Jonathan Zimmerman on the "War on Christmas." Says he, it's all about the money.

Y'know, I can remember when the big debate over that holiday was about its over-commercialization. My friend/idol Stan Freberg produced a record called "Green Christmas" all about how advertising agencies were exploiting the hell out of a day which was supposed to mean more than a sponsor's chance to sell more tires. Now, the big complaint from those who profess to hold Christmas dear to their hearts is that it's not commercialized enough.

A recent tweet of mine is probably what prompted Will Partridge to send the following…

I've seen several references to how much you hate cole slaw. I wondered if you wrote a kid's comic book I read when I was about seven years old that always stuck with me. I think it was a Hanna-Barbera book. The characters were a trio of bears. One of them really hated cole slaw and kept encountering it everywhere he went. At one point he goes to a bubble gum machine, puts in a coin, and gets a cup of cole slaw. It's the final straw and he goes into a rage which fuels the climax of the story. Can't remember anything else about the plot, but the cole slaw gag struck me as really funny. Was that one of yours?

You are remembering a story of some characters called the C.B. Bears, who then had a cartoon show on Saturday morning. The comic book was Hanna-Barbera TV Stars #2 (October, 1978). The story was "The Great Cole Slaw Conspiracy," written by me and drawn by Jack Manning. The editor of the comic wholeheartedly agreed with me on the evils of cole slaw and the necessity of educating children to avoid it at all costs. (The editor was, obviously, wise and socially responsible and me.)

So you see, this cole slaw thing is not a new crusade of mine. I've been planting propaganda about it for some time now.

I'm amazed at the number of folks who feel threatened or insulted that I don't like cole slaw. Come on, folks. It's not like I might someday have the power to ban it and deprive you of something you love. It's also not like there aren't some foods you think are repulsive. When I gave the script for this comic book story to Jack Manning, he read it over and said to me, "Hey, I like cole slaw. Could we make it cottage cheese instead?" Since I outranked him, it stayed cole slaw.

Years later, writing the Garfield cartoon show, I tried to do an episode on much the same premise. Jim Davis read over an outline I wrote, called up and said, "Hey, that's a funny idea but I love cole slaw. Could we make it raisins instead?" Since he outranked me, I never wrote the episode and I stopped writing outlines.

A year or two ago at Comic-Con, some reader of this blog cornered me and began arguing the case for cole slaw as if its greatness was a factual matter and he could talk me into loving the stuff. I told him, "Hey, I happen to prefer potato salad," and he reacted like I'd said, "I'd rather eat raw dead puppies," and he began making vomiting sounds and saying all the things about potato salad that I say about cole slaw.

Let me tell you my real problem with cole slaw. It isn't just that I don't like it. It isn't even that I'm allergic to cabbage and other, less frequent components of cole slaw.

It's that restaurants give it to you without warning you it comes on the plate — or in some horrid cases, on the sandwich. It's that in some places, it's so damn unavoidable. One of my favorite restaurants in Downtown L.A. is a very old diner called The Original Pantry. When you sit down at your table, the bus boy comes by and automatically brings you a place setting, a glass of water and a rather large dish of cole slaw. I can kinda tolerate it there because it's in its own dish and they serve it to you before you've even ordered. So you can have them take it away and there's no chance of cross-contamination with actual food. Other places, it's more of an unwanted intrusion.

That's why it wouldn't have been funny to have the C.B. Bears story be about cottage cheese or for the Garfield one to be about raisins. Very rarely do people force cottage cheese or raisins on you. There is no noticeable conspiracy to push those foods on people.  When was the last time you ordered a hamburger and it came with either of those two things on it?

I finally learned how to (usually) prevent cole slaw from occurring but before I did, I don't know how many times I'd politely ask them to hold the slaw and when my plate came, there it would be: A heaping mound of cole slaw with its dressing oozing into all the items there I wanted to eat.

