Don't forget Neil Simon

A few years ago at the Daily Grill in Brentwood I was waiting at the valet for my car and there was Neil Simon waiting for his (a nicer one by the way). I mentioned to my kids, who were quite young then, that Mr. Simon was one of greatest writers in America and my son said, “Then how come we’ve never of him?” I laughed of course. Everyone knew who he was. Then.

But now I wonder: how many people today do know who he is? From the 60s through the end of the centry Neil Simon was the king. Name me a comedy writer who got his name above the title of any play or movie he wrote. Or a screenwriter who the studios and directors were forbidden to rewrite. You’ve got to be pretty good and pretty successful to achieve that kind of clout. For God sakes, the man has a Broadway theatre named after him.

Today Neil is in his advancing years and his output of material has slowed considerably. Thus it’s quite conceivable that many young people don’t know who Neil Simon is.

So for young writers hoping to break in and just fans of mirth in general, I say don’t forget Neil Simon. Yes, he’s from another era. And I can’t imagine him ever writing SUPERBAD or FAMILY GUY. But any serious student of comedy will find much to learn (and enjoy) from studying the work of Neil Simon.

His jokes are all so well-crafted and all come out of character. Just once in my life I’d like to write a joke this good: From THE ODD COUPLE when slovenly Oscar confronts fastidious Felix –

“I can't take it anymore, Felix, I'm cracking up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you're not here, the things I know you're gonna do when you come in irritate me. You leave me little notes on my pillow. Told you 158 times I can't stand little notes on my pillow. "We're all out of cornflakes. F.U." Took me three hours to figure out F.U. was Felix Ungar!”

There are two soft-cover collections of Neil Simon plays. Even though they may seem dated (since they are from the ancient 60s when dinosaurs still roamed the earth ), check out the early ones. BAREFOOT IN THE PARK, COME BLOW YOUR HORN (his first play), and the incomparable ODD COUPLE. Notice the rhythm, the pace, how each joke moves the story forward, and how each joke just seamlessly flows into the next.

His later work adds drama and depth and of those plays I would suggest BILOXI BLUES, LOST IN YONKERS, and THE SUNSHINE BOYS but there are two or three others you might like even better. He doesn’t get the credit he deserves for his more serious work but hey, that’s the cross all of us yuckmeisters have to bear.

And again, read the plays. Sometimes the movies don’t do the properties justice. Obviously, aspiring scribes should inhale every script of COMMUNITY and 30 ROCK and MODERN FAMILY that they can find, but also add some Neil Simon. There’s pearls to glean from a guy who can write…

Oscar Madison: I know him. He'll kill himself just to spite me. Then his ghost will come back, following me around the apartment, haunting and cleaning, haunting and cleaning, haunting and cleaning...

I had a bizarre dream last night

I was at some party and bumped into Allan Burns, one of the co-creators of THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW. It was the final year of the show (in my dream). I asked if David and I could write one of the last episodes. Our dream had always been to write a MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW. He was thrilled we wanted to do one. I guess in the altered world of my dream we had a track record (or I just have the world’s most inflated ego).

Now we flash to the filming of our show. David and I are on the floor. That’s the beauty of dreams – you can skip the actual “writing” part. In INCEPTION everyone dreams elaborate action sequences and fantastical adventures. I dream filming nights.

The episode we came up with, I have to say, was pretty damn good. Someone filed a sexual harassment suit against Murray. So to prove his innocence he came out of the closet. This set up some fun reactions from his co-workers. Mary couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe she sat right next to a person for years and couldn’t detect that he was gay. Lou was unfazed. He knew it all along. Ted started asking Murray questions about what it was like. Too many questions and way too detailed to just be out of curiosity. Sue Ann came in and said something so offensive I can’t even repeat it but it did get a big laugh and clearly there were no CBS censors in my dream world.

