The last CHEERS: Film at 11

My weekly (weakly?) AMERICAN IDOL recap will follow in a few hours. I have to host Dodger Talk then will come home, watch and review the show. I understand tonight is inspirational music night so I damn well better be inspired.

In the meantime, as an addendum to my post last week about the final night at CHEERS, I found this local news feature on it. See for yourself what it was like.

The five mysteries of CHEERS

TV Squad did a post Monday looking for answers to the five greatest mysteries of CHEERS. So as an insider I thought I’d take a crack at them.

What did Vera Peterson look like?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder so for Norm I think her looks changed depending on the number of beers. I know that’s kind of a coy answer so I’ll just say if you’ve seen Maris Crane, she’s her twin but not as thin. People wonder if Norm really did love Vera. The answer is yes. You tell me a wife who’d let her husband spend his life in a bar. In one of the Bar Wars episodes I remember my partner and I had a joke where you went to Gary’s Olde Towne Tavern and off stage you hear “Afternoon everybody!” and everyone yells out “Vera!” but it got cut.

What exactly was Rebecca’s job?

Once Sam got the bar back he kept her on as a manager. Her chief job responsibility: sleep with Sam at some point. On numerous occasions when we were having a tough time coming up with a Rebecca line someone would say, “Wouldn’t Sam need another bartender more than a manager? Let him fire her and we won’t have to come up with this joke.” In truth, she did the accounting and ordered the liquor freeing Sam up to cut thousands of lemons an hour.

Why did Cliff wear white socks with everything?

It was a fashion statement. Not a good one but a statement nonetheless. Honestly, his fellow bar mates were just thrilled he changed them everyday.

When did Frasier have any time to see patients?

Usually in the morning before the bar opened. It’s the college courses he also taught that required a lot of juggling. But he wouldn’t be the first tenured professor who couldn’t stand up.

When did CHEERS close?

The standard 2 a.m. That gave Cliff a good two hours sleep before reporting to the post office. And Carla usually put her kids to bed at 2:30 a.m. so that schedule worked out perfectly.

I hope this solves the mysteries and I have fooled you into thinking I actually do know the answers to these questions.

There were some other CHEERS mysteries that I discussed about a year in this post.

Hopefully though, we made the show entertaining and funny enough that these inconsistencies didn’t bother you until the advent of the internet.

What spec scripts should you write?

Now that NBC has already announced its schedule for next season (renewing a show because it’ll be co-financed and a spin-off they know nothing about) it’s a reminder that spec script season is pretty much here. If you’re an aspiring writer this is the time of year when agents and show runners looking to staff-up are most receptive to reading new material.

So what should you submit?

I can speak primarily from comedy but the rules for drama are pretty much the same.

It used to be that show runners/agents (let’s just call them THEY) only wanted samples from existing shows. Tony winning playwrights were banging out spec DHARMA & GREGS. If you submitted something original THEY would not look at it.

Things have changed. Now that networks are trying to shake things up (translation: the old tired formulas they’d like to hold on to forever aren’t working anymore) THEY are looking for fresh voices and ideas. But not enough that they don’t also want to see how you operate in the formula world too. You can be daring just as long as you can also write NCIS.

So the new mandate: submit two samples. One from an existing show and something original. It could be a play, screenplay, one-act, series of sketches, or pilot. In the coming weeks I will share some tips on writing pilots. Just keep in mind there is a fine line between “original” and “scary bizarre”.

As for what existing show to write – the overriding rule is pick the show you love and feel best exhibits your strengths. You’re going to do a better job if you really know and understand the show. That said, it’s probably not wise to write a LOST or 24 – any show that has a continuing storyline (although if you have Jack Bauer trying to disarm a bomb while his daughter is kidnapped, there’s a mole in CTU, and the President wants him arrested you have an 89% chance of being right).

Procedural shows like CSI show off little character but if that’s your genre, go for it. I might hire any writer who does a CSI: MIAMI where David Caruso gets whacked.

For comedy – THE OFFICE is probably the hot spec now, followed by ENTOURAGE, 30 ROCK, EARL, and HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER. SCRUBS was big for awhile but has kind of run its course. Shows always on the verge of cancellation tend not to be good bets. TWO AND A HALF MEN and OLD CHRISTINE are more mainstream, UGLY BETTY and DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES are hours but contain a lot of humor. What best fits your sensibility?

It’s a gamble but sometimes if you can jump on a new show that you think will be around you’re ahead of the curve and won’t have as much competition from competing specs. The danger of course is that you kill yourself writing an episode of THE RETURN OF JEZEBEL JAMES and it’s cancelled the minute you get the 50 copies back from Kinkos. And I hope you’re not halfway through your CAVEMAN.

New comedies I might spec today are BIG BANG THEORY, SAMANTHA WHO?, and maybe PUSHING DAISIES. If I wanted to go more edgy I’d look towards THE RICHES or FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS.

But again, if RULES OF ENGAGEMENT or TIL’ DEATH is your favorite show, write that.

Some people have written novelty scripts – a spec DICK VAN DYKE SHOW or JEFFERSONS. Agents I’ve talked to think that’s a bad idea. Don’t out-cute yourself right into the reject pile.

Getting your script to agents/showrunners/anyone who can help you is another discussion. But if you don’t have the goods it makes no difference. Concentrate first on writing the best damn scripts you can. Good things will follow.

Every year new writers break in. Why not you?

Best of luck.

Tomorrow: Based on a TV Squad post today -- my answers to the five mysteries of CHEERS.

Cliff Clavin on JEOPARDY

One of the more memorable episodes of CHEERS is the one where Cliff went on JEOPARDY. It was written by Dan O'Shannon & Tom Anderson and directed by James Burrows. I remember the fun the staff had coming up with appropriate categories. During the strike I spoke to a writer for JEOPARDY who said from time to time they do use those categories and contestants have given Cliff's final answer: "Who are three people who haven't been in my kitchen?"

Alex Trebek did such a good job that during the week of production we added him to a scene in the bar. He's got a career in comedy if this game show host thing doesn't pan out for him.

Here is the JEOPARDY scene.



Tomorrow: What spec scripts should you write?

The "Nightmare"

I just had “the dream”. More like “the nightmare”. You know the one – profession specific. In my recent case, I’m about to go on KABC and do Dodger Talk and I’m in a new studio and I don’t know where the mic switch is and the engineer is gone and the phones don’t work and I’m supposed to discuss the just completed game but I wasn’t there and have no idea what happened and I can’t find my commercial copy and I’ve got to go on the air in three seconds and…I wake up in a cold sweat.

Everyone has a variation of this dream.

A stripper’s on stage and her zipper is stuck.

An LAX parking lot toll taker has to move in real time, not slow motion.

You sign a lifetime contract to co-host THE VIEW.

A manager is trying to get O.J. Simpson endorsement deals.

A postal clerk’s break is over.

