The rumor is making the rounds of the web that the great cartoonist Jack Davis, best known for his work in MAD magazine, has passed away. This is not so. Apparently, someone else with that name died, leading to the erroneous conclusion.

I was suspicious last night when I returned home from a dinner meeting and found a raft of e-mails from folks asking me to confirm it. The dinner meeting (seen below) had been with some folks who work on MAD including its editor, John Ficarra. John hadn't heard anything about it and neither had any of the rest of us.

Left to right, we have MAD writers Tony Barbieri and Scott Maiko, Sergio Aragonés, John, MAD writer Arnie Kogen and me. The photo was taken by a very attractive waitress who had never heard of MAD magazine, which means that an upcoming issue will feature an unflattering piece called "A MAD Look at Very Attractive Waitresses Who Have Never Heard of MAD Magazine." Some topics are just begging for satire.

As we go through the next few years towards the 2016 presidential election, I intend to often remind you of this. It's the final Gallup Poll on the 2012 contest and it shows Romney beating Obama by a point. In reality, of course, Obama got 51.1% of the popular vote and Romney got 47.2% so instead of Romney over Obama by 1, it was Obama over Romney by 4.

Keep this in mind: This was what Gallup was predicting the day before Election Day. It stands to reason that the farther out you are from the actual voting, the less reliable the polling will be.

I am not suggesting that all polls are inaccurate, particularly in the aggregate. Nate Silver famously nailed the vote by analyzing all the polls with a skeptical eye. I'm just saying that when you see Gallup say that Rand Paul would beat Hillary Clinton by X%, remember: These guys couldn't get it right the day before. A week before stands an even worse chance of being right and a month stands less…and as for three years…

And by the way: When the Gallup folks issued the above Final Prediction, they said it had a margin of error of plus or minus two points. In other words, they said Romney was going to win but would have claimed the poll was accurate if Obama had won by a point.

No one has had a longer, more glorious career in show business than Rose Marie. She started as a child singing star — so young, some doubted that that great voice could possibly be coming out of a kid of single digit age. She worked with everyone: Al Jolson, W.C. Fields, Jimmy Durante, Milton Berle, Phil Silvers, You Name Them. I first became aware of her when she played comedy writer Sally Rogers on The Dick Van Dyke Show in the sixties — maybe the first strong woman character on a sitcom who wasn't a servant or spouse, and boy was she great on a great show. And later she was a regular on The Doris Day Show and Hollywood Squares and so many others.

I've been privileged to become friends with Rosie and I'd love her even if she wasn't an endless stream of great anecdotes. (And people say I have a good memory…) So I was going to wish her a happy…wait for it…ninetieth birthday today. But she doesn't want that. She asks that instead, I urge you all to make a donation in her name to the Doris Day Animal Foundation, an effort that does great work for cats, dogs and other creatures who don't have someone to care for them. You can thank Rose for all the wonderful work she's done by giving some bucks over here on her website. You can also learn a lot more about her there, as well.

We celebrated her birthday with a small, lovely dinner last Friday night. Let's do this clockwise: The lovely lady in the lower left is Arlene Silver, AKA Mrs. Dick Van Dyke. The gent next to her is Mr. Dick Van Dyke. Next to Dick is Rose and next to Rose is the charming Jeanine Kasun. Jeanine is the host of Baby Boomer Favorites, a fine radio show you can hear the same place you can hear Stu's Show, which we often plug on this site. Next to Jeanine is the host of Stu's Show, Stu Shostak. Then next to Stu is me and next to me is, at lower right, the splendid Laraine Newman from the original Saturday Night Live and oodles of current cartoon shows.

We all convened at a fine seafood eatery in Santa Monica to toast Rose and tell stories. I can do none of theirs justice and if you read this blog, you've heard most of mine. But I wish you could have heard Dick tell about Maureen Stapleton getting plastered at the wrap party for Bye Bye Birdie or Rose tell about complaining to the hotel owner about her paycheck being $11 short when she played a Vegas hotel in the early days of that town. The hotel was the Flamingo, the owner was Bugsy Siegel…and somehow, she not only survived, she got her eleven dollars.