What struck me afterwards was this: how different the storytelling is in sitcoms now as opposed to back then. No, this isn’t one of those “back in MY day we knew how to tell a story. Not like these young pissants today” rants. Just an observation. Comedies today are much faster paced. They’re usually jammed with story. Quick scenes, multiple plots. Or in the case of BIG BANG THEORY – just a barrage of jokes.

Storytelling in the 70s and 80s was generally a little more leisurely. I say “generally” because MASH was just as fast paced as today’s shows (or faster) and maybe that’s one reason why it still holds up so well.

But as a rule series used to be constructed differently. You’d have a collection of colorful characters that all had very disparate points of view. You would toss some issue into the middle of the room and watch as they all had their takes and interacted with each other. You allowed room for the characters to breathe, to just have discussions. The downside was the stories moved slower but the upside was you got to really learn more about these characters. And hopefully you would make a connection and start to truly care about them. So their plight in stories took on an added importance.

Now that’s great when it works. When it doesn’t you’re left with a boring half hour where nothing happens and nothing’s funny. Even that the industry got away with for awhile, renaming them “dramedies”.

Anyway, that was my dream. And it was a refreshing change-of-pace. Usually when I dream about Mary Tyler Moore she has big fangs and is trying to run me over with the car from DEATH RACE 2000.

Lindsay Lohan describes her time in prison

There was an Academy Award winning documentary in the late 70s called SCARED STRAIGHT. Juvenile delinquents who were “too cool for school” received lectures from prison lifers on what it was really like in the joint. Needless to say, they scared the shit out of these cocky little guttersnipes.

As a public service (and you know me – always a giver) I would like to do an updated version. I know a lot of gang members and assorted bad ass motherfuckers read this blog (they especially like my Tony Award reviews) so it’s the perfect forum.

Please welcome my guest blogger, prison inmate Lindsay Lohan!

Thanks, Ken. So listen you guys, prison is oh-my-God like such a nightmare. Okay. First. You have to wear their clothes. And it’s not like they buy them new for everyone like they should if they had any decency. So you’re wearing overalls worn by God knows who? Hygiene is not a priority among these skanks, let me tell you. And by the way they’re ugly. The clothes, not the skanks… although, yeah, the skanks too. If you’re trailer trash but pretty you can always have a good career in porn but these mutts have nothing left but to rob the people better looking than they are. It’s pathetic!

But everybody wears the same thing. Whoever shops for them they should like add on another twenty years. And it’s one thing to wear a uniform if you’re like “Hi, I work at McDonalds and have no future and am not pretty enough for porn” but what if you’re not? What if you’re planning to get a job as a big executive when you get out of prison? Or even star in a reality show? What does it do to your confidence? I mean, just take a look at those losers in the yard. They’re all just such… downers. And for what? You think any of them would be less sorry they stabbed your mother if they got to wear a cute halter top and khaki shorts? I’m telling you, this is the kind of torture they subject you to 24/7.

Oh, and it’s worse. If someone comes to visit you, you STILL have to wear those clothes. I mean, come on! I didn’t kill anybody. And even if I did, that means I have to wear orange?

Now for the privacy. There isn’t any. None. You can’t do your nails without some bitch asking what star you’ve fucked. If I didn’t know better I’d say that being in jail is like being in a cage. As for your room – okay, picture like a dressing room when you’re on location and it’s small and no one even thinks to get you a variety of Snapple. And they’re all “oh, it’s an indie film and I had to mortgage my house” and you’re like, “yeah but how is that my problem? I didn’t tell you to do it.” Waa waa. So it’s like that. Small. No bedspead. No private shower. That’s a whole other trauma. I mean it’s one thing to be naked in magazines. That’s for money. There’s dignity in that. But washing yourself in front of other women, that’s just dirty.

And here’s the worst. I need a moment here. I get choked up just thinking about it. Okay. Okay. They won’t let you text. I know! It’s inhuman! Can you imagine? It’s like you’re completely cut off from your staff. If they’re going to make us check in our cellphones why not just make us check in our thumbs?