An AMERICAN IDOL judge suddenly draws a blank and has a vocabulary of only five words (Okay, that one was real).

A presidential candidate is under sniper fire in Bosnia.

What’s your variation of the nightmare?

Aren't you Jack from Jack in the Box?

My heart goes out to character actors.

When you read casting breakdowns there are a lot more productions seeking, “Male, 30’s, handsome, charming” than “Overweight, 50’s, Italian/Russian mix, unibrow”.

And the few character actors that are successful enough that they don’t have to be service managers at Jiffy Lube ultimately get trapped by their own success. Producers will glance at their headshots or see them read and say, “Him again? Jesus. This guy’s been on a million shows. Can’t we find any new overweight Italian/Russians? “

When you walk into a room and the producers go, “Hey, it’s the ‘can you hear me’ guy!” or “I’ve seen that big white head before. Aren’t you Jack from Jack in the Box?” you’re dead.

Or if a production is to be filmed on location in say, Houston. They’ll cast from the local pool there. Yes, that Nazi soldier might speak with a drawl but it’s cheaper to over-dub him than fly a real Nazi halfway across the country.

And time is never a friend. They get too old to play the cute waitress, the ballplayer, or Julia Roberts’ best friend (although Julia Roberts miraculously never ages herself).

If a character actor isn’t hot agents often lose interest. There’s always some Chihuahua who’s easier to book.

The most heartbreaking casting session I ever held was on MASH. We had a USO subplot in an episode and needed an accordion player. One by one, ten accordion players came in to audition. They all looked right, they all could play “Lady of Spain”. We had to choose one, which we did. But I felt so terrible for the others. How many calls do they get from their agent saying “MASH needs an accordion player”? How many of them kissed their wives goodbye on the way to the casting session saying, “I know I haven’t worked in six years but I’ve got this one!”

So the next time you’re in Jiffy Lube or Wal-Mart or Staples be nice to the clerk. He may be one hell of an accordion player.

The last MASH

A reader inquired about the final MASH and whether I was involved in that one too. Directly? No. I had left the show several seasons before. But I did take part in some of the celebratory hoopla. You know me – a party in a bag.

As for the episode itself, it was written by Alan Alda and the staff at the time. The last show was broken down into half hour segments and each writer or team would be assigned one. They would then collaborate with Alan. Ironically, like with CHEERS, the final episode was not the last one shot. Each series filmed one additional episode (that obviously aired before the finale). Although, in the case of CHEERS, after that last episode was filmed and the audience was sent home, the final scene of everyone sitting around the bar was shot. So when the final wrap was called it was just the staff there to see it.

But I digress…(as usual)

The cast and staff of MASH from that final season watched the finale in a screening room. I was not invited. I watched the episode at home like one or two other people.

There was however, a huge party for everyone associated with the series at Morton’s restaurant in West Hollywood a week or so before the airing. That I was invited to. Our son Matt was two months old and we got my parents to sit. I think it was our first night out since he was born so my wife and I would have been thrilled to be invited to the premiere party for HOSTEL.

The MASH soirée was tre elegant. Bobby Short played. Imagine being able to just lean on the piano while Bobby Short sang. I also met Larry Gelbart for the first time. Larry had left the show the year before we came aboard. From time to time we would hear second hand that he liked a particular episode and it would boost our spirits for months.

At one point my wife and I approached Gene Reynolds, one of the real creative forces of MASH (and the man who originally hired us. Blame him for our career.) He was in a small group of people. We exchanged greetings and then Gene introduced one of the group members. “Do you know Gerald Ford?” Uh…no, but I’ve heard of him. So there we were chatting up the former president of the United States.

It was a great and memorable night. Too great and memorable. When Executive Producer Burt Metcalfe took my partner David and I aside and said Larry Gelbart was going to create the sequel and wondered if we were interested in getting involved, we might not have said, “Sure! You bet!” AfterMASH sounded a lot better with four glasses of wine and the former leader of the free world saying he enjoyed our work.

AMERICAN IDOL: Top 9 (to 5)

Dolly Parton night.
Okay, I like Dolly Parton. She’s got a good sense of humor, doesn’t take herself too seriously. But I’m sorry, with all the plastic surgery she now looks like the Joker in a blond wig. You’ve seen those scenes where a guy in tight pants bends over and they rip in half? Every time Dolly smiles that’s what I think is going to happen to her face. So it’s a tad disconcerting. And it must be worse for Ryan to see himself in ten years.

Maybe it’s because I’m not a huge fan of country music (it’s fine for playing in the background at barbeque joints) but Ms. Parton wrote 3000 songs and they all sound the same to me. The only tune I liked all night turned out to be written by others – Cynthia Weil & Barry Mann (who currently have a musical running in Pasadena based on the movie MASK – a heartbreaking story to us, a cautionary tale to Dolly).

Brooke White kicked it off with “Jolene”. It’s about one woman telling a prettier woman not to steal her man. Songs about Jerry Springer topics don’t thrill me. Brooke was fine. She managed to sing it all the way through without stopping. Beyond that… I dunno.

Before David Cook sang some gut wrenching song about a sparrow he did a brief interview with Ryan in Coca-Cola Corner. He explained how he chose his various cover versions. “Damage Control… brought to you by Coke!” The judges fawned all over him (AGAIN!) in a futile and transparent attempt to make the viewers believe someone other than David Archuleta is going to win.

Next up – Remiele Malubay, who would kill her parents and eat them if it meant making head cheerleader. “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?” was the Dolly ditty she oversang the snot out of. But if you disagree, vote for Remiele at 1-866-B-E-T-T-Y B-O-O-P.

Jason Castro sang “Travelin’ Thru”. “I’m travelin’, travelin’, travelin’ thru.” At least when Steve Martin sang, “I’m a ramblin’, ramblin’, ramblin’ guy” it was a joke. But Jason did an okay job of it and she should be safe for another week.

I thought the best performance of the night was Carly Smithson’s “Here I Come Again” (the song penned by Weil & Mann). Simon criticized her wardrobe. She’s not dressing like a star. What he really means is WEAR LONG SLEEVES!!!

David Archuleta sang “Smoky Mountain Memories”, a song about reliving painful distant memories. So who better to really sell that than a twelve year old?

Since this was a country-themed week Kristi Lee Cook didn’t have to wave Old Glory and shoot fireworks out of her ass. She warbled one of those interchangeable, forgettable country songs that will keep her safe for this week and land her a job singing at Knott’s Berry Farm.

Syesha Mercado never met a song she couldn’t strip of its melody. She attempted to do “I Will Always Love You” with her usual senseless runs and vocal tricks and topped it by trying to top Whitney Houston. She wasn’t even as good as Angelica Huston.

Michael (Bolton) Johns did “It’s All Wrong But It’s All Right” as if Freddy Mercury performed at a rodeo.

