Help! I'm stuck on a bad show!

Off for a quick two-day trip to Gotham to speak at the Talkers radio convention. Meanwhile, here are some Friday Q’s for yous.

From SimoSSimonhammon:

We all know that you've had the good fortune to work on quite a few classic sitcoms, but I'm sure you've probably done or have known other talented writers who have worked on shows that didn't work. How, as a writer who knows they're good at their craft, do you or they deal with a situation where no matter how hard they work on it, what ends up on screen will ultimately be a flop?

First, check your bank account. Food on the table is always a good incentive for staying on a bad show. It’s a tough situation, especially now since there are not many really good sitcoms out there. There are not many sitcoms out there period so you have to feel fortunate just having any job. But if you want to trade up , here are a couple of suggestions.

I would write a spec of a good show. Leave your ego at the door. Don’t think, “Well, I’m on a show. I don’t have to write specs anymore.” Yes you do. Casey & Lee went from THE JEFFERSONS to CHEERS based on CHEERS spec. And they were showrunning THE JEFFERSONS at the time.

Also, I would suggest writing a spec feature or play or novel or just anything that’s your own and reflects your sensibility. Alan Ball was an unhappy staffer on CYBIL and to keep his sanity banged out a spec screenplay when he came home at night. That screenplay was AMERICAN BEAUTY.

You just have to prove that you're better than the show you're on.

Mike wonders:

I've read one of Bea Arthur's beefs with the Golden Girls writers was that they'd put too many timely cultural references into the scripts, which would therefore hurt it in reruns (i.e., jokes about Miami Vice or Hunter or Ronald Reagan, etc). As a writer, how much did you think about things like that?

I think about it a lot. Current references can kill a show’s long term prospects. The classic example is MURPHY BROWN. Dan Quayle jokes? Phil Rosenthal, creator of EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND had much better foresight. He made sure that there were no topical references in his series. I think RAYMOND reruns will be around forever. (It also helps that it’s a great show.)

I think one of Bea Arthur’s GOLDEN GIRL complaints was that not only were there too many modern references, seven-out-of-ten were Willard Scott jokes.

On CHEERS we sort of straddled the line. As a contemporary show we needed to pay some heed to the world around us but not be so specific that the gags would become anachronistic by June.

But it’s a double-edged sword. What makes some shows seem fresh and edgy is that their humor is up to date and topical. 30 ROCK springs to mind. But there may be a price later.

Meanwhile, on MASH we constantly sprinkled in references to 50s pop culture but what the hell? They just gave the show a richer texture and sense of time & place. Plus, who wouldn’t howl at a good Adolphe Menjou joke?

From dougR:

I assume you came up with the "Cheers" name for the bar and the show. So who owns the "Cheers" logo? Do you have a piece of it? Do you (or DID you) get revenue every time it was reproduced?

I did not come up with the “Cheers” name. Glen & Les Charles and James Burrows did. I don’t know what the royalty situation is but I suspect they and Paramount Television own the license and logo. I wanted to call the bar “Shit Face”. In hindsight they were right to pick the name they did, although it took me years to realize it.

David (not Isaacs) asks:

Who's the most beautiful actress you`ve written for as (a) a series regular and (b) a recurring character?

Are you kidding me? How suicidal do you think I am?

Please leave your questions (that I can answer without getting in massive trouble) in the comments section. Thanks.

Me & Tom Brokaw

Here's another snippet from the memoir I'm writing about growing up in the 60s. It's 1968. I'm a student at UCLA spending most of my time at the campus radio station, KLA.

In November, KLA utilized all its resources to cover election night. They sent people out to the various campaign headquarters. That was the sum total of their resources. I was assigned to the Biltmore Hotel downtown where both Hubert Humphrey’s and Senator Allan Cranston’s camps were housed. This was very exciting. I had a real press credential and could enter any restricted ballroom and watch volunteers blow up balloons. The presidential race was way too close to call, even hours after the west coast polls closed. So most of the time we media folk just raided buffet tables and schmoozed. One local reporter who was very nice and chatted with me for close to an hour was Channel 4’s Tom Brokaw. Who knew that years later we would both write books about the 60s and he would sell his?

At around midnight, the senator’s race was over and Cranston had won. We gathered in his ballroom for the victory speech. I was standing just off the stage. Cranston entered followed by his staff. His campaign manager was Jesse Unruh, rumored to be running for California governor in two years. He was standing right next to me. So after Cranston completed his speech I turned to Unruh, held out my microphone and asked if he was planning to run. He dodged the question, saying it was senator Cranston’s night. But I was young and brash and in college and didn’t give a shit. I began goading him. “Come on, you know you’re going to. What’s the big deal? Why can’t you just say it? It’s not like it’s a big secret.” I was the first Stuttering John. Unruh continued to duck me and eventually slipped away. When I got home late that night there was a message that my aunt from Louisville had called. Apparently my whole exchange with Jesse Unruh had been carried live on ABC. I probably got more national exposure that election night than Tom Brokaw.

Jesse Unruh did run for governor two years later. He lost.

By the next morning it was official. Richard Milhous Nixon was elected the 37th President of the United States over Hubert Humphrey in one of the closest elections in history. (The closest was when Al Gore actually won but George Bush became President.) Nixon vowed to reunite the country. It took years but he succeeded as the entire nation banded together to finally force him out of office.

AMERICAN IDOL: Top 2 + 10

“American Idol” is like the Academy Awards this year – a plethora of nominees but only two real contenders. It’s Siobhan Magnus vs. Crystal Bowersox. (Why does my spellcheck flag me for “Bowersox” but think that “Siobhan” is a real word?) The rest are just fish chum. I’d be happy if Crystal wins but I LOVE Siobhan. She’s got an amazing voice, a real sense of theater, and let’s just say it – she is so fucking weird! She takes wild risks – from brave song choices to last week trying to wear heels. But she’s always fascinating, always original. If the theme one week is lullabies I wouldn’t be surprised to see her pop out of a coffin.

Now that we’ve reached the Top 12 we’re back to the garish Idoldome. What’s with the judges and Ryan now making entrances? My daughter Annie said, “It’s Sunday Night Football!”

The theme this week was music of the Rolling Stones. They showed a tribute montage of the band at the top of the show, and at first I thought, why? Everyone knows the Rolling Stones. But then I realized, Mick Jagger was already 80 when Katie Stevens was born, so maybe not everybody is that familiar with them.

Attention Idol producers: Please, please, PLEASE stop showing footage of the contestants’ background.

