be 67. But I do appreciate the thoughts.

Many folks have told me how much they loved the video of the show Dick Van Dyke and Company did Tuesday night at the Catalina Bar and Grill in Hollywood. I embedded it in this posting here. Some of you have informed me that it won't play in your browsers. If so, see if you can't watch it on this Facebook page.

And Steve Brumbaugh informs me that there are Sweet Tomatoes restaurants in Oregon. Good for Oregon!

This will interest a lot of you. It's an incomplete short subject from 1950 called "Famous Cartoonists." It shows a lot of famous cartoonists — a few of whom still are famous — at some sort of National Cartoonists Society gathering. You get to see a few of them drawing and most of them sitting around eating, smoking or gabbing. Still, it's kind of fun to see these guys and I wish we had the whole short…

You'd think that if we all learned nothing else from the Internet, we'd get that there's a pretty wide range of opinions out there about…well, anything. No matter what book, movie, TV show, play, pizza or other work of art out there you thought was stupendous, there's someone out there who thinks it was incontrovertible dreck…and usually, there are several someones who feel that way. That matters because if you can point to even one other person who shares your opinion on something, you can argue that most of the other people on the planet do, too.

I'm getting so tired of people who want to argue that their opinions are inarguable. They might just as well come right out and say, "You're not entitled to your opinion because it doesn't match mine." I used to make the mistake of questioning such folks just because they insisted their positions were unquestionable. I slip now and then but for the most part, my attitude now is that I'm fine with someone liking something I don't like. Often, I'd like to hear more about what they liked about it because I'm curious about what, if anything, I'm missing.

What I'm really getting tired of are comments of the "it's crap" variety. I keep remembering a conversation I had once with a writer friend about a new comic book. I didn't particularly care for it but this guy was angry that it had been published and very, very bothered that I didn't share his outrage. The discussion went something like this…

HIM: But it's crap. Pure, unadulterated crap.

ME: What didn't you like about it?

HIM: I didn't like that it was crap. I don't like crap. You don't like crap, do you?

ME: Not as a rule but it doesn't usually affect me. I have developed this odd ability to not read it from now on. Why are you so upset about this one book?

HIM: Because I read it and believe me, I know crap when I see it. I think I was three pages into it when my Crap Alarm went off and I said to myself, "Hey, I think this could be crap" and four or five pages later, I knew. Yep, crap. You read it! Didn't you see it was crap from the start?

ME: I wasn't wild about it but you're still not telling me what it was about the work that you didn't like…

HIM: I didn't like that it was crap. I hate crap. Look, if a dog takes a shit on your lawn, you don't need to get a forensic scientist out to analyze the specimen. You know it's shit. Well, the same way, I know if something's crap.

And it went on from there but didn't get any deeper. He wouldn't or maybe couldn't say why he didn't like it. If I had to guess, I'd guess it was because it was fairly successful and he hadn't written it. But in truth, he doesn't need an intelligible reason to not like something. "I don't like the taste of it" is a perfectly valid reason for not eating tofu. He just needs a reason for not liking a creative work if he wants to discuss it with me because more and more, I'm absenting myself from that kind of exchange.

As I get older — I hit double-sixes tomorrow — I'm getting increasingly less tolerant of gratuitous negativity — especially of the overemotional variety, especially about things that don't really matter. Last week, a friend called in sky-high dudgeon to tell me how much he hates the way another friend of ours has been flooding Facebook with self-promotion. If I listed all the wrongs of the world, that would not make my top billion.

If you want to talk to me about something important — something that genuinely impacts lives (especially mine) or something we can and should do something about — fine. If it's anything we both care about, let's discuss it. But it isn't necessary to have an opinion about absolutely everything in the world and it sure isn't necessary to tell me every one of those opinions, especially the angry, negative ones. You have every right to have those views and to express them but I have every right to not listen to you.

A discussion is one thing. I love discussing things, exchanging insights and perspectives on most topics, especially when there isn't a discusser involved who has his or her ego all wrapped up in "winning" in some awkwardly-defined way. I'm just getting increasingly weary of rants, especially hysterical rants where the emotion is way out of proportion to the alleged crime. I'll listen if something constructive might come out of it and, hey, I'll probably listen if it's funny. If it's neither of those things, please do it where I can avoid it. Thanks.

…or maybe a day or two after tomorrow in some Souplantations or Sweet Tomatoes restaurants, they'll have this…

It's their Classic Creamy Tomato Soup, my oft-mentioned-on-this-blog favorite soup, which they only have one month a year — appropriately enough, my birthday month. Some time ago, I used this blog to campaign for them to offer it more often…like, 365 days a year, if possible. This campaign failed but it did cause the Souplantation people to send me a lot of coupons for free meals at their establishments and nothing makes a great soup better than not having to pay for it.

I even spoke to someone high up in the company a few years ago and he told me, approximately, "Yes, many have clamored for us to have that soup on a regular basis but we're very happy with the rotation plan we currently have." In other words, "It ain't broke so we ain't gonna fix it." This was a year or so before Garden Fresh Restaurant Corporation, which owns the Souplantation chain and its twin, the Sweet Tomatoes chain, filed for bankruptcy, began closing locations and offering itself up for sale.

They could have prevented all that if they'd just listened to me but no. Instead, they were purchased by another company and they brought in a new CEO but they still only offer their best soup one month a year.