Bottom line is you guys, I’ll be scarred for life. I hope this doesn’t drive me to drink. But if it does it’s all on their head – heads? – no, head – maybe heads – I dunno. All of that rehab for nothing because of them! All I can say is that every day in prison felt like a year, so do the math. I was in there for thirteen long years, people. Bottom bottom line -- don’t let what happened to me happen to you.

Get better lawyers.

Thank you, Lindsay.

What do you think? Was I scary?

Ohhhh yeah.

I miss TV theme songs

Yesterday's post was just a tease.

There was an meme going around asking us bloggermeisters to list our favorite TV theme songs. And that got me thinking – I MISS TV THEME SONGS. I wrote about this before but the condition still exists so I'm writing about it again.

Networks today, so deathly afraid of tune out, have all but eliminated theme songs and opening credits. They go by so fast you can’t tell the difference between opening titles and vanity production cards. And I think it does a disservice to the shows and the viewers. A good opening title sequence can really set the tone for the show. CHEERS wasn’t just a bar, it was the place where everyone knows your name. If it premiered today you’d see the logo, an animated glass of beer being filled, and ten seconds of “Sweet Caroline”.

It would be a little hard to sell that the Monkees were this goofy playful rock band if the extent of their theme was “Hey hey, we’re the Monkees!” America would be saying “Hey hey, so what?”

Networks complain that sitcoms are all the same then take away their signature feature.

And here’s what they don’t understand -- a good theme and opening title sequence ATTRACTS viewers. Some people tune in specifically because they LIKE the title sequence. That was me with the Drew Carey “Cleveland Rocks” opening. If only the show was that good.

An added benefit in this day of synergy and cross promotion is that they can become hit records on their own. (WELCOME BACK KOTTER, MISSION IMPOSSIBLE, HAWAII 5-0) Think of all the free three minute plugs your show will get when KIIS-FM is playing the shit out of your theme. (I’m not being local here. Every city in America, Canada, Australia, and Yemen has a KIIS-FM).

These themes can become part of pop culture. I bet more Americans know the words to GILLIGAN’S ISLAND than the Star Spangled Banner. Hell, more people can sing the lyrics to CHARLES IN CHARGE. These ditties are burned into our brains. When we’re 90 and can’t remember if we put our pants on we’ll still be able to sing the MASH theme and the JEFFERSONS.

And ultimately here’s what we’re talking about – twenty more seconds. That’s all. Twenty more seconds. Maybe thirty. God forbid thirty-five. The same amount of time it takes to run a promo for WIPE OUT. What would YOU rather watch?

****

Okay, so in no particular order – my ten favorite TV themes.

MASH
PETER GUNN
CHEERS
WELCOME BACK KOTTER
DICK VAN DYKE SHOW
MIAMI VICE
DREW CAREY SHOW
MR. LUCKY
MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW
TOP CAT

One final thought, if you have opening titles then maybe the credits won’t extend so far into the show. Considering how large some of these casts and staffs are it’s not inconceivable that someday on a comedy credits will roll all the way through the tag.

Hawaii 5 0 -- then, now, and the one that didn't sell

CBS premieres a new version of HAWAII 5-0 this fall. Unlike most shows today, this one will have opening titles (albeit shorter) and a new version of the familiar Ventures stirring theme. You can preview it here. But first, the original 60s version and a rare version from a 1998 pilot that didn't sell.

Which do you like best?

"Even the school mascot has a gun"

I grew up in Woodland Hills, a middle class suburb of the San Fernando Valley. We were right next to Canoga Park. There was a big difference. Don't know who made this but it's hilarious. And boy does it bring back cherished memories. You'll excuse me if I get a little misty. I'm a but overwhelmed by nostalgia.

Who do we see as Queen Elizabeth? Eliza Dunshku.

After Thursday’s Friday questions, here are Friday’s Friday questions. These have to do the dynamics of my partnership with David Isaacs. Who knew? An actual “theme”.

Jonathan leads off:

Do you write with an actor's/character's voice in mind, or is that something that emerges in rehearsal/shooting and is more a product of the actor and director?