But that's Rose…truly a survivor. I asked her how it felt to be middle-age because I can't grasp the possibility that she won't be around for another ninety years. Here she is with a little tune about getting older…but before you watch it, go over to her website and send some money in the name of Rose Marie. And don't do it for the cats or dogs, although goodness knows they need it. Do it for this fine lady…

Matt Taibbi on the student loan scandal/mess/whatever you want to call it. Remember the good ol' days when you went to college so you'd get a better job and improve your financial prospects?

I have occasionally quoted one of my favorite political reporters, Jack Germond, about what he thought was wrong with the media today, and I believe he was talking about print as well as TV, but mostly TV. He said, "The problem is that we aren't paid to say 'I don't know' so we have to say something even when we don't know." He was the kind of reporter they don't make much anymore…the kind who was fierce about reporting the truth and unafraid to piss off the rich 'n' powerful. Here's a remembrance by his co-panelist on The McLaughlin Group, Eleanor Clift.

My father was a world-class worrier, mostly about me. He would worry about the darnedest things…and usually not obvious ones. There were times he'd go into Deep Worry Mode and my mother and I would have no idea what was on his mind. We'd ask and he'd say he was worried about something so much, he couldn't talk about it. I could have made up a list of one thousand things that might have been worrying my father…and when we did find out, it was something that wouldn't have appeared on that list.

Here is a story I sometimes tell people to give them an idea of how my father could worry like nobody could worry…and about things no one else would worry about. It took place around 1979. I was living in a little two-bedroom apartment over near where the Beverly Center was soon erected. He was retired and he would come by about once a week to visit with me and talk and offer to run errands…and just generally be near me. Which I liked.

I was then involved with an actress who was doing a lot of television. One night when she slept over, I told her she had to leave around 10 AM because my father was coming by at 11. I didn't want my father to find a woman in my apartment. I thought it would just give him one new thing to worry about.

She said fine, she'd leave shortly after 10. She was working on a show that taped at CBS not far from where I lived. A script was being messengered to her at my place and it was to arrive no later than 10. Once she had her script, she could split. It seemed like it would all work out perfectly.

At 9:50, she was getting out of the shower and I was waiting to get in. The doorbell rang. "That's my script," she exclaimed as she wrapped a towel around herself and added, "I'm about to go give a delivery boy the best thrill of his day." Do you all see this one coming?

I didn't. I was in the shower when she poked her head into the bathroom and told me, with equal notes of panic and amusement, "Mark, I just flashed your father."

Hurriedly, we both dressed. Her script arrived at 10:00 on the button. She grabbed it, mumbled a quick apology to my father and departed. I sat down with him in my living room and we talked about…well, everything except the towel-clad blonde who had greeted him at the door. I was thinking that when we did get around to it, I'd try a little blame-shifting. I'd tell him the encounter was all his fault for not understanding Daylight Saving Time.

But he didn't bring it up. We talked about my career, what I was working on, a letter he'd received from some relatives back east, a problem he was having with his pension checks going to direct deposit, etc. Not a word about my friend. Finally, when it was time for him to leave and I walked him to his car, I felt I had to say something…

"Uh, before you go, I think we need to talk about the welcoming committee when you arrived…"

Standing by his car out there, he turned to me and said, "I'm very happy about that, son."

Okay, let's play a game. The game is called Guess Why Mark's Father Was Happy. I've had others play this and they come up with all sorts of reasons…

• He was happy that his son was enjoying his life.
• He was happy to find out his son was not gay.
• He was happy to get a look at my friend half-wearing her towel.
• He was happy because he thought (wrongly), "Ah, Mark's found a woman and he's obviously going to marry her and settle down and raise a family and make me a grandfather."

And you can stop guessing right now because you're not going to get it. If I gave you a month, you probably wouldn't get it. Not unless you knew my father.

He said to me, "I've been so worried about you living alone. It's not safe. It's good to know that if you had an attack in the middle of the night, there's someone there to drive you to the hospital."

Right. Because when I met her, the first thought I had was, "I've got to get this woman to sleep with me so that if I have an attack during the night, she can drive me to the hospital." What other motive could possibly enter a guy's head?