I think Remiele and Syesha are in the bottom two but the real suspense Wednesday night will be seeing Dolly perform under all those bright lights.

Addendum based on some comments:

let me repeat, I LIKE Dolly. I also don't hate country music. I would imagine a big part of the problem from me is that instead of Dolly Parton or superb C/W artists singing her material we got Jason Castro and girls with made-up names.

It was not a good introduction to the brilliance of her songwriting. And last season anyone not familiar with Cole Porter would wonder what all the shouting was about with him after hearing that bunch of chuckleheads trample his songbook.

The night the last CHEERS aired

I’m frequently asked about the last CHEERS. The night is best remembered for the cast being smashed on the TONIGHT SHOW that followed the finale’s airing. May 20, 1993. Here are my recollections of that night in Boston.

The CHEERS bar you see on television (now called CHEERS but originally named THE BULL & FINCH) is owned by Tom Kershaw. He owns the entire building. Upstairs are lounges and libraries.

The final airing was a national event. Far different from the premiere on September 30, 1982 when the cast and writers had a modest viewing party in the small back room at Chasen’s. We ate chicken pies, watched the show, and left. But for the finale, wow! Honored to say I was present for both.

The festivities began around 7. Thousands of people gathered outside the building and watched the show on two giant Jumbotron TV screens specially set up for the event. My guess is one or both of them are now in Simon Cowell’s living room. It had rained earlier in the day and even the threat of more did not deter the crowds. At most there were drizzles that night. No one was seriously electrocuted.

We were not allowed downstairs in the actual bar. Technicians were setting up for the TONIGHT SHOW. And to be honest, there wasn’t much to see. Unlike the TV show, the real CHEERS bar is tiny. The bar itself is up against the back wall. That night it was filled with thirty guys in T-shirts toting walkie-talkies named Dave.

The party was on the second floor. It was packed with invited guests, VIPS, NBC execs…oh yeah, and a few people who worked on CHEERS. Governor Dukakis was behind me in line at the buffet. Wade Boggs cut in front of me at the bar. I spent some time with Bob Costas who I knew from my sportscasting life. There were so few people he knew in that throng that he was actually happy to hang with me. Large monitors were scattered around the room and this is where most guests watched the show.

On the third floor there were two smaller lounges. That is where the cast, CHEERS people, studio and network honchos watched the program. I was sitting next to NBC Chairman, Bob Wright. Tried to talk him into letting me anchor the Olympics but he didn’t seem to go for it.

Every time there would be a big joke you could hear thousands of people laugh outside the window. Where were they for the AfterMASH premiere?

As the show unfolded the realization that CHEERS was really coming to an end began to hit us. Eleven years of dedicated talented people pouring their hearts into one project. 275 episodes. All the re-takes and rewrites and now all that will be left are reruns.

The show ended at 11. The next half hour was an emotional tsunami. Everyone was hugging and crying and doing a lot of drinking. We were all completely wrecked.

And at the very height of that, a rep from the TONIGHT SHOW popped her head in and said, “Okay, we’re ready.” The cast, in no condition to face anybody much less 40,000,000 dutifully trooped downstairs to do the live show. Us non-celeb types stayed back and watched on TV…in horror. But in fairness, they should not be held accountable for anything they said or did. And I do believe, that Jay’s inexperience with running the show then contributed to the whole thing falling apart. I’ve always maintained that Letterman would have kept things more in control.

When the actors returned they were so blitzed they still didn’t realize what a trainwreck the show was.

Two final memories:

During that emotional half hour from 11-11:30 the thousands of fans in the park remained and cheered. At one point Ted Danson leaned out the window and waved. As a goof I joined him. I said, “I have a feeling you’re the one they’re waving at.” And he said, “Yeah, but a year from now you’ll be working.” Obviously Ted scraped together one or two jobs since that night.

Second memory:

My partner David Isaacs and I have what we call the “Prince of the City” theory. Simply put it means the moment you think you’re hot shit is the moment you will be cut back down to size. It never fails.

So it’s about 2 a.m., I’m walking back to the hotel. It’s a bit chilly, I’m wearing a trench coat to protect against any more rain. And I’m reflecting on the night and how this little show I’ve been involved with had become a national phenomenon. And I allowed myself to think I must be a pretty damn good writer to be a part of it. Just at that moment a passing truck roared through a big puddle and I got completely drenched. I mean, sopping wet, soaked to the bone. And I had to laugh. Hail to thee, Prince of the City.

You had to be there...

115,300 people filed into the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum Saturday night to watch an exhibition baseball game between the LA Dodgers and Boston Red Sox, setting a world’s record and requiring 115,300 designated drivers. Fans started tailgating at 8 a.m. By noon they were hammered. Guys in blue face-paint and beer is not a good combination. But for the most part the crowd had a ball and behaved themselves. There were isolated fights but if you jam 115,000 people into a Barbra Streisand concert you’re going to have violence.

I was there for almost twelve hours, hosting pre and post game radio shows on 790 KABC and avoiding the nimrod dressed like Fred Flintstone in a Dodger helmet toting around a stuffed animal. I’d bet my house he’s one of my regular callers.

The event was a one-day return to 1958 when the Dodgers first arrived in Los Angeles. They played in a football stadium for their first four seasons. The dimensions were wacky as a result. Left field was insanely short and Right field was larger than Rhode Island.

All proceeds went to “Think Cure”, a new charity the Dodgers are instituting to battle cancer. The game took in over a million dollars and the McCourts (Dodgers owners) matched it. So the event was a huge success even before the first pitch (although by that time half the crowd was so blitzed they thought they were at a Raiders game).

I arrived at noon for a 7 p.m. start. I wanted to check out the scene and soak in the color before my 4 p.m. three hour broadcast. The festivities began with “Fan Fest” – baseball related games and booths. There was a moon bounce for kids and anyone who could pass a breathalyzer test. My station, KABC hosted a pitching booth featuring a great prize. If you hit the target you got a weekend show. Oldtime players were available for autographs and who wouldn’t want their picture with Jerry Reuss?

Music was supposed to be from the 50s but I guess that meant 50 Cent. I don’t recall the Platters ever singing “The Realist Niggaz”.

My broadcast partner, Josh Suchon and I checked out the press box and walked down to the field. Seemed like a real good idea, take pictures, stand at home plate. Then I discovered there’s no elevator back to the press box. Just a thousand stairs. By the time I reached the booth I wanted to plant a flag.

Back down to “Fan Fest”. It was now 3 p.m. and I was famished. Almost fainting six times builds up a hunger. Surprisingly, there was not much there to eat. One Carl’s Jr. roach coach with a mile long line. No way I’d make my show doing that. The only alternative was a KFC across the street. Sometimes a man is faced with a tough decision. Just how starved was I? Plus, I knew if I didn’t eat now I wouldn’t have another chance for four hours.

I passed.

The team buses arrived. I don’t want to say the Coliseum’s clubhouses were wanting but the players all came in uniform.