We generally do try to imagine a certain actor in a role even if we know we can’t get him. But that way we both hear the same voice in our heads. Example: Any woman’s part -- Eliza Dushku.

Often times though we won’t imagine an actor per se. We’ll imagine friends or just distinctive people we know. That’s sometimes better because we’ll also have mannerisms to draw from. Do whatever you can to make your characters more specific.

I can’t tell you how many times we’ve absolutely lifted character traits from somebody (sometimes not flattering) and they’ll see the show and say, “Y’know, I know people just like that.”

just some guy trying to write has just some question.

Can you talk more about the specifics of the business relationship between you and your writing partner? Stuff like, if you write and sell a script on your own, do you share in the profits with him?

We divide it this way: I make 80%, David makes 20% but David has to do all of the work.

Seriously, we split everything we do together right down the middle. Always. There are times when we have to cover for each other, if one of us is sick and there’s a deadline, that sort of thing. But we never adjust the ratio because one of us did more on a particular project.

As for our business relationship, our partnership is structured on a handshake.

Generally when we write a script we do it together in the same room. But early on in our career we would take one assignment a season and split it up. I would write one act on my own and David would write the other. We’d then assemble them and polish the script together. We did this exercise so each of us could feel comfortable writing on our own if we had to. We are a partnership out of choice, not dependency. And by the way, if you read the two acts we wrote separately, you'd never be able to tell who wrote which act. It's not like one of us is the structure guy and the other is the funny boots. Our styles and sensibilities are amazingly similar.

Regarding outside projects, we don’t try to bind ourselves in the partnership. We allow each other the freedom to explore other pursuits. For me it was directing and of course baseball announcing. For David it was mercenary work in the world’s hotspots. Here he is in his other life:

And finally, Joe Pontillo wonders:

Does David Isaacs have a blog? And if not, why don't we ever hear from him in guest posts on this blog?

He doesn’t have a blog. Or if he does he has really low traffic. From time to time I do ask David to contribute a piece.

At the moment David is teaching at USC and writing a book, which for reasons that seem unfathomable to me, he seems to feel take precedence.

What’s your question? Again, I’ll try to add some extra question days to catch up on them all. Gracious much.

What do I think of HOT IN CLEVELAND and other questions?

I’m falling behind on questions so am tossing in a few extra days this summer to catch up.

Max Clarke gets us started:

Ken, what was the first time you got paid for writing something?

In 1969 I was hired by KMPC radio to write sportscasts. They weren’t very funny, but then again they were paying minimum wage. I once got in trouble during a college football scoreboard report for writing “Texas A&M puffed Rice” and “Oklahoma beat the Jesus out of Oral Roberts”. The sports director was not amused.

I did get a chance to write comedy material for Gary Owens who was on the station at the time. He offered to pay me but I refused. Having him as a mentor and letting me go on the air to perform the material myself from time to time was payment enough.

In the early 70s I sold some jokes to Joan Rivers for $5.00. Don’t know if she ever used them. For all I know she’s still using them. By the way, there’s a documentary about her called PIECE OF WORK that’s out in some markets that is terrific.

Anonymous (please leave your name) wants to know:

Why don't more TV writers write comic novels? The only one that pops into my head is SHEILA LEVINE IS DEAD AND LIVING IN NEW YORK by Gail Parent, many years ago. I'm sure there are others but why so rare?

Simple. They’re almost impossible to sell. For whatever reason publishers consider comic novels death. You can get away with it in chick lit sometimes but by and large editors would rather get Anthrax in the mail than comic manuscripts.

I suppose if you’re Dave Barry you could sell one so I would change my name to Dave Barry.

When I read John Kennedy Toole’s masterpiece, THE CONFEDERACY OF DUNCES (a book that was rejected by every editor in New York, drove the author to suicide, and posthumously won the Pulitzer ), I was inspired to try writing a comic novel myself.

I got about two hundred pages in when I made the mistake of going back and fixing things. It became the chair with one leg always shorter. I got the job at CHEERS and happily put the project down.