That was my father. Now, understand that he wasn't this way all the time. Just every so often, he'd get some doom 'n' gloom notion in his head…and I don't think they were ever about his own welfare. They were always about mine or my mother's. If he knew I was driving on a freeway, he'd worry. If he read in the newspaper that there had been a street mugging within ten miles of where I lived, he'd worry. If I was due at his house at 5:00 and I arrived at 5:10, he would have spent ten minutes fretting I'd been in a horrible accident.

Okay, that makes a tiny bit of sense, I guess. But later in his life, when some of his faculties were failing him, we once had this occur: I was due there at 6 PM. I'd learned by now to call ahead if I was going to be even a few minutes late but I wasn't late. I got there at six on the dot. He expressed great relief and admitted he'd been worried I'd been in an accident. I said, "I told you I'd be here at six." He said, "I know. But last time you came over, you were early and I got the idea you'd be early this time, too."

My mother and I tried everything to calm him down and sometimes, we succeeded. My greatest success in this area came when I was 24 and my parents were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. To follow this, you need to know two things about my father that I haven't mentioned so far in these essays…

1. My father was frugal. His job did not pay well but it paid well enough that we never wanted for anything. As was not uncommon among men who grew up during The Great Depression, he was concerned a lot about money — not making enough and/or spending too much — and would often inconvenience himself in manners that were not cost-efficient to save a dollar or two. He wasn't this way when my mother or I needed something. If we needed it, we got it, no matter what the price. But, for example, when he and my mother went to Las Vegas, as they did often, they stayed in a cheap motel, ate at the lower-priced buffets, played the nickel slots and avoided the big showrooms.
2. My father's fave entertainer, at least in the early seventies, was Tony Orlando. He had several Tony Orlando albums he played over and over and over. There was one called New Ragtime Follies that my mother wanted to use as a frisbee and fling into the adjoining zip code.

Now then. By the time my parents were ready to celebrate their 25th year of wedlock, I was working in TV and making rather decent money. Over my father's objections, I sent them to Vegas for their anniversary. He insisted on driving but I booked them and paid for a suite at Caesars Palace. I also arranged for front row seats to see the hotel's featured entertainer who was…wait for it…Tony Orlando!

(How did I arrange this? I was working on Welcome Back, Kotter at the time. One of the other writers there, Neil Rosen, had previously worked on Mr. Orlando's CBS variety series. Tony owed him a batch of favors so Neil, who owed me a few, called and secured the front row seats. He also asked Tony for another favor on my behalf…)

My mother told me this next part. They were sitting there, enjoying the show tremendously…but my father's enjoyment was crippled by the thought of what this was costing me. It wasn't as much as he thought but he whispered to her how uncomfy he was at the thought of "spending the boy's money."

Just then on the stage, Tony Orlando had an announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to have in my audience tonight a wonderful couple who's here in Vegas celebrating twenty-five years of Holy Matrimony. Let's have them stand up and give a nice ovation to Bernard and Dorothy Evanier!"

My folks were both stunned, my mother so much so that she couldn't stand up. But my equally-stunned father made it to his feet and looked around, waving and grinning, as the audience in the Caesars Palace showroom applauded. I suspect it was the only time in his life he was ever applauded by a large crowd.

As he sat down, Tony announced the next song was dedicated to them and he launched into "The Anniversary Waltz." My father, about as happy as he'd ever been, whispered again to my mother. He said to her, "You know, if the boy can arrange something like this, maybe I oughta stop worrying so much about him." And thereafter, he didn't worry as much about me. Some but not as much.

Singer-impressionist Christina Bianco dazzles us with a whole lotta diva sound-alikes…

Over in the National Review, Robert Costa details what's been going on in the Republicans in the House of Representatives. It's all about debates on how they're next going to hold the country hostage and what they want to get for that. It's all a valuable lesson for anyone who might have fantasized about having John Boehner's job.

I'm watching (and really enjoying) Charlie Rose's interview last night with John Oliver about hosting The Daily Show. If you're on the west coast and there's an early evening rebroadcast of The Charlie Rose Show in your area, it might be this episode since most stations don't broadcast the "new" show until 10 PM or 11 PM. So you still may be able to TiVo or catch it. I think tomorrow, I'll be able to steer you to a Hulu link to watch it online.