NO
ONE
CARES

It’s just one long sappy stew of small towns, religious parents, hardships, gaggles of siblings, crippled relatives, toothless baby pictures, and near death experiences. “The Brady Bunch” meets “the Grapes of Wrath”. Just let the kids sing!

Highlight of the night was Ryan getting right up in Simon’s grill and Simon backpedaling away. Change his last name from Cowell to Cower.

Michael Lynche – the big kid with the canned ham biceps -- got things started with “Miss You”. I like him. Despite his menacing presence he’s very sweet. Michael won’t become the next American Idol but he’ll be close. And by close I mean he’ll be the next American Idol’s bodyguard.

The judges liked Didi Benami more than I did. She sang the dark “Playing with Fire”. Imagine being threatened by the Rose Queen. At least she didn’t cry though. More appropriate for her would have been “19th Nervous Breakdown”.

And what show were the judges watching when Lacey Brown massacred “Ruby Tuesday”? She was God awful! Every note was a clunker. Simon had no problem with the vocals. Really?? I bet when he watches the show back, (if he ever releases the pause button once his close up fills the screen) he’ll realize she sounded like a cat with it’s tail caught in a mop squeezer.

Casey James sang “It’s All Over Now”. Wordsmith Randy called it “bluesy, folksy, and rocksy”, thus comparing Casey to three of his favorite dwarfs.

Ellen finally got off a couple of great line when she said to Casey, “For most women, their hearts are going to start racing just looking at you. But then for people like me… blonds…”

Very funny. But then Ellen destroyed all credibility and proved she knows nothing about music by saying that Andrew Garcia’s performance was his best ever. Maybe earlier she should have said, “But then for people like me… deaf…” Andrew warbled “Gimme Shelter”. Kara took him to task for not sufficiently conveying the song’s message of war. She was clearly trying to show off her knowledge of music. On the other hand, I bet she couldn’t tell you which war.

Lee Dewyze crooned “Beast of Burden”. Randy said he sounded like Rob Thomas or Dave Matthews. I thought he sounded like Dean Martin.

Katie Stevens wore her prom dress to Rolling Stones night. In her profile puff piece she revealed that one of her goals was to “put Connecticut on the map”. Katie sang “Wild Horses”. She’s certainly not bad; it’s just that others are better.

Lowlight of the night was Tim Urban’s stupifying Reggae version of “Under My Thumb”. If only he had done it as a Polka. More apropos song selections for Tim would have been “The Last Time”, “Out of Time”, “It’s All Over Now”, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”, and “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”.

Siobhan Magnus, wearing a black party dress that really showed off her arm tattoo, gave the performance of the night with “Paint It Black”. She combines the best of Adam Lambert and Elvira.

Paige Miles, wearing what looked like a Boy Scout uniform, did a respectable rendition of “Honky Tonk Woman", especially since she has laryngitis. So Paige has a free pass this week. No one is going to vote off someone with laryngitis. Well, maybe Tim.

Aaron Kelly was next. He sang “Angie’ (which is really THE song to do if you have laryngitis. Jagger himself sounds like he’s being asphyxiated when he sings it.) Aaron sang it very well ; controlled and heartfelt. My only quibble is that his new hairstyle makes him now look like Astro Boy.

Crystal Bowersox got the pimp spot and without breaking a sweat delivered a knockout version of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”. Simon worried that she might be getting a little complacent. He’s right. This is the trap singers fall into when they’re not released from the hospital the morning of their performance.

Not sure which contestant is going home, but it makes no difference. The ultimate winner will either be “Crystal Locker” or “Siobhantar”.

Ron Lundy 1934-2010

He wasn’t particularly funny on the air. He was certainly not what you’d call “hip”. I can’t imagine him dropping acid with Mick Jagger or Janis Joplin. But he was always one of my favorite D.J.’s.

Ron Lundy passed away.

For most of the 60s and 70s he was the midday man on 77WABC in New York. From there he spent a couple of decades handling that same shift on Stereo 101 WCBS-FM in New York.

What Ron Lundy was was infectious. He was so warm, so friendly, so enthusiastic, so genuine that you just felt good listening to him. And if you were down, you just felt better listening to him. It’s hard to describe “Southern Charm” because few people besides ex-presidents have it anymore, but he did.

Ron’s appeal crossed over to all ages. Teens and parents alike thought he was talking directly to them. He was your bud, your kindly uncle, that nice neighbor who paid attention to you when your deadbeat husband didn’t. If Ron Lundy had been on WABC during the MAD MEN era Betty might not have resorted to banging that politician to fill her emotional void.

As a broadcaster he was impeccable. Blessed with a rich deep voice he could read copy so convincingly that even I wanted to shop at Korvette’s.

I never met Ron Lundy. Didn’t even in live in New York. And yet I feel a huge personal loss.

He died too young. He should have at least been 77. Or better yet, 101.

So long, Luv.

The 119 words you can't say on radio

Randy Michaels is the CEO of the Tribune Company. Once a major broadcasting and publishing giant (Chicago Tribune, LA Times, etc.), it is now crumbling like a sand castle. And Michaels, who in a similar role with Clear Channel Communication, laid the groundwork for that empire to collapse. So it’s understandable why Tribune would hire a non-newspaper man to oversee their operation in it's most dire time.

Anyway, recently he issued an edict to the news director of WGN radio listing 119 words or phrases WGN newscasters were no longer allowed to say. WGN, Chicago is one of the most respected radio stations in America. I can just see it -- "Mr. Michaels, the editor of the Los Angeles Times is on line one. He can't meet payroll." "Call them back! I'm busy with something far more important! Let me see... "pedestrian". We can't have our newscasters say pedestrian."

The absurdity continues as Michaels instructed WGN staffers to snitch on each other if they hear one of these dastardly words aired. "Dan, I know you hired me and rescued my family from financial ruin but you said "at risk" on the 5:30 cast so I just sent a text to Randy Michaels." Oh, the morale must be sky high.

So here is the complete list. And then to help guide the WGN news staff I've written a couple of examples of how news stories should now sound. What can I say? I'm a giver.