I'd say, "I asked for no cole slaw" and as often as not, the server would say, "Oh, they didn't charge you for it. Just don't eat it." Half the time, they'd deny I ever said it…and believe me, I always said it. If I made them correct the error, they'd do one of two things, neither of them satisfactory. One is that they'd take the plate away, scrape off 90% of the cole slaw and about half of the watery dressing which was bleeding into my fries, and bring the dish back to me. The other is that they'd completely remake the plate but that usually took forever. They'd make me wait and suffer as punishment for not wanting their friggin' cole slaw on or around my dinner.

So what I've learned to do when ordering is to make a big joke out of it. I say, "I would like no cole slaw on my plate. In fact, I would like no cole slaw on anyone's plate, today or at any time. Have the chef throw out all the cole slaw in the kitchen, have the manager take cole slaw off the menu and if this is a chain, call the home office and tell them to never serve cole slaw ever again in any of their restaurants. Thank you."

This accomplishes two things. One is that it always makes the server laugh, and that's a nice thing. Secondly, after that they wouldn't dare bring me a plate with cole slaw on it. It makes them remember. They can't say, "Oh, I didn't hear you." And if the chef out of habit scoops slaw onto my plate, they usually catch it and have it corrected before the meal ever gets near me.

The only venues where I have the problem now are the ones where one person takes your order and a different person brings the orders to your table when they're ready. Even in those situations, when I flag down the order-taker and point at the offending slaw on my plate, they shriek, "I told that chef no cole slaw!" and they move like gangbusters to correct the affront. They can't deny I didn't want it. Once in a while, I've even had the server quickly replace the entire order sans you-know-what, then offer me a free dessert in apology. I don't eat desserts so I just thank them, tell them I know it wasn't their fault and add, "I'm so impressed with your anti-slaw diligence, I may even tip."

Please, please…don't write and tell me how you know a place that serves great cole slaw. That's an oxymoron around these parts and I get real sick if I eat cabbage anyway. I promise I will never interfere with your constitutional right to eat cole slaw (it's one of the few we haven't scaled back since 9/11). Don't interfere with my constitutional right to say that it's evil and that anyone who makes it should be put to death. Or worse, forced to eat the stuff.

As we've discussed here before, comic actor Barry Humphries is retiring…well, I'm not clear on whether he's retiring from show business or he's just retiring his famous 'n' infamous Dame Edna character. Either way though, the Grande Dame is on her farewell tour which, alas, does not seem likely to include the United States. We'll have to settle for clips from TV shows where he/she is appearing to promote it. Here we see Dame Edna on Loose Women, a British programme not unlike The View in this country…

Go see the incredible work of Michael Paul Smith. Just go see it.

• G.O.P. eyeing new government shutdown…because that always works so well for them.

Merrill Markoe dreads the upcoming day when we'll all be allowed to use our cellphones on airplanes. The texting won't bother me but I expect the talking will.

And while we're on the subject: My pal Ken Levine has thoughts about how some airlines (which means before long, all airlines) have stopped requiring us to power-down our electronic devices during take-offs and landings. I don't know what that means to you but I know what it means to me: Uninterrupted Sudoku.

So last night, I was at the Beyoncé Concert down at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. Don't act so shocked. There were a lot of people there. The place holds 18,000 and it was packed to capacity. I can testify to that: All 18,000 people were ahead of me in the parking lanes trying to leave…and they all came in individual cars. I thought by the time I got off the property, the Sparks would have clinched the 2014 season.

Not only were there 18,000 people there but I'd be very surprised if fewer than around 17,900 of them didn't have the time of their lives — a remarkable achievement given what the tickets cost. I was in a real good seat with a face value of $260 on it…but a lot of those get snatched up by scalper-type resellers. I just looked at one of those sites and as of yesterday afternoon, asking price in my section was over $1000. That's for one ticket.