Found our broadcast location. It was right next to the row of porta-potties. Thank God there was no wind. I co-hosted the show with KABC’s morning man, Doug McIntyre. Like me, Doug is also a TV comedy writer so we bonded over people we hate. This was the highlight of the day for me – getting to interview former Dodger greats from my misspent youth. Carl Erskine, Wally Moon, Tommy Davis, Ron Fairly, Roger Craig, Chuck Essegian, and even Joe Pignatano stopped by. And of course I don’t have to tell you who any of them are.
(Pictured: Wally Moon, Carl Erskine, your intrepid blogger, and Doug McIntyre)

How L.A. is L.A.? Roger, a Dodger peanut vendor has an autobiography out.

The gates were open an hour early and fans were able to watch both teams take batting practice. Since the Coliseum was renovated once in last fifty years the dimensions were even more absurd. Only 200 feet to Left field, which is like the length of a stretch Hummer, with a 60 foot screen. So essentially a high pop fly that didn’t come straight down was a home run. The hitters were having a field day. Boston catcher Jason Varitek took one look at the configuration and said, “Final score, Dodgers 85, Red Sox 81.”

Traffic was horrendous. In addition to this event there was a Clippers game (accounting for twelve additional cars) and the Wiggles at the Nokia Center. (I wonder how many fights there were at that show?)

After signing off I made my way up to the press box, which in the spirit of the evening was not behind home plate but way up the right field line. We had a better view of the liquor store robbery on Hoover than the game. But again, that was part of the charm.

I will say this, the pre-game ceremony was spectacular, especially the Vin Scully tribute. Vin was honored for his fifty years of broadcasting Dodger baseball and being the most beloved figure in Los Angeles since Zorro.

The Coliseum may not have had an outfield but it did have Hollywood stars. Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Doris Day, and Bing Crosby were regulars at the ballpark. Today’s equivalent was in attendance – Pamela Anderson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Yankee DH Billy Crystal.

When it was time to “Play Ball” a hundred thousand flash bulbs started popping. Picture Britney Spears getting out of any car. The game itself was utterly ridiculous. The Dodgers didn’t even bother playing a Left fielder. The shortstop handled that. A Red Sox player tried to steal second and was tagged out by the Center fielder. When have you ever seen a 2-8 caught stealing? As expected there were a few cheap homers over the screen. Manny Ramirez didn’t play. Too bad. He could have hit two home runs in the same at bat. I was also disappointed a pitcher didn’t play a ball off the screen.

Boston won 7-4. They should be ashamed of themselves.

I left early, hustling back to the station in time for Dodger Talk. According to the callers everyone had a great time. Even Fred gave the evening an enthusiastic “Yabba dabba doo!”

Congratulations to the Dodgers for organizing and pulling off such an enormous undertaking. It was like staging the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, the Oscars, and the Matthew Levine bar mitzvah all at once.

I hope they don’t wait 50 years to do this again. Do it in 37.

(thanks to Howard Hoffman, Mike McCann, and Jon Weisman for the photos.)

It seemed like a good idea (but not as good as our original idea) at the time.

I talk from time to time about doing the Mary Tyler Moore comeback vehicle, MARY for CBS in 1985. Here is a sample of the pilot script (written by David Isaacs and me). And since you’ll never see the show on the air, even as cable channels grow to the thousands, I figured, it’s either here or nothing.

CBS wanted an updated version of her old show, believing that Mary’s audience would only accept a more mature version of Mary Richards. We listened to them instead of doing our original idea. That was our first mistake.

The premise everyone agreed upon was that Mary, a high class fashion writer found herself unemployed when her magazine folded. She winds up working at a Chicago tabloid, the kind that views the Sun-Times as if it were the NY Times. We tried to put her in a much funkier, edgier arena than WJM. And we tried to give her a love interest. Our inspiration was HIS GIRL FRIDAY. We wanted someone who was handsome, charming, and kept Mary completely off guard. Was he a cad or just pushing her to be better? We hired James Farentino who was GREAT. Here’s the scene where they meet – Mary’s job interview.

**********

INT. FRANK DEMARCO’S OFFICE – DAY

THIS IS THE ONE PLACE THEY DIDN’T CLEAN UP AFTER THE CHICAGO FIRE. FRANK IS SITTING BEHIND HIS DESK, ON THE PHONE, GETTING A HAIRCUT.

ALSO PRESENT IS A TALL, THIN MAN WHO WEARS HEAVY BIFOCAL GLASSES. THIS IS TULLY, THE COPY EDITOR.

MARY ENTERS.

(NOTE: THIS SCENE SHOULD PLAY AT 200 MPH)

FRANK
(INTO PHONE) Of course the cop won’t let you take a picture of the body. You slip him fifty bucks, he turns the other way, you go in and get the shot. Do you want the Pulitzer or not?! (TO MARY) Come on in.

MARY
Did I get you at a bad time?

FRANK
(WITHOUT LOOKING UP) Not at all. (TO BARBER) Keep a little in back. (THEN) Tully, how many S’s in “disappear”?

FRANK HANDS HIM A DUMMY SHEET. TULLY HOLDS THE COPY AT ARM’S LENGTH AND STRAINS TO SEE IT.

TULLY
Where?

FRANK
In the headline!

TULLY
Oh. Three.

FRANK
(TO MARY) Unions. I have to keep a legally blind copy editor. (TO TULLY) There’s two! Should be one. Fix it and print it.

TULLY
Big deal, so I’ll take out an “S”.

FRANK
Out!

TULLY EXITS. FRANK EXTENDS HIS HAND.

FRANK
Frank DeMarco.

MARY
Nice to meet you, Mr. DeMarco.

FRANK
Please…Frank. You got some samples of your work?

SHE OPENS HER ATTACHE CASE, HANDS HIM ONE.

MARY
Yes, well, this article from 1980 won an award from the fashion writers of…

THE PHONE RINGS.

FRANK
Hold on. (INTO PHONE) Yeah…

MARY
…America.

FRANK
(INTO PHONE) What do you mean he won’t take fifty bucks? This is Chicago! All right, for one picture we’ll get him floor seats for a Bulls game.

HE HANGS UP.

MARY
Look, if you’re busy I could…

FRANK
(YELLING) Tully!!

TULLY (O.S.)
Coming!

FRANK
Let’s do it now, Mary. This afternoon it’s gonna get crazed.

TULLY POPS HIS HEAD IN.

FRANK
You know the drawing the Sports Department is having for the Bulls tickets?

TULLY
Yeah.

FRANK
We just got a winner.

TULLY
Who?

FRANK
Me.

TULLY
Right.

TULLY EXITS.

BARBER
Finished.

THE BARBER HOLDS UP THE MIRROR.

FRANK
Well, Mary, what do you think?

MARY
About what?

FRANK
The hair.

MARY
Fine.