“Flee” meaning “run away”
“Good” or “bad” news
“Laud” meaning “praise”
“Seek” meaning “look for”
“Some” meaning “about”
“Two to one margin” . . . “Two to one” is a ratio, not a margin. A margin is measured in points. It’s not a ratio.
“Yesterday” in a lead sentence
“Youth” meaning “child”
5 a.m. in the morning
After the break
After these commercial messages
Aftermath
All of you
Allegations
Alleged
Area residents
As expected
At risk
At this point in time
Authorities
Auto accident
Bare naked
Behind bars
Behind closed doors
Behind the podium (you mean lecturn) [sic]
Best kept secret
Campaign trail
Clash with police
Close proximity
Complete surprise
Completely destroyed, completely abolished, completely finished or any other completely redundant use
Death toll
Definitely possible
Diva
Down in (location)
Down there
Dubbaya when you mean double you
Everybody (when referring to the audience)
Eye Rack or Eye Ran
False pretenses
Famed
Fatal death
Fled on foot
Folks
Giving 110%
Going forward
Gunman, especially lone gunman
Guys
Hunnert when you mean hundred
Icon
In a surprise move
In harm’s way
In other news
In the wake of (unless it’s a boating story)
Incarcerated
Informed sources say . . .
Killing spree
Legendary
Lend a helping hand
Literally
Lucky to be alive
Manhunt
Marred
Medical hospital
Mother of all (anything)
Motorist
Mute point. (It’s moot point, but don’t say that either)
Near miss
No brainer
Officials
Our top story tonight
Out in (location)
Out there
Over in
Pedestrian
Perfect storm
Perished
Perpetrator
Plagued
Really
Reeling
Reportedly
Seek
Senseless murder
Shots rang out
Shower activity
Sketchy details
Some (meaning about)
Some of you
Sources say . . .
Speaking out
Stay tuned
The fact of the matter
Those of you
Thus
Time for a break
To be fair
Torrential rain
Touch base
Under fire
Under siege
Underwent surgery
Undisclosed
Undocumented alien
Unrest
Untimely death
Up in (location)
Up there
Utilize (you mean use)
Vehicle
We’ll be right back
Welcome back
Welcome back everybody
We’ll be back
Went terribly wrong
We’re back
White stuff
World class
You folks

So here are two news stories told CORRECTLY:

In other bummer news today, President John Kennedy was shot and is believed dead but not fatally. He underwent that thing that doctors do when they cut you open and the results were not awesome. The gang-of-one armed homo sapien they think did it – Lee Harvey Oswald – tore ass out of the adjacent book depository as men in blue uniforms with responsibility ran after him, giving it somewhere between 109 and 111%. At the moment we have crude pencil doodle details but the innocent-until-proven-guilty murderer is still in close propinquity. According to reliable no-name people with knowledge, the FBI is lending that appendage with an opposable thumb. Mrs. Kennedy, the mammy of all her children is submerged in the dumps as a result of her husband being untimely whacked. You can drain the lizard for two minutes because I won’t be reading any more news until then.

-o-

Reports from the U.N. in Ee-Ran have Dee-termined U-ranium eff-orts Bee-lieved U-seable are ex-traneous. Meanwhile, fighting has become explosive and by that I mean things have actually gone boom. For retreating Ee-ranian soldiers, their boot heels have been a wandering since they are car and truckless. Many people were in harm’s crosshairs. The corpse count continues to climb but one non-military looky-loo who survived a near-hit said he’s lucky to still be pre-deceased. The end to the bloodshed is possibly definite but for now army guys with fruit salad on their uniforms say bombers will maintain their over fire. Coming up after you flog your bishop Marcie will have weekend weather including details on what could be an ideal storm.

-o-

Reporting from the Cactus League

Back from a short trip to Phoenix to perform some Dodger duties. Having covered spring training in both Arizona and Florida I greatly prefer the “Valley of the Radio Shack on every corner”. More teams in closer proximity. You can spend your vacation going to ballgames not driving hundreds of miles just to see some split squad game or getting lost in “Deliverance” country.

And the fact that it hailed the first day, that could happen anywhere.

Stayed at the Holiday Inn Express in Glendale. The couple in the next room took the word “express” literally. Who says Phoenix has no great theater? A crackling hate-filled performance of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” played nightly in Room 301. (I sided with her, by the way. He doesn’t spend enough time with the kids.)

Hooked up with a few buddies – Howard from LA and Mike & Bob from New York. Middle-aged Jews don’t hunt. They go to spring training games and eat less sensibly. Which you pretty much have to since Phoenix is the land of bar food. I don’t think there’s a place in town that doesn’t serve buffalo wings including sushi bars and vegan cafes. There are also gift shops in every restaurant. This is very strange to me. But you can enjoy a hearty breakfast at the Cracker Barrel and still pick out that perfect wedding gift for sis!

We dined our first night at the Saddle Ranch Chop House. What really sold us on the place was the décor. They had a mechanical bull! Add attractive women and beers from many lands and there’s no greater entertainment in the west! “Suburban Cowboy”. For middle-aged Jewish guys this was Hooters without the guilt.

The Chop House was just one of many fine establishments in the Westgate City Center. It’s as if a developer said, “You know what would look good on this empty field in the middle of friggin’ nowhere? Times Square! And just to give it that real authentic desert touch, let’s put a hockey arena in it!” All that was missing was a guy playing Three Card Monty and another urinating on your shoes and you’d think you were back in the greatest city in the world!

Warning: There are freeway cameras that capture you speeding. The fine is a hefty $161.00. I’m told the way to fight it is to claim the person in the photo is not you. Not sure that works in Phoenix. It does in Beverly Hills where most women have different faces then they did two months ago.

Good ribs at Famous Dave’s.

On Wednesday I got to announce the Dodger game from their spring mecca, Camelback Ranch. It was seen on Prime Ticket in southern California and just my luck, nationwide on the MLB network. What a train wreck… and by that I mean mostly me. First off, I still have an inflamed cornea so I really just have one good eye. I was fine as long as no one hit a ball to left field. I was counting on watching the monitor but because of the glare of the sun I couldn’t see it. They’d be flashing starting line ups on the screen and I’d be merrily talking about something else. Eight years major league experience and viewers must’ve thought I was there because I’d won an auction.

Then someone batted out of turn. Well, to be more specific – three players batted out of turn. This never happens. My daughter, Annie said, “How could they screw that up? Isn’t baseball like the only thing they do?”

So now I’m on coast-to-coast TV completely confused. Then all the substitutions began and it was like Lucy and Ethel at the candy factory and those chocolates just kept coming down the conveyor belt faster and faster. I may have called a Diamondback pinch runner Diablo Cody, I’m not sure.

Steve Lyons, my partner, said in fourteen years of broadcasting this was the hardest game he’s ever had to call. It was surely not my finest hour but still I had a blast. Thanks again to Steve for never saying on the air, “What the hell are you talking about? and the Dodgers for the chance. I look forward to doing another game when runners pass each other on the base paths and a meteor lands on the field.