Now, obviously, some tickets don't sell at that price but if there are folks out there asking a grand, you've got to figure a lot of tix are getting snatched up for $500 or $600. For those amounts — even for $260 which, by the way, I didn't pay — you've gotta be one hell of an entertainer. Beyoncé is sure good at pleasing Beyoncé fans. One of the most enjoyable things about the evening was being among so many people who were so deliriously happy. (I was not among the theoretical 100 who might not have loved every minute of it. Honestly, I didn't see anyone who wasn't thrilled to be there. I'm just assuming that in a crowd of that size, there must have been someone.)

How I came to attend a Beyoncé Concert is a long, boring tale that I'll spare you. Just know that it wasn't my idea…but then a lot of things I wind up enjoying aren't my idea.

For some inexplicable reason, the ticket said the show started at 8 PM. It didn't. Depending on your definition, it either started some time before 7:45 PM or it started at 9:12.

At 7:45 when we made our way to our seats, a singer named Luke James was on stage performing to a hall of people making their ways to their seats or standing room locations. I felt a bit sorry for Mr. James up there. He's obviously a man of great talent and while about a third of the audience loved the hell out of what he was doing up there, most audiences have minimal interest these days in opening acts. Doesn't matter who they are or what they do. If it had been the other way around — if Beyoncé had been opening for him — people would have been ignoring her and eagerly discussing what Luke James might be singing — or, more importantly, wearing.

Anyway, Mr. James called to mind the description of Spinal Tap as "one of England's loudest bands." If your window was open last night and you reside in the Pacific or Mountain time zones, perhaps you heard him.

For a brief moment there, I was worried I was in for a rather painful evening. He was so loud and the seats, though pricey, were designed on the assumption that everyone who came to see a Lakers game in this building would be about the height and width of Billy Crystal. Narrow seats…no leg room…and just to make sure anyone over about 5'8" was uncomfortable, they welded large plastic cup holders to the back of the seats ahead of me, precisely where my kneecaps could otherwise have been. Fortunately, the decibels were a bit more tolerable for Beyoncé…and the official, arena-wide position to watch her section of the evening turned out to be standing. And screaming.

James left the stage around 8:20 and we then had nearly an hour of…waiting, I guess you'd call it but in a way, it was part of the show. They ran commercials and videos on the big screens…and every time Beyoncé popped up in one, everyone in the building who wasn't me would scream as loud as they could. Behind me there was a girl who was maybe fifteen who screamed and screamed and screamed and who's probably going to sound like Harvey Fierstein for the rest of her life. Looked a little like him, too. I had the feeling her mother had said to her, "Okay — you can go to the Beyoncé Concert but don't let me catch you coming home with any voice left!" People also screamed any time there was any evidence of the show being set up…like when we saw technicians climbing up long rope ladders to the rafters or when a huge curtain with the Beyoncé insignia was unfurled.

I kept thinking: These people are having a great time just Waiting for Beyoncé. They could leave now and feel they got their money's worth. Folks were up and dancing to the recorded music that was being played — mostly but not exclusively Beyoncé — and cheering and singing. I enjoyed it though I felt I was in a kind of sound cocoon. From the moment we entered the Staples Center to the moment we left, I literally could not make out one word being said to me by anyone who was not on the stage. (And not even all of them. I read today that she dedicated a couple of songs to Paul Walker. I'm sure she did but I was right there straining to make out what she said and I missed it.)

But I'm getting ahead of myself. At 9:11, lights dimmed and everyone cheered and shrieked as loudly as humanly possible. Then a minute later, the Beyoncé part of the evening commenced and they somehow got louder. Videos played. Lights strobed. Her dancers danced. And when it looked like she was about to make her entrance, 18,000 cameraphones were whipped out and trained on that stage. At first, it was only 17,999 but I realized it was expected so I pulled mine out. Because I hit the wrong button, I got a nice selfie of my eye.