A few years ago I stumbled upon the unfinished manuscript and started reading it. God, it was awful. I had absolutely no idea where the story was going or even where I thought it was going at the time. Usually something will jog your memory – a plot turn, a scene, an obvious set up. Nope. Nothing. It’s as if someone else wrote it. I wish someone else had.

No, I’m not going to share chapters.

From Dudleys Mom:

I don't think you've talked about "Hot in Cleveland". What do you think about that show, Ken?

It’s very well done. I adore Jane Leeves and Wendie Malick. And that old lady who plays the caretaker? Wow. She’s a real find!

And finally, this Anonymous question:

What are the non-writing producers who aren't the line producer doing on the show?

They’re giving notes, drawing a fat salary, and taking a piece of the back end profits leaving the writing producers to do all the real work and put in all the long hours. They go to Laker games while the staff stays up till 4 fixing the script. It’s hard to believe that for fifty years talented writers could actually make hit shows without them.

Tomorrow: some questions delving into our partnership. What do you want to know?

Paula Abdul may be returning to AMERICAN IDOL

That's right, the Sarah Palin of reality television might be returning. That's the latest internet rumor. And you KNOW, if you hear about it on the internet it has to be true. What do you think about that? To help you decide, here's one of Paula's finest moments.

One of the great scams of all-time

Continuing from yesterday, while furiously writing spec scripts at night with David, I got a day job at the KiiS Broadcasting Workshop – training young people to enter the exciting and stable world of radio.

Today it would probably be called the KiiS Podcast Workshop.

They did have a great gimmick however. The owner went to KiiS radio, a floundering AM station, and offered a partnership. The station would get a cut of the action. The school could use their name, would base their operation in the same location as the station, and this was the genius stroke – the school would operate the radio station from 2-4 every morning (when no one was listening… although no one listened at any hour). The students would actually get to go on the air in Los Angeles. That’s like letting DeVry students run the control tower computers at LAX for two hours a day.

The only trouble was, none of the vaunted faculty members wanted to work from 2-4 in the morning; certainly not for the scraps we were getting paid. So save for the on-duty engineer asleep in the control room, these students were pretty much on the air unsupervised.

We were located in the Playboy Club building on the Sunset Strip. We shared the top floor with a Playboy photo studio. One day I was giving a tour to new prospective coed students. We stepped out of the elevator and there in the lobby were four or five giant 7-foot dildos; props from a recent shoot. They all gasped. But every one of them signed up.

So for eight hours a day I would instruct kids on how to cue up records; a skill today that is as utterly useless as how to clean your clothes on rocks.

All of the teachers were dating the students (except the teacher who was 90). For some reason it got brought to the owner’s attention that I was sleeping with one of the pupils. I was summoned to his office where he was shocked and outraged. I was jeopardizing the integrity of the institution. I was breaking a sacred ethical law. I said, “Are you kidding?! This isn’t Harvard Law. Do you think she’s going to get a job at WGN Chicago because I gave her an “A” in Record Segueing?” To me (and the rest of the esteemed underpaid faculty) this was the only perk of this stupid meaningless job.

So I gave him three choices. He could fire me, raise my salary from $650 a month to what garbage collectors made, or keep me on the same pay scale and just look the other way. He thought for a moment and said, “Just don’t fuck her on the equipment”.

A major component of any trade school is job placement. We had an employment counselor. He actually did a pretty good job of finding entry-level on-air jobs for these students. They were in markets like Elephants Breath, Georgia and Bumfuck, Iowa but still.

And then one day he hit the jackpot.

He received a call from a man saying he represented the Ford Foundation. The following year would be the bi-centennial and Ford wanted to hire a young woman who would go around the country and guest on radio shows talking up the rich history and heritage of America. (CBS television that year aired hourly “Bi-centennial Minutes”, capsulized snippets of U.S. History.) The job would pay $50,000 and all expenses would be covered. Talk about a sweet gig!