If you do come out for spring training make sure you catch a game at Camelback. Tickets are affordable and new this year: free parking. Would you call that a “fee nix”? That’s maybe the only stupid thing I didn’t say during the telecast.

“Happy Hour” has two meanings in Phoenix. The standard one (that I took advantage of, downing six drinks in rapid succession after the game) and it’s also code for “Early Bird Specials”. The old people who aren’t filed away in Florida are in the Valley of the Sun. And they love their early dinner specials! So if you stop off at a local eatery looking to wet your whistle and order the “Happy Hour” special don’t be surprised if they bring you boiled chicken.

But you don’t have to be 80 to feel old. Howard and I asked the young desk clerk at the hotel where might we go for a good breakfast (and decorative soaps) and she said at the Westgate there was the “Jimmy Boo-fay”. What she meant of course was Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville. Face it, folks; we’re all “wasting away”.

During the flight attendant’s safety instructions on my Southwest trip home she warned that there was no smoking in the lavatories and added, “The fine is $2200. And I’m sure if you were willing to blow that kind of money you would’ve flown Delta.”

Later on the flight when they were taking drink orders, the skeesix a row ahead of me actually asked for an Arnold Palmer. I know that’s unbelievable but I saw it with my own one-and-a-half eyes.

Now you may think that all I did in Phoenix was eat, drink, and make a jackass of myself on television. Not true. There was so much more! I rented a car, I hosted Dodger Talk, and I got vigorously patted down. What a jealous boyfriend! I was just taking a picture of her on the mechanical bull.

Really rotten ritin'

I don't know how legit these are but who cares? They're really funny.

Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusementof teachers across the country. Here are last year's winners:

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E.Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other fromTopeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are known to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for awhile.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with powertools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Thanks to toadking.com for the image

If you thought the Jay Leno Show was a bomb

In 1961 CBS premiered a prime time game show called YOU'RE IN THE PICTURE starring Jackie Gleason. It was not well received. The show next week was unprecedented. Host Jackie Gleason just sat in a chair and... well, you'll have to see for yourself.


Jackie Gleason : "You're in the Picture"
Uploaded by werquin. - Discover more animation and arts videos.

What do producers actually do?

Here are more Friday questions answered.

From rockfish:

Being in both writing and sports, do you know why sports has rarely translated into a successfully popular TV show?

TV tends to shy away from sports-themed shows because they can be way expensive. At some point you need to see the games and that requires crowds, a lot of production, and MONEY. There have been some attempts but they tend to be too costly to justify their ratings. The worse ever was a sitcom on CBS adapted from the Jim Bouton book BALL FOUR. They did it as a multi-camera taped show all set in the locker room. You never saw them play. It was insane… but cheap.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS proves you can make a great sports-themed show. I just wish more people watched it. And there have been others. THE WHITE SHADOW for one. I'm sure you can come up with two or three more.

M. Shawn wonders:

What exactly is the job of a Television Producer? I know what a Director & Writer does, but I'm ignorant to what a Producer does?

Unlike in features this is a hazy area. In features a producer puts together the whole package – finds or develops the material, champions the project until the studio greenlights it, hires the director, and cast, manages the budget, and in some cases raises the financing. In television the show runner acts as the overseer of the production and in most cases he is a writer.

But then there are the non-writing producers (or “pods”). Here’s where it gets real murky. These are generally former network or studio executives who are given sweet production deals. And studios are now forcing writer/producers to attach themselves to these pods because the studio is paying for these pods. So in many cases these “producers” merely add another level of interference and take part of your profits for the privilege. There’s nothing they do that the writer/producer couldn’t do without them, and has been doing without them very successfully for fifty years. Executive Producer: Tony Soprano.

And finally, from YEKIMI:

What teacher did you "love" the most...someone in grade school? high school? college? or someone in the industry who may have "taught" you some things you would have never learned anywhere else?

The best teacher I ever had was a high school history teacher named David Solkovits. He made the subject come alive and kindled an interest in history I have to this day.

Along the way I have been incredibly fortunate to learn the craft of comedy writing from Larry Gelbart (pictured), James L. Brooks, the Charles Brothers, Tom Patchett & Jay Tarses, Gene Reynolds, and Jerry Belson. My directing gurus were James Burrows and David Lee.

There’s not a single English teacher I can point to in high school or college who really made a positive impact. But there was a radio newsman named Bruce Anson who taught me more about writing than anyone else. Here’s the post I once did about him.

What are you pondering these days?

My favorite Peri Gilpin story

Last week there was some grumbling that I didn't answer enough Friday questions. So this week I'm devoting two days to your questions. More answered manana.

Jeff gets it started.

We are big Frasier fans, but we just watch whatever show comes on cable. I never read about Roz - although we like her character a lot. Any stories there?

First off, Peri Gilpin is the sweetest human being on the planet. That has nothing to do with the story but I wanted to say it anyway. One day during the first season after a runthrough I said she looked very comfortable behind that control board. She said, “Well, my dad was in radio.” Being an old radio guy myself I asked who he was. She was sure I had never heard of him. He died quite a few years ago. Still, I wanted to know.

Jim O’Brien.

I was floored. I did know Jim O’Brien. He was program director of KHJ in 1969 and I did an audio documentary for college on the station and spent a day interviewing him. He was a great guy. After KHJ he moved to Philadelphia where in addition to radio he started doing TV weather. He died tragically young in a sky diving accident saving a fellow diver whose chute didn’t open.

One day on KHJ he filled in on the air and I happened to tape the show. I dug up the tape – it was an old musty reel-to-reel, and gave it to Peri the next day. I knew the sound department could figure a way for her to hear it. She was very touched. A couple of days later at runthrough she thanked me again and said it was the first time she had ever actually heard her father on the radio. She was very little when he died.

I have other Peri stories but that’s my favorite.

Dan Brown asks:

What kind of priority was reality in your scripts? How much emphasis was there in keeping things plausible? My biggest pet peeve now with sitcoms is that even some good shows, such as The Office, defy believability. The other night, Dwight punched out Pam's window and tore up the house with a sledgehammer when asked to retrieve an iPod. Uh, sure.) Even in comedy, shouldn't writers ask themselves: Would this really happen?

I can’t speak for that OFFICE episode but personally I think it’s crucial to keep it real (Jesus, I sound like Randy Jackson). On MASH we had medical advisers, on-set nurses, and military advisers just to make sure everything was plausible. And on CHEERS we drank.