FRANK
Mary, if you’re gonna work here you have to have an opinion.

MARY
Am I going to be working here?

FRANK
I don’t think so.

THE BARBER PACKS UP TO LEAVE.

BARBER
See you Friday.

FRANK CHECKS HIS POCKETS.

FRANK
Son of a gun, no change. Mary, you got a buck?

MARY
No.

FRANK
I’m getting no help today, Henry. Catch you next time.

THE BARBER EXITS.

FRANK
Mary, just looking at you I can tell you’re a very talented writer.

MARY
I am.

FRANK
But the thing is, see, I’ve only been here three months. It’s my job to turn this turkey around. And that’s fine ‘cause that’s what I like to do. Storm into town, make a lot of noise, rattle some cages, leave a silver bullet, and move on. Look around you. I don’t need fashion talk. Most of our readers use this paper for clothing.

MARY
Then why did you agree to see me?

FRANK
Because I do have an opening, but I don’t think you’re right for it.

MARY
Oh, what is it?

FRANK
You really wanna know?

MARY
Not really, but I’m here so what the hell!

TULLY POPS HIS HEAD IN.

TULLY
Sorry, Frank, the guy’s already picked up his tickets.

FRANK
Thanks, Tully, you’re a big help.

TULLY
You can’t fire me, you know.

FRANK
Get outta here.

TULLY EXITS.

MARY
You know, Frank, you’re probably right. I don’t think I really fit in. Actually, I just came here as sort of a last resort but there must be resorts even worse I can try.

FRANK
I want to start a consumer “Help Line” column. Readers send in all sorts of problems. Our advocate fights like hell, cuts through the red tape, and we print the best stories.

MARY
That’s the job?

FRANK
Sensation sells papers, Mary. But above all what I want for the Eagle is credibility.

THE PHONE RINGS.

FRANK
(INTO PHONE) Yeah…The cop went for it, huh?… Good. Okay, take the picture and tell him you’ll drop by later with his circus tickets… What? Basketball tickets? Where am I gonna get basketball tickets?

HE HANGS UP. MARY IS STUNNED. SHE CAN’T BELIEVE THIS GUY.

MARY
Well I should be going. I’ve been here… (CHECKING HER WATCH) Whoa! Two whole minutes.

FRANK
Sorry to waste your time. But I doubt if a woman with your background could handle auto mechanics, immigration, city hall –

MARY
(IMMEDIATELY) How do you have any idea what I can or cannot do? You don’t know anything about me. I have faced more than my share of crises with a great deal of poise.

FRANK
Personal crises?

MARY
That’s none of your business. And as far as a car mechanic is concerned, I’d rather face one of them than an irate designer any day. Let me tell you about the time –

THE PHONE RINGS.

MARY
Oh for godsakes…

FRANK
(ON PHONE) Yeah… He doesn’t want me going with the story? Tough! He’s an elected official. As long as he’s got his hand in the till, I’m gonna be on his back.

HE HANGS UP.

MARY
… Let me tell you about the time they wouldn’t let me into a showing at… what elected official?

FRANK
It’s confidential but I’ll open my closet if you’ll open yours.

MARY
No, thank you.

FRANK
I knew I was safe. Now, you were saying?

MARY
I was going to tell you about the time…

FRANK
That’s well and good, Mary, but have you ever read the Post? A lot different style than Woman’s Digest.
MARY
I can write anything. I’ve done all kinds of material… short stories, novellas (PROUDLY) .. rejected by some of the finest publishers in this country!

FRANK
Where do you find the time to write all that?

MARY
Oh, nights.. weekends.

FRANK
Don’t you have a social life?

MARY/FRANK
That’s none of your/my business.

FRANK
Bottom line, Mary, I just don’t think you’re tough enough.

MARY
I am tough enough.
FRANK
Prove it.

THE PHONE RINGS. FRANKS REACHES FOR IT BUT MARY BEATS HIM TO IT. SHE GRABS THE PHONE AND YANKS IT OUT OF THE WALL.

MARY
There!

FRANK
I’ll try ya.

MARY
(STILL DEFENSIVE) It sounds like fun.

FADE OUT. END OF ACT ONE.

I get to interview Duke Snider!

On Saturday night the largest crowd ever to see a baseball game will file into the Los Angeles Coliseum to watch the Dodgers host the Boston Red Sox. 115,000 people are expected. Imagine how many more if the game wasn’t just a meaningless exhibition. But for anyone like me who remembers the Dodgers first coming to LA and playing in this crumbling relic for four years (until Chavez Levine opened) it’s an amazing trip down memory lane.

Not to get too nostalgic but how can you not miss and yearn for a venue…

Where you couldn’t see?

Where the seats were all hard benches?

Where they weren’t allowed to serve beer?

Where there was no parking or public transportation?

Where the dimensions were so wacky they needed to erect a 42-foot screen in left field otherwise you could bunt for a home run?

Where there were no dot races?

To celebrate the Dodgers’ 50th anniversary in Los Angeles, in a stroke of genius they’ve scheduled this one day return to those happier simpler times when Russia was testing nuclear bombs and the U.S. Post Office was banning “Lady Chatterley's Lover” on obscenity grounds.

But talk about a dream come true for a kid who went to games at the Coliseum and idolized these Dodgers, I’ll be hosting a three hour pregame show on 790 KABC where I get to interview them. It’s from 4-7 PDT and I believe KABC is streaming it on the net.

After the game I’ll be hosting Dodger Talk (with my partner Josh Suchon) for my dream audience – 115,000 trapped people trying desperately to get out of the parking lots.

I can’t wait. In fact, if I even remotely hope to get a parking place I better leave now.

Where's Johnny Cash to write a song?

Prison is a horrendous place. Just watch OZ or PRISON BREAK or old episodes of DAVID CASSIDY: MAN UNDERCOVER.

On Monday the Vermont Supreme Court will hear arguments in a class-action suit brought by inmates who are claiming a certain prison practice is cruel and unusual punishment. No, it’s not creating an environment that leads to relentless violence and brutal rape. That the inmates can live with.

But some prisons are serving Nutraloaf at mealtimes and the line of cruelty has to be drawn somewhere. (I can almost see you OZ spec writers racing to your computers.)

Nutraloaf is a prison created dish often given to inmates who are unruly or throw their normal food in the mess hall. Guards got tired of having to clean hand-cut fettuccini pasta with Sonoma lamb Bolognese, Hudson Valley foie gras, and pan-roasted French turbot off the walls. So they were served this meatloaf-like concoction instead.

What’s in Nutraloaf? It’s whole wheat bread, nondairy cheese, raw carrots, spinach, seedless raisin, beans, vegetable oil, tomato paste, powdered milk, and dehydrated potato flakes. You’ll probably see Rachel Ray prepare it next week.

Prison officials argue it’s nutritious (and to prove it, “Nutra” is right in its name) and easier to clean (the yardstick for all fine food).