The rep came into town and conducted interviews for a week in his hotel room at the nearby Continental Hyatt. Then he disappeared. Turns out he slept with at least five of the applicants. Probably a few others were too embarrassed to admit it. The whole thing was a scam. (I’m sure some of you are horrified; others are cursing that they'll be too old to pull the same thing during the tri-centennial.)

Now that did jeopardize the sacred integrity of the institution. Lawsuits were flying. The station was not pleased. In a stroke of good timing David and I sold a script and I was able to extricate myself from this pillar of academia.

Here’s the sad thing: those girls who slept with the Ford guy, they’re probably the only students the KiiS Broadcasting Workshop ever had who actually learned something useful about the business.

Photos from Gary Thereaux

Jobs before my writing jobs

Here’s another installment in how David Isaacs and I got started in the business. Comedy writing career launches are like snowflakes. No two are ever the same and most eventually turn grey.

It’s the fall of 1974. I’m a disc jockey at KSEA San Diego, an FM top 40 powerhouse that is getting killed in the ratings by the airport traffic station. Our studios are in the bowels of a suburban shopping mall adjacent to the loading docks. I’ll save the KSEA stories for my other running feature -- my ersatz radio career. But on the weekends I would drive up to LA and David and I would work on our spec MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW. At the end of the year the ratings came out and there were more people listening to air raid sirens. So a week before Christmas they threw out the format and all of us.

This was a turning point for me. I decided to move back to LA, get a job doing anything and seriously try to become a comedy writer.

With no foreseeable income I figured I’d need either a roommate or a blanket and cozy doorway. Larry B., my best friend from college and I decided to rent an apartment together. We checked the Westside and found two-bedroom furnished places to be waaaay more expensive than we were willing to spend. So we expanded our search. The farther you got from the ocean and the closer to power lines the less the rents were. Still disheartening. David and his roommate at the time, had a place in the valley right next to an on-ramp of the Ventura Freeway. Drivers could literally peer into his bedroom and read things on his desk. I couldn’t afford that place.

But then one day we see this apartment and it’s amazing. Nicely furnished (the paintings of matadors were surprisingly tasteful), spacious, and unbelievably cheap. The two of us went down to the landlord, signed the lease, and couldn’t believe our good fortune.

Only after we moved in did we discover why the place was such a steal. We were in the middle of West Hollywood, which was (and is) practically all gay. That said, it was a great neighborhood! Fun neighbors, a million cool restaurants, and I could play my Pat Suzuki “Broadway 59” album without having to listen on headphones.

But now I needed a job. Unlike today, there actually WERE jobs. Not good ones but still. I didn’t care as long as I could make the rent and have nights and weekends free. David was in the film can schlepping department at ABC. I spent about a month knocking on doors, filling out applications, taking interviews (“My qualifications for selling ties? Um, I’m wearing one?”). I figured worse comes to worst I would draw caricatures of tourists for money on the Redondo Pier. One always needs a safe fallback career.

I saw an ad in a radio trade rag for the KiiS Broadcasting Workshop, a broadcasting school. I thought, “Hey, I could teach kids how to announce the weather.” The “campus” was located in the Playboy Club building (classy!) practically around the corner from me. So I went in and applied for a teaching position. They were very impressed with my resume. Not only had I worked in radio, I had worked in it within the last 35 years! One of their instructors had been the announcer on Orson Welles’ “War of the World” broadcast… in 1938. So I joined the esteemed faculty of the KiiS Broadcast Workshop for $650 a month. But I was on a tenured track.

To be continued….

Kiis photo by Gary Thereaux

Open letter to AMERICAN IDOL producers

I’m sure hundreds of thousands of people are offering their suggestions on how to resurrect AMERICAN IDOL. So why listen to me? Simple. I produced AfterMASH.

IDOL is very much at a crossroads. Last year was a disaster and you’ve lost the only real reason to watch the show, Simon Cowell. Trust me, people don’t tune in to see the 30th heavily tatted boring belter from Arkansas with a baby out of wedlock and a dad in prison attempt to sing the theme from ALADIN.