But the best comedy comes from reality. If you can believe or better yet, identify with behavior the better your chances of laughing. Characters can act irrational, crazy, weird – anything you want, as long as it’s justified. We joke about actors always needing to know their “motivation” but they do. Rachel Roberts, a wonderful actress on the old TONY RANDALL SHOW once said to us after a scene in rehearsal: “So what’s my motivation? I’m an out patient?” Yo, dawg, keep it real. Know what I'm sayin'?

What’s your question? I try to get to as many as I can. Honest. Really. No, I mean it.

Ru Paul's Drag Race

So let's switch gears from yesterday and baseball.

Spanning the dial to bring you the cheesiest in reality shows, I have uncovered a gem. Many thanks to my daughter Annie for turning me onto this little beauty. RU PAUL’S DRAG RACE on Logo. Logo is the gay network although I think this show is even too gay for them.

RU PAUL'S DRAG RACE follows your standard reality competition format with contestants put through various challenges and one getting eliminated every week. Except they’re all drag queens and the grand prize is $25,000, a P.R. firm’s services for a year, and various and sundry drag queen gigs. Not exactly life-changing but certainly enough to warrant these guys humiliating themselves on national television.

We get to meet the drag queens in and out of costume. And we see Ru Paul not in drag. That was a first for me. Out of the wig and gowns he looks kinda like the villain in PRINCESS AND THE FROG. The contestants all go by their drag queen names. So Pandora’s Box is pitted against the likes of Jujubee, Raven, and Tatiana.

They live together in a house with big steel doors and exposed rivets on the wall. I half-expected to see the Gimp from PULP FICTION chained to the floor. Imagine my disappointment.

The first challenge was called “the Queen is Right”. It was “the Price is Right” except with items drag queens would consider essentials. So they had to guess the price of white tube socks, pepper spray, duct tape, brass knuckles, and a human hair wig. These items were displayed by muscular male Chippendale-type models who were bare-chested except for neck ties, The winner got to call his mother. I swear, I’m not making this up.

Then they all had to play the “Snatch Game”. Gene Rayburn is rolling over in his grave. The queens were expected to impersonate a celebrity of their choice – complete with costume and make up of course. So they went as Carol Channing, Beyonce, Pink, Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, Whitney Houston (the Bobby Brown Whitney, not Clive Davis version), and Ru Paul. The 200 pound man who did Carol Channing was a riot and the guy who did Britney looked so authentic he could actually pass for Britney Spears until he got out of a car.

They had to answer “Match Game” type questions like “Slutty Sally was so slutty, when she rode on a disco stick she…” Everything about this show just screams class.

Then there was a runway competition. One by one these bruisers came out in flamboyant ridiculous gowns, cat suits, and Jackie Kennedy outfits.

The bottom two were selected and to help Ru Paul make his final decision they had to “Lip Sync For Your Life”. Cat woman stripped down to bra and panties and did cartwheels with such force the stage almost collapsed.

He proved to be the loser as Ru Paul delivered the soon to be famous catch-phrase, “Sashay away!”

And my favorite moment – this is what got me hooked – Ru Paul asks one of the drag queens, “Where did you get your sense of humor from?” to which he replies, “My father passed away.” That’s it. I’m setting my DVR for a season pass right now.

RU PAUL’S DRAG RACE. For good delicious jaw dropping entertainment you gotta check it out, “Squirrel friends”.

Join me on MLBN for Dodger baseball

Hello from Phoenix where I’m covering spring training and doing my Dodger Talk shows on 790 KABC.

On Wednesday I’m calling the play-by-play for the Dodgers-Diamondbacks game on Prime Ticket in Los Angeles, and on MLBN nationwide if you get that cable channel. Game time: noon pacific. I’ll be doing it with Steve “Psycho” Lyons. So set your DVR or better yet, call in sick at work.

Spring Training games are always…uh, interesting to call. Especially early in the spring. Each team has a roster of 100 players and by God every one of them gets in the game. And it is not uncommon to have two or more players on the same team with the same number – usually 87. This year the Dodgers have a player with the number 0 and one with the number 00 (he is licensed to kill).

This was so much easier last spring when the Dodgers played the National Team from Korea. No joke – every player on the Korean team was named “Lee”. So you could have the wrong guy in the wrong position batting in the wrong spot and no one would ever know.

But at least the Dodgers’ new facility – Camelback Ranch in Glendale, Arizona – is gorgeous and state-of-the-art. I’ll be calling the game from an actual booth in an actual press box behind home plate.

That has not always been the case for me.

During one spring training with the Mariners we played the Angels, who at the time were still in Palm Springs. Sinatra and Cheetah were frequent attendees. Since the Angels were also televising that game there was no room in the press box for visiting radio (us). So they set up a long table in the stands and that’s where we did the game. I’m on the air to a thirty-station radio network, sitting on the aisle, and calling a very exciting inning. Hits and double steals and rundowns. Forget that I can’t see them because the six Mo’Niques in front of me stand up, but as I’m calling a triple I feel a tap on my shoulder. I glance over to see a vendor with a two beers. He wants me to pass them down the row. I do, continue to call the play, and then feel a tapping on my other shoulder. I’m to pass the money along. I do, keep announcing, another tap, I have to send along the change. This was the big leagues!

When I was with the Orioles we played two exhibition games at Joe Robbie Stadium (or Land Shark Stadium, whatever they call it now). This was before the Marlins (who now draw maybe a thousand people a game… if it’s “free car night”), there was no baseball press box so they just put us in the football press box, a thousand miles from home plate way down the right field line. Every ball hit looked like it was going to right. You had to take your cue from the fielders. But you could be fooled. “There’s a fly ball to center field…foul.”

Later that same spring, we played two exhibition games against Boston at RFK Stadium in Washington, D.C. Same story. No baseball press box. Just a luxury box. In this case, one box for both our broadcast and the Red Sox, separated only by a flimsy riser. I could hear Boston announcer, Bob Starr as loud as I could hear myself. And so could the Baltimore listeners. All I could do was have fun with it. I’d say, “And now for the 1-1 pitch, here’s Bob Starr” then point the mic to him in time for my listeners to hear “low, ball two.” Then I decided to mess with Bob (who was a GREAT guy by the way and a good friend). Every time he called a pitch a fast ball I called it a curve. Every time he called a slider I called it a change up. Listeners don’t believe announcers can accurately call pitches anyway. This just confirmed it. I would pull these little pranks to amuse myself, and the Orioles listeners. Is it any wonder I only lasted a year there?

So I hope you join me Wednesday at noon pacific – Prime Ticket television in Southern California, and MLBN coast-to-coast on cable. And if anyone knows anything about the Arizona Diamondbacks’ minor leaguers – HELP! To quote Butch Cassidy: Who are these guys?”