Paul Mecurio's podcast this week features an interview with Stephen Colbert, out of character and talking like the real guy. He discusses all sorts of things including the recent Daft Punk cancellation that left him scrambling for a show. This runs close to an hour…

Richard Brody sorta reviews the clips of The Day the Clown Cried which have gone seriously viral on the 'net, the ones I featured here the other day. In an odd way, I feel sorry for Jerry Lewis and a tad guilty about adding to the film's notoriety. I'm pretty fierce about protecting my right to control my writing and to not have anyone — be they employer, close friend or lover — see anything I'm writing until I'm ready for it to leave me and go out into the world. Jerry Lewis has every right to declare his movie an unfinished work he does not want seen and to not be hectored by people (or bootleggers) who act like it belongs to The World and he has no right to withhold it.

I like and respect Harry Shearer but when he was quoted as saying he'd seen it and it was a horror, he simultaneously (a) ratcheted up the demand to see it and (b) according to a friend of mine who is in tight with Mr. Lewis, "guaranteed that Jerry would never allow it to be seen." I know this isn't a popular position but I think that if Jerry doesn't want it seen, it shouldn't be seen.

Our pal Bob Elisberg has an interesting story to tell you about 3-D television. I could summarize it for you but it might take you longer to read the summary than it would to just read the article.

My pal Alicyn Packard co-stars in this video. This is a parody but it won't be for long because people will actually start doing this…

I don't like phone solicitations at all. I do not like being called by strangers trying to sell me something and I will never, ever buy something this way. If someone phones outta the blue and offers me a new Maserati Grand Turismo Sport for a buck and a half, no strings attached, I will still tell him no and to stop pestering me. And what I really don't like are these calls that pretend we have a prior relationship. Yesterday, the following conversation was heard on my phone. I've changed the names but otherwise it went just like this…

ME: Hello?

HIM: Mr. Evanier? This is Shel Wackhammer of Shmidlap Furnace Company. I see here that we did some work on your heating system in March of 2005 so you're more than overdue for an inspection. As you may recall from last time, we provide those free so I'd like to schedule to get someone out there…

ME: You're lying. You never did work for me.

HIM: Yes, honest, we did. March of '05. I have it right here.

ME: Really? What kind of heating system do I have?

HIM: Uh, forced air?

ME: BZZZ! Wrong answer. Try again.

HIM: Oh, what am I saying? It's right here in front of me in your file. Radiant?

ME: BZZZ! That's two down and one to go. Your last guess?

HIM: Let me see…geothermal?

ME: BZZZ! No, sorry, it was a trick question. The correct answer is gravity heating but the house stays so warm without it that I haven't turned it on or had any work done on it since the eighties. But we have some lovely parting gifts for you and thanks for playing, "Name That Heating System!" Bye!

Then later in the day, a woman who's selling solar installations called to thank me for being so nice to her when she called on me last December. "You told me you'd be ready to buy in the summer so I thought I'd bring our experts by to determine exactly what you need." I told her what I needed was to not be called by liars. They're now even infiltrating my e-mail. I got this the other day, addressed to me and meant (I suppose) to make me think I'd accidentally gotten a terrific offer intended for someone else. I've removed the clickable links but otherwise, it read just like this…

Larry, I was calling to schedule delivery of your medical alert system. It's the fall and I can't get up type of system leasing on TV. Looks like the system's been recommended by thousands of hospitals and medical professionals. Let's see, says here that this is already been paid for. Looks like you're getting the system because you cared yourself a friend, family member. Maybe even some when you know experience stuff on the past. So again so already been paid for it. So there's no cost to you whatsoever. Also says here that the shipping has already been paid for it. So to schedule delivery of your virtually Medical Alert system press one. Now again to I have your system shipped out to you press one now, press 5, to client shipment of your system. If you already have a medical alert system, please disregard this message again. If you already have a medical alert system, please disregard this message.

I'm guessing this approach works. So many businesses are trying it that it must work…on someone. I'm guessing it's all the same people who think Obamacare sets up "Death Panels."

So…what's the sense most Americans have about whether the deficit is falling or growing? And what's the truth? Kevin Drum has a couple of charts.