I’m sure, like me, you will be anxious to hear how this plays out. Depending on the ruling, Spam and KFC Meals-in-a-Bowl could be next.

My one piece of advice to the Defense attorneys – do not let the judge or jury eat the evidence.

Gallagher es muy mala!

Oh no!! Gallagher is back touring!

Maybe the unfunniest comedian in the history of show business is on the comeback trail, smashing watermelons in a town near you. He performed a show in nearby Cerritos in 1999 that resulted in a review so scathing and hilarious I had to keep it. If you can imagine the thinking that could have produced such a staggeringly ill-conceived show, you laugh twice as hard.

And so, as a public service to anyone even thinking of attending an upcoming Gallagher show, here is this LA Times review.

CROSSED-UP CROSSOVER

Comedy: Promoted for Latinos, Gallagher's pseudo-Spanish show is a litany of degrading stereotypes and insults.

By ALISA VALDES-RODRIGUEZ, Times Staff Writer


Hmm. How to put this delicately? We'll simplify: Mime-like, stringy-haired man in black hat smashes food with mallet on stage for living. Man, who no espeakey no Spanish, hears Spanish, thinks Spanish good, Spanish muy muy dinero. Man spends one month learning important Spanish words such as cerveza, caca and culo (butt). Man invents Spanish words, such as "sperm-o" and "embarazamante." Man decides this is enough Spanish to put on show for Latinos. Man smashes pinatas, wears giant sombrero and shakes keg-sized maracas. Man mocks Jews and gays and women and constipated old people. Man thinks he is muy funny comedian-o.

Man hopes all Spanish-speakers agree.
But wait. There's more. Mucho more.

Man rents hall in Cerritos. Man advertises "Gallagher en espanol: La Fiesta Grande" on Spanish radio. Man hopes thousands will come. Two hundred come, many with children and babies and old (possibly constipated) people. Man babbles for three hours Thursday night in "language" neither English nor Spanish. Language heretofore known as Gallagher-bonics. Next day, executive director of Cerritos Center for Performing Arts issues statement stressing that "Gallagher show was a rental event and not produced or presented by the Cerritos Center."

Man hires dance troupe to open show. Man performing for mostly Mexican American audience. Dance troupe, called Salsa Kids, performs Puerto Rican dance style. Male dancers wear guayaveras, the four-pocket shirts worn by old Cuban men in Miami. Mexican American audience appears unimpressed. Stone faces say: Ugh, bad medicine. "Is this like ballroom?" a woman in the audience asks. "My sister, she's taking that ballroom dancing."

Show goes on.

First nine rows of audience are in white plastic chairs. People in white plastic chairs equipped with clear plastic bag to wear over clothes because later mayonnaise and refried beans will spew over them. Signs warn: Cuidado, Piso Resbaloso. Wet floor. Man shoots water on audience from giant penguin after salsa dancers leave stage.

Other man named Vic Dunlop, a comedian hired to help because he supposedly speaks Espanol, takes stage. Dunlop wears Mexican blanket, sombrero and glasses with eyes painted on them. Makes jokes about black people and blind people in bad Spanish. Says show is sponsored by Culo Cola, the soda with the taste of an expletive. In audience, Debra Garcia, 50, is bored and thinks the show immature and plans to leave early.

Man appears with penguin and yells, "Como? Este hombre no esta en mi show. Vamanos."

Second assistant "comedian" who actually does speak Spanish comes on stage. Her name is Dyana Ortelli and she is Mexican American and makes a living mocking Jennifer Lopez's bottom, stereotyping Chicanos, and wearing bad wig and no pants. Ortelli helps man throw chocolate at crowd. Man says: "Quien no tengo chocolate?" Translation: Who I don't have chocolate? No one sure what he is saying.

Man introduces Chupacabras. Chupacabras is goat-sucking monster seen in Puerto Rico three years ago. Man in ape suit pretends to be goat-sucking monster. Man forces child onto stage with monster. Man asks: "Quien tiene mas pelo de Chupacabra?" Translation: Who has more hair of Chupacabras? Child makes disgusted face, jumps off stage. Ortelli looks sad. Man babbles about goat-sucker: "Es muy fuerze, es muy fuerza." Translation: Is very strength. No one laughs. Man frustrated. Tries to say "espectaculo," which means "show," but says "specta-culo," which sort of means butt-gazer.

Man calls for rock band. Fulano de Tal, from Miami, plays well. Man wears giant parachute dress and dances. Man spray-paints a lie on the back wall: Yo No Soy Gringo. Man says in Spanish that he is a cowboy. Man says he is newborn Mexican and caresses his naked hairy belly.

Man tells joke about bear and rabbit pooping.

Man gathers audience volunteers for Mexican hat dance. Says "Tengo un muchacha" over and over. No one laughs. Man says "Culo, culito" until people laugh. Man says "moco" for extra humor. Man is tired of trying. Man says in English "I need a beer." Man curses under breath off mike, but audience hears anyway.

Man begins dumping buckets of food onto plates. Man stops trying to speak Spanish. Man gives up and speaks English. Man says: "We were expecting a big crowd tonight and we're going to do a show for a big crowd anyway" because the crowd is small and shrinking. Man is booed again. Man yells: "It's the Fourth of July weekend, you don't got no place to go so just shut up." Man hits Pop Tarts with tennis racquet. Man says "Un muchacho quiero comer," which means "I want to eat a boy" and the boys look scared.

Many people who paid between $21.50 and $26.50 per ticket walk out as man flashes white underpants and yells culo, culo, culo and cerveza. Man angry Latinos have no sense of humor. Man throws egg and marshmallows at old woman and baby as they waddle out of theater. Man calls old woman vulgar name in English. Man spits beer on children. Some in audience too polite to leave. Others impolite enough to boo. One courageous enough to hurl a lunchbox-sized chunk of watermelon at man's head.

Man smashes food with 16-pound mallet. Man says, inexplicably, "Todo el mouthwash el hits me en el crotch-o." Man sings "La Cucaracha."

Man smashes more food. Show over. Man bows. Man slips on floor.

AMERICAN IDOL: Top 10

Oh no! All those homely baby pictures and overly precious home videos of dorky kids with teeth missing – this week AMERICAN IDOL was like attending the Bar Mitzvah reception from hell.

“Flattering” was not the look of the night.

Host Ryan Seacrest sported a large frontal cowlick, a tribute to the King of Cool – Ed Grimley. And Paula graced us with long black leather gloves and a shimmering prom dress, perfect for a night on the town with Client 9.

Shameless Fox had the stars of ‘TIL DEATH in the front row. Next week Hannity & Combs will be whooping it up in the mosh pit.

The theme this week was music from the year the contestants were born. My daughter Annie said, “Does that mean David Archuleta is going to sing something from 2001?”

Ramile Mulubay got things off to a rousing thud with “Alone”. Her screeching caused garage doors to go up all over America. Ramile’s excuse was that she was sick. Can I offer an alternate explanation? She’s just not that good.