And then…she performed: Beyoncé and her back-up dancers and her all-female band. If you grade a performer on how well he or she pleases the people who paid admission, you have to give her an A-triple-plus. I couldn't see if they were up and dancing and rocking in the cheaper seats — nor could I imagine how the people in them could see much of anything — but where we were, audience members were in ecstasy. And me? I liked it a lot. I was distracted by the noise and by the need to stand in order to see anything — my right knee is still healing from surgery and now my left knee's making sounds like it'll be needing it — and right in the middle of it all, I received a text message with some sad news about a long-ago acquaintance. But I still loved being there.

Here's a brief video someone in the audience shot from stage left. If this person had moved their camera up about two inches, you could have seen where we were sitting stage right. And you could have spotted me because I was the only one there not dancing. (It's not that I wasn't moved by the music. It's just that, you know, I figure I look dumb enough not dancing…)

No, it's not a show for everyone…and no, I was not the oldest person there. Not even close. But the crowd got exactly what it expected and what it wanted…and boy, the show was well-produced with ultra-rehearsed choreography, expertly-timed special effects…and somewhere in there, she even sang about sixteen bars of the theme song from The Jeffersons.

What I'm writing here will shock one friend of mine. When I mentioned on Facebook and Twitter that I was at a Beyoncé Concert, he e-mailed me to say, "Can't wait to read how you tear it apart." Sorry, Roger. I'll knock the chairs and the amplification and if I'd paid the admission fee, I might have more to say about that. But Beyoncé has not become the kind of superstar who can pack the Staples Center at those prices by being a hyped-up fraud. She's the real deal. It takes talent to make that many people that happy.

Me and 17,999 Beyoncé fans at the Staples Center: A full report later today or whenever I finish it. Right now, I have to go direct a cartoon voice recording. This may be difficult unless my hearing returns in the next few hours.

Groucho Marx's passport from 1939.  It's kind of unusual.  In order to pass through customs with it, you have to be able to sing a song and convince them you're Maurice Chevalier…

• That's right: I'm at the Beyoncé concert at the Staples Center. Where else?

• My friends could guess for six months and they'd never guess where I am right now.

You may know Jack Sheldon from his jazz records and concerts. You may know him from his TV work on The Merv Griffin Show or Dragnet or a great, forgotten series called Run, Buddy, Run. You may even know him from his voiceover work in commercials and on things like Schoolhouse Rock. He's a great musician and a very funny guy.

In June of 2011, the Internet was full of reports that he'd died — reports that we were happy to help debunk. What was true though was that he'd had a stroke and he didn't perform for some time. We are happy again to hear that the other night at the Catalina Jazz Club in Hollywood, Jack Sheldon's big band performed…with Jack playing the trumpet. Because of the stroke, he's had to learn to play it left-handed…but learn he did and I'm hearing he sounded as good as ever. Wish I'd been there to help celebrate his return…and also his 82nd birthday.

Here's an interview my pal Leonard Maltin did with Jack before his illness about a recent documentary on his work. He also discusses being on Dragnet and reading the TelePrompter, as we discussed before here. Oh — and the thing Merv Griffin mentions — about Jack playing like a street musician down at the Music Center and accepting tips — I actually saw that. I'd see him playing down there and I'd throw a few bucks in his container. And all these people like me who recognized him would wonder why Jack Sheldon — the guy on The Merv Griffin Show — was playing there for tips. I think I once even offered to tip him a fiver for a chorus of "I'm Just a Bill…"

Just had an unpleasant time on phone with a man on the Support Desk for my primary virus checker. I have a few of these programs and one, which ran overnight, told me I had a no-no on my system. The program is supposed to automatically repair or delete such things but in this case would do neither. I ran a couple of other virus scanners and they didn't notice anything wrong. Then I rebooted and ran the primary one again and the infections were still there, it said.