The 2010 Academy Awards

The Oscars were very elegant this year all the way up to the opening number. Then Neil Patrick Harris sang about sodomy, masturbation, and prison and Hollywood’s classiest night was underway! But the hosts were good, there was some genuine suspense for a change, and if you could make it all the way till the end, a very satisfying ending.

People are saying “Hurt Locker” was an upset. No. “A Serious Man” would have been an upset. “Hurt Locker” deserved Best Picture and it’s just an added bonus that it beat out the most expensive movie ever made shot by the most pretentious director who ever lived.

But first things first – the red carpet shows. Several channels covered it but for sheer obsequiousness and stupidity you can’t beat Channel 5 with the publicists’ best bitch, Sam Rubin and some anorexic named Jessica Holmes. In the middle of Sam’s interview with “A Single Man” director Tom Ford he blurted out, “Oooh, there’s Kathryn Bigelow. But I’ll spend a few minutes talking to you.” Nice.

Jessica whoever-she-is to Christoph Waltz: “If you win, what language will you give your speech in?” Later she paid Christopher Plummer the ultimate compliment. “You play crazy very well.”

No rain unfortunately. That alone spoiled the red carpet show for me. I was so looking forward to hearing, “So who did your poncho?” “Do you think rain on Oscar night is proof there is Global Warming?” “Fashion catastrophe! Kathy Bates and Penelope Cruz have the same galoshes!”

The Oscars were held at the now legendary Kodak Theatre. Believe it or not, it was on that very stage that Siobhan Magnus learned she had made the top 24 of “American Idol”.

The opening monologue with Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin had some good laughs. There were the obligatory five “Meryl Streep number of nominations jokes” but Steve Martin comparing “Precious” to “the Jerk” was hilarious, even if no one under 60 had ever heard of “the Jerk”.

Alec Baldwin proves once again that the way to get respect in the film industry is to leave it for television.

The academy and ABC were not subtle in their desperate attempt to rope in more young viewers. Early presenters included film queen Miley Cyrus, national treasure Amanda Seyfried, that grand dame Kristen Stewart, and master thespian Taylor Lautner.

For every time they featured Helen Mirren in the audience they showed “Star Trek’s” Chris Pine twenty times.

I was thrilled Christoph Waltz won. The last time I rooted for a Nazi was my high school production of “Sound of Music”.

Sorry Woody Harrelson lost but this was a big step in his quest to become Robert Duvall.

My daughter Annie said Tina Fey was there to show she can still dress after the Golden Globes.

It’s bad enough they now have ten “Best Picture” nominees when you know it’s a two-man race and all the rest are just schmuck bait. But now we had to sit through all ten introductions and film clips. Hey there academy, don’t insist you’re taking steps to shorten the show then spend five minutes telling us why “District 9” should be movie of the year.

Nothing against Jeff Bridges but they couldn’t find a single Jew to introduce “A Serious Man”?

All in all, better gowns this year. J-Lo looked gorgeous as did Sandra Bullock. Charlize Theron had what looked like two purple cupcakes on her breasts. I didn’t notice the rest of her dress.

It’s bad enough no one knows any of the “Best Song” nominees but this year I didn’t even know one of the movies it was from. What the hell is “Paris 36?” Was it actually released or was it one of those films that opened at 35,000 feet?

Sarah Jessica Parker’s gown looked like a torah cover. And she was presenting for “Best Costume Design”.

There was a “thank you cam” backstage so winners could take as long as they wanted to acknowledge people. I thought that was a bad idea until Jeff Bridges’ endless rambling pointless speech. Hey man, you’re the Dude. You should know better.

Robert Downey Jr. wore his best sneakers for the occasion. I find it ironic that he was presenting for “Best Screenplay” when he is a notorious writer killer.

Glad Mark Boal won for “The Hurt Locker” screenplay. He’s being sued left and right for possibly lifting the idea from a magazine article. But I think it’s a stretch to say stole the “Hurt Locker” from Cosmo’s “75 Crazy Hot-Sex Moves”.

It kind of takes away from the prestige of the Oscars when they break away for a Spam commercial. And excuse me but when they showed that ad with the starry eyed young woman and you think it’s a perfume commercial only to learn it’s about cervical cancer, I laughed. It takes a special Mad Man to turn “cervical cancer” into a punchline.

Whatever happened to Revlon?

Gee, “Transformers” lost.

Was Vera Fermiga wearing a giant red fan?

Dumbest acceptance speech line goes to Ryan Bingham who said, “I love you more than rainbows”. He won his Oscar for lyrics, by the way.

The tribute to John Hughes was lovely but when they introduced the Brat Pack how many times did you gasp?

Nice to see David Frankel sing the praises of short films. He won an Oscar for his. But in his speech he neglected to say his was really a failed TV pilot that on some technicality managed to qualify.

I guess the academy didn’t think “Music by Prudence” was going to win anything. They were in the last row. They had worse seats than the KRTH contest winners. And that woman who won? Could you understand a single word she said? Jesus, the “Best Foreign Film” winner was easier to understand.

No one can take a funny bit, milk it, stomp it, kill it, kill it some more, and grind it into the ground until it’s powder like Ben Stiller.

No surprise that Mo’Nique won. First one to her feet for the standing ovation – fellow nominee Vera Fermiga. You sure didn’t see that when Quentin Tarantino lost.

“Young Victoria” was nominated for best make-up? How hard is it to make Emily Blunt even more beautiful?

The Legion of Extraordinary Dancers hoofed their way through the “Best Original Score” sequence. As my daughter Annie said, “They re-imagined “Hurt Locker” as a breakdance competition.”

“Original Score” winner Michael Giacchino gave a lovely speech telling young people that creative pursuits are not “a waste of time”. Unless that pursuit is “red carpet show host”.

I LOVED James Taylor singing “In My Life” during the In Memoriam tribute. But when people applaud for certain individuals it always feels like they’re happy they’re dead. Of course, knowing this crowd, they probably are.

Once “Hurt Locker” started racking up wins you got the sense “An Education” was going down.

Michelle Pheiffer looked fabulous. Of course they only showed her in a medium shot on a split screen. But still!

The only award I really disagreed with was Sandra Bullock winning “Best Actress” over either Cary Mulligan or Gabourey Sidibe. But Hollywood loves its own. And I’m sure this was a make-good for “The Lake House”.

To present the award for “Best Directing” the academy turned to the esteemed director of that motion picture classic, “Yentl” – Barbra Streisand. I’m sorry but unless she sings I don’t want to see her.