Jason Castro, the sweet sensitive girl in pants sang some song called “Fragile”. I don’t know where she got it. I also don’t know where she got the Ecstasy but she should not take it before the show.

Syesha Mercade must have been born in 1971 because she sang Gladys Knight’s “If I Were Your Woman”. Although when Gladys sang it there was a melody. Paula could have used a better choice of words than to call Syesha the “Dark Horse” of the competition.

Every ballad Chikezie sings sounds like “Aladdin” so what difference does it make what he picked? He’ll be telling you to remove your shoes and put your laptop in a separate bin within the week.

Brooke White went back to what works – sitting like a lox at the piano. She has a knack for being able to screw up and still have it come off endearing. This week she had a little stutter at the beginning of her song (“Every Breath You Take”) but she recovered with poise and it was a moment that reminded us the show is live and unexpected things can happen. I wish more would. Like wouldn’t it be kinda fun if someone’s mic cut out for a second or the entire set collapsed?

Michael Johns returned to the Queen card, as he always does. Great performance but I worry when it’s Dolly Parton night that the Freddy Mercury interpretation of “9 to 5” is just not going to work.

When they were showing Carly Smithson’s adorable baby videos I wish I could have seen her at age three getting her first tattoo. She sang “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and she’s a good singer, there’s no question – but I dunno, she just seems like the Hillary Clinton of the group. It’s so clear that everything Carly does is designed solely to WIN!!! I’m waiting for her to say she didn't have sufficient rehearsal time because she was under sniper fire.

Pictured: Hillary singing "This is why I'm Hot" on the results show.

What the hell was David Archuleta singing? “You’re the Voice”? There are not enough recognizable songs from 2001? But I guess that’s what happens when you’re so busy stalking Kelly Clarkson that you have no time to listen to the radio.

Kristy Lee Cook followed with the most blatant example of pandering I’ve ever seen. She sang “God Bless the USA”. Yeah, America’s going to vote her off singing that. I bet Carly is pissed she didn’t think of it. Next week expect her to come out wearing nothing but the American flag singing the Star Spangled Banner while showing off her new tattoo – the Declaration of Independence which will cover her left arm.

The best performance of the night was the last – David Cook doing a killer version of “Billie Jean”. Only thing is – the judges fawned all over him for his originality when in fact he was just mimicking the cover by Chris Cornell. It’s one thing for the audience to not know, but these judges are supposed to be in the goddamn music business! Simon, there are more recording artists than just Whitney Houston and the Teletubbies.

All in all, it was a better show than last week’s character assassination of the Beatles but still, more accurate than “songs from the year you were born” the theme should have been called “songs from the year you were bored”.

Where can I get a good Screaming O Honey Vibrating Enhancer?

Who needs books? If you go to Amazon.com and search for “Adult Products” or “Adult Gifts” you’ll find they have some delightful items. Note: these are all real. I’m not making any of them up. I’m not that creative.

The Screaming O Honey Vibrating Enhancer

The Screaming O Vibrating Waterproof Octopus Massager (marked down from $19.99 to $9.99 so jump on it.)

Jingle Jugs Animatronic Singing Dancing Boobs

California Exotics / Swedish Erotica Crotchless Fluttering Butterfly G-String

Nearly Me Gaff (which appears to be male underwear with the sock built in)

Deluxe Ben Wa Balls Silver Kegel Exerciser (Yeah, take that to the gym)

French Wrestling DVD (Do both contestants give up? I'm just askin'.)

Brown Beaded Pocket Pal Erection Aid (No fanny pack or purse should be without one)

Adult Play Pail – Romantic Gift Set Contains: strawberry whipped crème, Hot Stuff warming oil, pina colada one oz. Container of wild fruit body dust, two bottles of cinnamon AfterHours massage oil, one bottle of cherry kissing potion, banana body drops, scented candle, and exotic feather.

Naughty Candy Assortment Gift Box (And you thought Big Hunks were sexy)

Boyfriend Body Pillow (I bet it still doesn’t cuddle)

Black Furry Metal Handcuffs Bachelorette Party Wedding Gift (Check out which store she’s registered at first)

Prisoner of Love Gift Basket (Perfect anniversary gift for the gal who has the Black Furry Metal Handcuffs)

Wireless Male Ring Erection Aid Purple (It’s gotta be purple. No one would be caught dead with a green one.)

Centerfold Pinup Sticker

Sexy Sticker Set-Cell Phone Stickers

Humorous Adult Sucks Laser Italian Charm

Tiny Tins Spoons Game (Don’t know what that’s for but maybe it appeals to the guy who needs the Nearly Me Gaff item.)

Fart-O-Meter Adult Costume

The 2007-2012 World Outlook for Adult Incontinence Products. (If you didn’t have trouble holding it before, you will when you see the price: $795.00.)

Hungarian Wrestling, Vol. I DVD (I hope it features the death match between the Great Orsolya and the Queen of Mean – Zsuzsanna.)

Tongue Dinger Personal Massager – Purple (Clearly that’s the in color this year.

Adult Mask

2-Piece Set: Spiderweb Lace Tie Top with Shorts (black, so it’s ideal for formal occasions or funerals.)

Adult Fantasy Baby Bouquet (I can’t even imagine!)

Protection Plus Disposable Adult Pull Ups -- Options: Size Large 40” – 56” with Overnight Protection (and I don’t think they’re talking about delivery guarantee.)

And finally....

James Earl Jones Reads the Bible – Audio CD

Filling in for Wolfman Jack

It’s fun to be back on the radio hosting Dodger Talk on KABC. It’s a far cry from my weirdest radio gig.

I once filled in for Wolfman Jack on XERB.

If you’ve seen AMERICAN GRAFFITTI you know who Wolfman Jack is (or, more accurately now – was). He was this Jewish guy, Bob Smith, who had a macabre piercing voice and a yen to be in radio. He got a job at a Mexican station right across the Texas border – XERF. Since Mexico did not have strict laws restricting how much power you could use, XERF beamed four million watts right up into the US at night. You could hear it as far north as Mars. Smith adopted the name Wolfman Jack, played R&B, rock, and blues, sold advertising to fly-by-night concerns, and built a name for himself.

At one point the Mexican government tried to take back the station and there was an actual gun battle as Jack and the staff held down the fort. Picture the Alamo except Davy Crockett wins and they play Screaming Jay Hawkins records.

After a couple of years Jack moved out west and did the same schtick on XERB, out of Tijuana. The entire west coast at night was blanketed by their unrestricted signal. Among the Wolf’s many listeners was George Lucas in Central California and obviously it made an impression. (I wonder if Darth Vader was spinning country hits on the station across town.)