I decided to call Support for the primary checker, the one that had found two instances of one infection. The wait time was 19 minutes and when a human finally came on the line, he was obviously not on the same continent as I, nor was English the language he knew best. I could have settled for not knowing English well if he'd known his own product well but 'twas not the case, either. I asked why his program could locate this virus but not remove it. He explained the program was a scanner that was designed to prevent viruses from getting onto my computer, not a program to remove them once they were there.

I pointed out that, first of all, I was looking at a screen of the program that listed the two infections, gave me several options including "Repair" and "Delete," but wouldn't do any of those things when so directed. So, yes, the program is designed to remove them once they are there. Secondly, since they got there, the program hadn't done the part of its job he admitted it was supposed to do. Anyway, he made a few suggestions of the "well, you might try this" variety, then recommended that I have him hand my case off to "The Engineers," another department which allegedly knows something about fixing what I needed fixed.

That would have been fine except for this: Though I pay an annual fee for this virus program that promises to keep my computer free from viruses and to remove them if they do get on there, I have to pay an additional fee for The Engineers to assist me. How much? $179.00. I decided, not out of cheapness but principle, I didn't want to do that.

That was the end of the line with this guy. He said to me, "Is there anything else I can help you with today?" I replied, "You haven't helped me with anything so far" and that was the end of that call. I decided to try one of his suggestions, which was to run his firm's virus scanner in Safe Mode. That, he said, might allow it to remove the infections. I rebooted into Safe Mode, ran his program…

…and discovered that his program won't run in Safe Mode. Or at least, the part of it I needed to use wouldn't run in Safe Mode.

So I got out of all that and went back into what I guess you'd call Unsafe Mode. I then did a System Restore to restore my system to the configuration of a week ago. Then I ran his virus program again…and the infections were gone. Howcome he didn't suggest that instead of the $179.00 Engineers? I'm guessing that (a) he was just reading scripts on his computer screen and that's what they want him to suggest…and (b) I need a different primary virus checker.

The Buddha's Belly on Beverly Boulevard just east of Fairfax closed last September. The eclectic Pan-Asian restaurant had struggled for some time. The last-ditch effort to keep it open involved turning its private dining room into Buddha's Lounge (a bar 'n' snack place) and then making the place look more like a cocktail lounge. I was never a huge fan of the food there — I was once served an entree that was so overcooked as to be inedible and the management had zero interest in replacing it — but I had friends who loved it. I didn't much like the parking situation either, and suspect that accounted for some of its problems.

But a lot of people swore by its unique twist on some Asian staples. The magician Ricky Jay seems to have loved it…or maybe it was just coincidence that he always seemed to be at the next table when I ate there. Maybe he knew some magic trick to turn what he was served into something edible.

For the last few decades, Tim Conway has been criss-crossing America with well-attended, highly-lucrative (I hear) concert appearances. Originally, he did them with Harvey Korman as his partner. Then Korman decided to take life easier and Conway began doing some with Harvey and some with Don Knotts. Then Don died and Tim began doing some with Chuck McCann.  Then Harvey died and Tim began doing them all with Chuck McCann. All or most of these also featured the fine comedienne, Louise Du Art.

Recently, Tim's been on a book tour to promote his autobiography. I saw him two weeks ago and I mentioned here then that he seemed weary and unfocused. I suspect that has something to do with the announcement his reps made today…

After completing an exhausting and extensive national book tour promoting his autobiography, So You Think That's Funny, Tim Conway, in consultation with his family, has decided that it's time to retire from performing live in concert on the road. Tim will truly miss this part of his performing career and will look back upon it with only very fond memories. He sincerely apologies for any inconveniences and disappointments this has caused to his fans and to the venues but believes that this is in his and his family's best interest going forward.

He had several appearances booked through March and some or all of them will not happen. I assume this means he feels he's just not up to them but will still be available for TV, movie and voiceover jobs. It's a shame because if you never saw Tim perform live — I did, several times — he was very, very funny. And I sure hope the sudden cancellation of gigs that were already scheduled doesn't mean something bad with his health. A great guy and a great talent.