But Kathryn Bigelow winning "Best Director" was historic. She becomes the first director to have slept with one of the other nominees.

And then “Hurt Locker” beat “Avatar”. Oh… and “District 9”. Revolutionizing film is still not as important as telling a good human story. But I don’t think that’s the lesson James Cameron will take from last evening. A) he’ll be worried that Linda Hamilton has a project, and B) it’s time to invent 4D.

Why I review the Oscars

Because Hollywood takes itself waaaaaay too seriously.

When winners use clichés like “journey” and “artist” they MEAN IT. When they call a director who helmed AMERICAN PIE 10 a “visionary” they really think he is.

When Oscar attendees wear ribbons supporting the cause de jour they seriously believe they’re doing their part…just by wearing the ribbons. That’s not true in all cases. A few, like George Clooney are very sincere and generous with their time and money, but I guarantee you when the Haiti earthquake struck there were six studio heads (who will wear the ribbons) hoping this wouldn’t affect the weekend boxoffice.

Hosting the Oscars is a thankless job. The film industry does not like to laugh at itself. They don’t find it funny that they waste billions of dollars a year on projects like LAND OF THE LOST. And they don’t like to be reminded of it by some smart ass in a tux. And if you can’t talk about that their mistakes and foibles, then what’s left? “I see Meryl Streep is here. How many nominations is this for you now, Meryl? A hundred?” HAHAHAHAHAHA. (Probably that joke would be deemed inappropriate because it makes reference to an actor aging. These are people with thin skin, folks.)

The film industry does not want edgy humor. So imagine writing a roast for Mother Teresa. And they especially don’t appreciate edgy humor from “outsiders”. If you’re not a legit “film star”, if you’re not invited to Spielberg’s for Passover they want nothing to do with you. Chris Rock, David Letterman, Ellen DeGeneres, Jon Stewart – doomed before they even opened their mouths (although, in fairness, Letterman was just plain bad). It’s like Jackie Mason can make Jew jokes, Larry the Cable Guy can’t.

Not that attendees are looking to be entertained anyway. They just want to WIN. It’s such a joke that one of the producers of HURT LOCKER was banned from the ceremony because he sent an email to all academy members asking them to vote for his film and not AVATAR. Some members (read: opposing nominees) were outraged. But the truth is ALL of these producers and studio execs send emails and texts smearing the competition. They do it informally but it’s as common in Hollywood as hugs.

Studios spend millions on ad campaigns. Since Harvey Weinstein elevated it to an art and marketed his way to numerous gold statues all studios mount massive campaigns. Many actors get it in their contract that the studio must take out full-page ads in the trades on their behalf. One year I saw “For your consideration for Best Actor: Forrest DeKelly for his role as ‘Bones’ in STAR TREK 3”.

So when Hollywood takes itself sooo seriously, when Red Carpet shills like George Pennachio asks Amy Adams, “If you win will you be thanking the Teamsters?”, when local news anchors double as “fashion experts”, when winners thank their hairdressers before their families, and where the President of the Academy – who produced DEUCE BIGELOW 2 – gives a speech congratulating filmmakers for their courage and dedication to excellence I find it amusing. And worth pointing out.

That said, I hope it’s a great show this year. I hope the speeches are heartfelt, the gowns all gorgeous, and the production numbers dazzling. But I’ll be honest – I also hope for stupid questions, someone wearing the wrong ribbon, fashion train wrecks, and a candid shot of one of the “gracious” losers mouthing “fuck!”

My recap will appear late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Let the hyperbole and hypocrisy begin!

Is Tiger Woods a sexoholic? Yes, dear.

We may have all been fooled by Tiger Woods' recent scandal but the writers of YES, DEAR weren't. This is from several years ago.

Dark Haired White Women of Westminster

From one of the funniest people I know, Merrill Markoe:

Why did we leave MASH?

Today’s Friday question is one I get frequently (usually from my agent).

bevo asks:

How come you left MASH?

We had just completed the 7th season. From the time David Isaacs and I became head writers we pretty much wrote or re-wrote every script. We had a very small staff.

Most of the stories came from the research that we, and before us, Gene Reynolds and Larry Gelbart conducted with doctors, nurses, and soldiers who served in Korea. Usually we had two, maybe three story lines in every episode that would dovetail and eventually connect with each other.. The plotting was very intricate. And our shooting schedule was so demanding (an entire episode was shot in only three days; today a half-hour single camera show takes five or six days to complete) that we had no time to fix stories once they were on the stage. So we really had to get them right beforehand. On multi-camera shows sometimes you go to the stage with a script that’s still a little undercooked but you figure you have a week of production to shore it up. We had no such luxury.

Once we broke the stories David and I wrote every outline, even for the freelance writers we hired.

We made 25 episodes a year so that’s somewhere between 50-70 stories a season. And by year seven we had pretty much picked the bones of all that research. Plus, we were locked into the time and place. It’s not like other shows where characters can marry, have kids, get new apartments, new jobs. Our conceit was the entire run of the series took place over the span of roughly one year.

So by the end of year seven we had done every hot show, cold show, every visiting general, everyone had slept with everyone else, Klinger had worn every dress, we had done every practical joke, everyone had been caught naked in the shower, every activity had been interrupted by choppers, they raised money for every good charity, they performed every tricky operation, they endured every shortage, and everyone had written four letters home.

And worse for us as writers, the characters no longer surprised us. They were so established that by this time we knew exactly what they would say and how they’d react in every situation. (I can’t explain why exactly, but I never felt that way about CHEERS.)

Anyway, we were a little fried and figured it was time. We were offered a big development deal and pilot commitment from NBC so the timing just felt right.

Looking back, I think we could have squeezed out one more year. But then we’d be in the same situation. The show lasted 3 1/2 seasons after we had left. No way could we have done another 90 episodes without winding up in post op ourselves. Once we left they got smart and expanded the staff and I thought the new regime did a great job.

All that said…MASH was an incredible experience. I can’t tell you how proud I am of the work David and I did on the show. And we are forever grateful to Gene Reynolds, Burt Metcalfe, and Alan Alda for giving a couple of kids in their 20s such an extraordinary opportunity.

What’s your question?

Here's a great newsroom fight

Get Mary Richards to break it up.

Mo'Nique Talks About Her Open Marriage, Hairy Legs

Some stray thoughts and possible amusements:

Not what you want to hear: A police helicopter was sweeping my street last night and over a loudspeaker I heard: “Put down your weapon! Put down your weapon!” Note to neighbors: You might want to have your daughters sell those Girl Scout cookies tomorrow or the next night.