Jack’s following grew. He opened a restaurant on Melrose in East Hollywood that served “Beef Bagaloos” – the greasiest nastiest taquito type abominations you could imagine. GRAFFITTI premiered in 1973 and a few years later he left Mexican radio for more legit stations, syndication, and a TV gig on THE MIDNIGHT SPECIAL. Ironically, his first US station was WNBC, New York. He went from dealing with the Mexican Federales to the more dangerous corporate suits of the National Broadcasting Company.

But back in ’75 he was still on XERB. At the time I was writing spec scripts with my partner, David Isaacs and teaching at a rip-off broadcasting school to pay the rent (“This week I’m going to teach you all how to give weather reports. Take notes because this is really tricky stuff.”) Out of the blue I get a call from the program director of XERB. He needed someone to fill in for the Wolfman for two weeks and was a fan of my questionable act. I was using the airname “Beaver Cleaver” during that period of my failing career, which he thought was perfect. I asked if I had to go down to Tijuana to do the show and would I be paid in dollars, pesos, or hookers? He said they had studios in Hollywood and would pay me US dollars but not enough to get a decent hooker. I was in.

Their studios were two rooms over the Hollywood bowling alley, not too far from the Pussycat adult theatre, and lounge that featured nude female mud wrestling. (Jack left THIS for 30 Rockefeller Plaza??) I would go in at 6 in the morning and record my six hour show on equipment that had been built when the Kaiser ruled Germany. My sponsors were “Mr. Satisfy” (sugar pills designed to maintain an erection -- they didn’t work), and mail order oldies record packages (“For the cost of just one carton of cigarettes you get these 100 great hits like Papa Ooo Mow Mow by the Rivingtons!”).

When I finished taping my show I would pack the reels into a metal box, drive it over to the Hollywood Greyhound bus station, slip the clerk a fiver, and he would put it on the bus to San Diego. An hombre from the station would meet the bus, hide the box in his car, drive back over the border, and at 9 p.m. I was on the air.

It was a wacky but really fun experience. Anytime I see AMERICAN GRAFFITTI I think about it. Also when I watch TRAFFIC.

Have mercy, baby!

Sad postscript:

Another radio legend has passed. Jackson Armstrong, only 62. In an era of high energy personality radio, no one sounded better, had more fun, or talked faster than "Big Jack, your leeeeeeeeaderrrr!" He bounced around the country with stops in Charlotte, Cleveland, Hartford, Denver, Buffalo, Boston, Toronto, Fresno, Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, San Francisco, Greensboro, and Los Angeles where I worked with him at TenQ. As great as he was on the air he was even greater as a person. And his passion was infectious.

He is survived by his loving family and "the gorilla".

When to STOP writing

Sitting down to start writing each day is tough. And so is knowing when to stop. If the two events are usually within fifteen minutes of each other pick another profession. But if you’re really putting in the hours, and there’s no foreman telling you when quitting time is, when is quitting time?

Some screenwriters go by number of pages. Others set a time limit. One I know eats chocolate covered coffee beans all day and when his hand starts to shake that’s the time to wrap it up. There’s no right answer, except maybe the last one.

A lot of writers will hang in there until they finish a scene. They like that sense of closure. There is something to be said for that peace of mind. Especially if you’re neurotic and from what I hear, one or two writers are.

On the other hand, I like to stop when I get stuck. It’s usually in the middle of a scene. (Ernest Hemingway used to stop in the middle of a sentence. I always wondered if he wrote a suicide note that read: “I’m sorry, I just can’t go…”)

Instead of gutting it out, I will walk away from the computer and just let my subconscious mind work on solving the problem. I know that sounds very “Yanni” but for me, a relaxed state is when I do my best thinking. I’ll keep a notepad by the bed and in the morning just lie there like a slug and let my mind run free. Very often the answer will come. Similarly, the shower is a good place to problem solve, and one of the few shower activities you can admit to.

The added benefit of allowing yourself the night and morning to break through your problem is that when you sit down to start writing again you’ll already have a head start. You won’t have to face the “tyranny of the blank page.”

Writing is rewarding but never easy. We resist starting and constantly fight the temptation to stop. Kurt Vonnegut talked of the difficulty. He said whenever he’s in a room with writers they’ll all be bitching about how hard the process is. All except one. He’ll say it’s a breeze. Every day it just flows. Invariably HE’S the worst writer in the room.

My favorite schlocky movie

A number of you have asked what is my favorite schlocky movie? That would have to be the Roger Corman 1975 masterpiece, DEATH RACE 2000. It's your typical low budget exploitation science fiction apocalyptic violent cross country auto race romp. The tagline:

IN THE YEAR 2000 HIT AND RUN DRIVING IS NO LONGER A FELONY. IT'S A NATIONAL SPORT!

I have to love a movie where the Real Don Steele's name is on the one-sheet but Sylvester Stallone's is not. (The above poster hangs in my office.)

The delightful confection of a story is that there is a cross country race in modified Batmobiles and the drivers get additional points for running down pedestrians. (Hey, don't laugh. It's still a better premise than the last RAMBO.)

Here is a sample.

Warning: Not for the squeamish -- and by that I mean anyone who can't bear to watch really bad cheesy special effects.

Fragments or smaller...

I’m going to need therapy for Separation Anxiety when IN TREATMENT goes off the air. And I know I’m a bad person but I still hate Sophie. Just once wouldn’t you love to see a scene where a psychiatrist says to a teenage patient, “the problem isn’t your parents or the environment. It’s that you’re a fucking Emo bitch!!”?

So AMERICAN IDOL announced their mentors for this season. Mariah Carey will instruct the kids on proper diet techniques, plastic surgery options, how to marry the best Svengali, and preferred diva bad behavior. And I’m sorry Amanda Overmyre was voted off before she could sing one of mentor Andrew Lloyd Weber’s tunes on “Plagiarism Week”.

Miley Cyrus gets immortalized in wax at Madame Tussauds in New York this week. And speaking of wax figures, Dolly Parton will be another AMERICAN IDOL mentor.

The baseball players union is looking into possible collusion charges to explain why Barry Bonds -- under indictment by the Grand Jury, universally loathed, now old, and too big to fit into any uniform – hasn’t been signed to a big deal by a major league team. Collusion charges are also being investigated regarding the non-signing of F.P. Santangelo and Stan Musial.

LOST this season has been phenomenal! Every episode has had a mind-blowing ending. Especially last week's with Sun & Jin. And I keep watching the flash-forwards hoping to see if gas prices ever go down.

Career goal I can strike off my list: TV game show panelist/personality. But the dream is still alive to become a Mouseketeer.

ABC will carry the presidential debate on April 15th. Judges determining the winner will be Len Goodman, Carrie Ann Inaba, and Bruno Tonioli.

The opening weekend of March Madness – the only orgy your wife will let you attend.

I hate myself for laughing but KLAC sportstalk host Big Joe McDonnell said this about the Paul McCartney-Heather Mills divorce settlement: she made a lot of money for spreading her leg.