It's on their March menu which goes into effect over the next few days. If you're in one of the nine states that have Souplantation or Sweet Tomatoes outlets — California, Washington, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Texas, Georgia or Florida — check one out this month. And as you leave the restaurant, make sure to tell them you'll be back when the Classic Creamy Tomato Soup is back. And not before. Maybe, eventually, they'll get the message,

A too-brief but worth-your-time oral history of the TV show M*A*S*H. Every so often, I catch a rerun of that series and think, "I have the complete run on DVD. I should start watching those, one or two a night." And check this page out, too.

This evening, a group of my friends and I — and a surprising number of folks who told me they bought tickets after reading the announcement on this blog — packed the Catalina Bar and Grill up on Sunset for a performance by Dick Van Dyke. Boy, did we have a good time. At the age of 92 years, 2 months and 14 days, Dick is still a great entertainer. No, he can't dance like he used to but he can still light up a stage just with his smile and style. Just try to think of a more beloved star. I'll wait.

Can't name one, can you?

Dick didn't do it alone on the Catalina stage, of course. His wonderful wife Arlene came up to sing a little…and to surprise Dick by noting that tomorrow — i.e., today by the time I post this — is their sixth wedding anniversary. Also up there at times was Dick's singing group, The Vantastix, and a great band…and we all had a rousing good time.

Here's a video of the last 50 minutes of the show so you can see why we all had that rousing good time. Depending on your browser, you may have to click off a little "X" next to the audio icon to hear the audio.

If you don't have time to watch the whole thing, move the slider over and start at the 44 minute mark and watch my favorite part of the evening.  We all got to sing with Dick Van Dyke on the song you'd most want to sing with Dick Van Dyke.  Gee, we love that man…

I haven't mentioned it in a while but I still get one or two calls a day from folks who are either contractors or are working for some service that gets a cut if they can drum up any business for clients who are contractors.  A few of them are nice, asking me if I need any work done on my house and if they can send out someone to give me a free estimate. 

I don't need any work done and if I did, I have a contractor and other home improvement people who've done repairs for me in the past and done them well and at reasonable prices.  I will probably never buy anything from a stranger who cold-calls me as these folks do.

They're all annoying but the ones who especially irritate me are the ones reading from a script that goes roughly like this…

Hi, Mr. Evanier. This is Bruce of Phlegm Home Improvement calling back. I spoke to you last August and you were very nice to me and you said to call you back in [name of current month] because you'd be ready to do some improvements on your home. We have a team out on [name of my street] this week and I'd like to set up an appointment for them to come by and discuss the work to be done with you.

My reply? I interrupt them and say, "You did not talk to me last August and I did not tell you to call back now." Sometimes, they hang up right there.

Sometimes, they argue a bit — "Oh, yes you did. I distinctly recall it." — until they realize they're wasting their time with me and they hang up. Yesterday morning, one called and went through most of the above script before I cut them off…

ME: You did not talk to me last August and I did not tell you to call back now.

HIM: You're right. But listen, I represent a good contracting firm. If you have any work you need done, we'd like to come out and bid on the job.

ME: Why would I want to do business with someone who calls me and the first thing out of their mouth is a deliberate, pre-meditated lie?

HIM: Hey, lying's acceptable now. Look who's in the White House.

For a moment there, I was almost willing to let the guy paint my house.

Okay: So on his show last June, John Oliver does a segment about the coal industry and in the process, he says some very, very negative things about Bob Murray, the CEO of a coal mining firm that bears his name. Oliver even has a six-foot squirrel named Mr. Nutterbutter come out to join in the festivities.

Now, Mr. Murray is not unfamiliar with the concept of someone going on television and saying bad things about others. He's routinely gone on TV and said bad things about Barack Obama, including the suggestion that Obama should be thrown in prison for his deliberate attempts to destroy the lives of workers in the energy industry.

But I guess in Mr. Murray's mind, there's a difference between defaming the President of the United States and defaming the CEO of Murray Energy. Feeling understandably attacked by Oliver, Murray calls in what I'm guessing are rather high-priced lawyers and he tells them to sue the alleged defamer.

Now, I'm fuzzy on this next part. Do those high-priced lawyers tell Murray he's wasting his time and money and that he can't possibly prevail in his lawsuit? Do any of them say, "The same laws that permit you to tell President Obama to eat shit permit John Oliver to tell you to eat shit"?

Maybe they don't dissuade him because they want the huge fees he will be paying. Or maybe they do caution him but Murray says, "I don't care. I want to do it anyway and cause that rat bastard some money and anguish," in which case I wonder if any of the attorneys told him, "You know, the cost of fighting this suit will not come out of Mr. Oliver's pocket. HBO and perhaps some insurance firm will be paying."

And I wonder if anyone told him that by suing, he'd cause a lot of people to rally to Oliver's side and a lot of people who never saw the supposedly-defamatory segment to seek it out and view it, plus he's pretty much invited Oliver to take future shots at him. Murray — a big Trump supporter and donor — has been bragging about how much influence he has had on the current administration's rollback of environmental protections and complaining he hasn't had more. When Oliver feels free to do another segment on Bob Murray, I suspect he and Mr. Nutterbutter will have plenty to work with.

Baby lambs. Just baby lambs…

• Donald Trump says that if he'd been at Parkland when the shooting started, he'd have run in to save the kids even if he was unarmed. This is the man who's afraid to be interviewed by a reporter not on the Fox News payroll.

This year, people will be watching the Academy Awards not to find out what won for Best Picture but just to see if the presenters can open the right envelope and announce the right winner. What went wrong last year when the wrong winner was announced? Well, the Hollywood Reporter has done a more thorough inquiry than Congress wants to do about how Donald Trump wound up being declared the President of the United States. Here's an oral history of that never-to-be-forgotten moment.