If they’re still looking for the plot of HANGOVER 2 I’ve got one for you. Read this yesterday in the New York Times. A newlywed Massachusetts couple spent their wedding night in separate jail cells after police said the bride tried to run over an old flame of the groom. Hubby was in the car at the time, which explains why he spent the night in the slammer.

I found this on Texts From Last Night. Maybe it was the ex. And if so, the bride should have run them both down. "giving him head while he's talking to his fiancee on the phone about me to their wedding... I'm invited. should i go or would that be wrong?"

I will once again be reviewing the Academy Awards and the red carpet arrivals. Look for it late Sunday night/early Monday morning. This upholds a fifteen year tradition – of not being invited to any Oscar parties.

It's supposed to rain on Sunday. I hope Armani makes slickers.

Starting tomorrow I will once again be co-hosting Dodger Talk on 790 KABC after every Dodger game. This year the show will be streamed on the net on KABC.com. So all you fans in Norway and Cambodia will get a chance to call in now and bitch about the starting pitching.

Some actual Huffington Post headlines:

Mo'Nique Talks About Her Open Marriage, Hairy Legs

Salma Hayek Reads To Children

For Sale: Giant Inflatable Olympics Beavers

Did Kobe Bryant Punch An Opponent In The Testicles?

Charlie Sheen & Brooke Mueller Had Druggie Threesomes

Robert Pattinson: I Do Have An Allergy To Vagina, Betty White Is Sexy

Jermaine Jackson's Kids Tried Stun Gunning Cousin Blanket

Child Directs Airplane Traffic From Control Tower

Spider-Man Hits The Unemployment Line

Real Housewife Now A Lesbian?

'Ax Men' Star's Daughter Killed By Family Dog

NFL Prospect Asked Idiotic Question: G-String Or Jock Strap?

Chuck Liddell Talks Nude Exercise Tape

Canada Celebrates, But Homelessness Remains

50 Foot, 20,000 Pound Mobile Home Stolen

Teen Dies In Sewage Pit Behind Long Island Dunkin' Donuts

And side by side Johnny Weir headlines:

Johnny Weir Wears Body Paint, Glitter For Vanity Fair

Johnny Weir Responds To 'Too Gay' Comments

AMERICAN IDOL: Girls will be Boys

AMERICAN IDOL pulled a last minute switch, having the boys sing last night and the girls tonight instead of the other way around. This is due to contestant, Crystal Bowersox – the hippie chick – being taken to the hospital for an undisclosed ailment. Hopefully she’s okay to perform this evening. And even if she’s not who’s going to vote off someone rushed to the hospital? Last year’s whackjob, Tatiana Del Toro is probably kicking herself right now saying, “Damn! Why didn’t I think of that?! All those wasted psychotic episodes!”

Before we get into the guys, an open letter to Ellen: BE FUNNY. Not just a wry comment now and again. BE FUNNY. That’s the only reason you’re there. You clearly know nothing about music, I think even Paula had a larger vocabulary, and you can’t finish a single complete sentence. Your function on the show is to entertain, not make Randy and Kara look smart.

Speaking of Kara, did she fall asleep in a tanning booth this week? She looked like George Hamilton in drag.

Because Fox is trying to milk two hours out of a one-hour show, there was a whole lot more filler this week. Startling revelations like the big fat guy who cried all through Hollywood Week likes musical theater. No!!! Or that English is the second language of the Korean kid. Jack Bauer usually has to torture people to get those kinds of secrets out of them.

The theme this week is “Billboard Hits”, so that much pretty includes everything but the David Hasselhoff discography.

Anyway, on to the guys – This year’s crop is like going to Smart & Final and buying all generic brands. The only thing that distinguishes one from the other is their neck tattoos (bar codes?). There’s not an Adam Lambert in the bunch. Hell, there’s not even…whoever that guy was who was in the Navy.

Two of them – Alex and Tim – should be trying out for the Mouseketeers. And Aaron is really Rachel Maddow at 16.







The most distinctive contestant is Casey and that’s only because he’s really Sawyer from LOST. This must be Sawyer’s storyline in the LOST alternate universe. On IDOL he goes by “Casey” but that doesn’t mean anything. On LOST he also goes by “James”. Kara usually drools over this guy and applauds wildly with her legs, but this week she was more critical. As Simon said to her (in the line of the night), “Did he not return your calls?”







Otherwise, there was the battle of Jermaine and Todrick, the riffing African-Americans, throwing plaintive “oh-ohhhs” in the middle of any word. “What’s love got to do with oh-ohhh it?” Neither will be around long. Then there’s Andrew, still trying to top the magic of improving a Paula Abdul song.

Mike, the football linebacker who probably has THE PAJAMA GAME soundtrack on his iPod, gave the performance of the night doing James Brown’s “This is a Man’s World”. And Lee, the big teddy bear, did a nice turn with “Lips of an Angel”. They're safe. Everyone else is iffy.

Hopefully the women are better, Ellen is funnier, Crystal is back, and Sawyer isn’t transported back to 1977 before Kara can lick cookie dough off his chest.

For cheating spouses, politicians, members of the clergy, and professional ballplayer – this is for YOU!

Those fine folks at Apple are now offering an app that causes your text messages to disappear. If Tiger Woods had this last year he’d still be married and shaving with Gillette. Ironically, the app is called TigerText. It allows users to set a time limit on how long their text messages remain. This can be anywhere from days to sixty seconds.

Wow! It’s like MISSION IMPOSSIBLE except with blowjob instructions.

Wives may start becoming suspicious though when hubby’s text messages suddenly go from 43 a month to 1,428.

Phone numbers would also be untraceable. And you would be unable to forward or save the texts. TMZ is going to have to work much harder now.

I imagine recipients of TigerText wouldn’t be thrilled. What woman likes to receive a love letter on an etch-a-sketch?

On the other hand, I could see useful aspects to this (besides the obvious, that you keep your job as governor of New York).

You could blackmail David Letterman without leaving a paper trail.

You could tell people you’re voting for the hot chick on AMERICAN IDOL when really you’re voting ten thousand times for the cute gay boy.

You could send this: “y do i txt u? its my choice. its my way of sayng i rmmber u. y do i rmmber u? its my choice. it proves dat i care. y do i care? dnt knw, its not my choice but my heart's.” without being humiliated the rest of your life. Or sent back to the second grade.

I’d sign up for this app just to obliterate the goddamn AT&T reminders I get ten times a day.

TigerText, on sale now at the iTunes Store. And coming soon: TigerTalk – a chat feature where your girlfriend will forget every word you say the minute you say it.