First off, I applaud you. You’ve already taken two very bold but necessary steps – firing Kara Dioguardi (every guy’s ultimate nightmare blind date) and firing Ellen DeGeneres (Oh, right, she “resigned” because IDOL was occupying “too much of her time” – three whole hours a week). I’m not worried about either of them. Ellen can go back to hosting her daytime show (which she does with considerable charm and ease) and Kara can return to writing inspired song lyrics like this:

Ooh, ooh baby
Touch me and I come alive
I can feel you on my lips
I can feel you deep inside
Ooh, ooh baby
In your arm's I finally breathe
Wrap me up in all your love
That's the oxygen I need, yeah

So what you’re left with is Randy Jackson, and that’s like going off to do the MASH sequel with Father Mulcahy.

You can change the set, the format, lower the age requirement to 10, revise the voting procedure, have the kids do Kia commercials instead of Ford, order Ryan to come out of the closet, whatever you want – it’s not going to make a difference.

Who you hire as judges – THOSE are the most important decisions you will ever have to make. Everything else you can fix. But if you hire the wrong people, you’re dead. The audience will tune in initially out of curiosity. But it’s not like before where they’d stick around for half a season or more until you finally drive 'em away with Sinatra Week. If the new arrangement isn’t clicking, they’re gone. Jewel as guest mentor isn’t going to keep them.

You need real personalities. You need distinctive characters. Not just names. Not just celebrities. Number of number ones don't mean anything. Neither is having your own line of perfume. Be a star on MTV or QVC, not Fox.

The names I hear you’re interested in are Jennifer Lopez and Steven Tyler. Now I’m willing to give them both a chance but honestly, I’m skeptical.

J-Lo? What exactly does she bring? Other than the fact that she’s a Scientologist so she’s a certified loon. Is she funny? Opinionated? Outrageous? What? From what I understand she’s the richest person of Latin American descent in Hollywood. That makes her qualified to judge THE APPRENTICE not AMERICAN IDOL. Yes, she’s versatile. She’s an actress and a singer. She’s slept with Puff Daddy and Ben Affleck. But the only time I’ve ever heard her speak is on red carpet arrival shows and when Sam Rubin and Kathy Ireland come off with more personality you reeeeeally gotta wonder.

And Steven Tyler from Aerosmith? Isn’t this just Ozzie Osbourne with slightly better diction?

Obviously I’m not on the inside. I don’t know who you’ve contacted and who has passed other than Howard Stern (I’d enjoy that but I worry he’d send ever tweener screaming back to the Disney Channel) and Elton John (who I think would be Captain FANTASTIC). I’m sure a lot of qualified candidates realize it’s a suicide mission. Good luck being prepared to Simon. Personally, I would consider Neil Patrick Harris and Harry Connick, Jr. Both were sensational as guest judges. But for all I know you did consider them and neither was interested. Oscar Levant would be another great choice but unfortunately he has a conflict. He’s dead.

I may be wrong and I hope I am because I loved AMERICAN IDOL when it was good. But I get the feeling with Jennifer Lopez and Steven Tyler that you’re settling. And you can’t afford to. Not now. Not anymore. You can no longer survive missteps like Ellen and Kara. As Simon would say, “you have to nail it.” Otherwise, this year America is going to vote off YOU.

The final total is....

Let's go to the tote board now where the cardboard cut out of Ed McMahon is standing by. The final total of new Twitter followers is...140,947!!!

Okay. 112.

But I appreciate each and every one. And you can still sign up. This was my first telethon and I learned a lot. The plate spinner killed me. And Lulu didn't help. Thanks to everyone who participated.

Tomorrow morning: My open letter to AMERICAN IDOL.

The invasion of the TV critics

For the most part I’ve gotten along with TV critics. Okay, Tom Shales once blamed me personally for the downfall of television but he may have been right. Plus, in my capacity as blog wise-ass, I’ve done my own share of TV critiquing. So I have empathy for them. When some stink burger crosses my screen I can turn it off. They have to watch it…along with four additional episodes that are even worse. Hell, just the TEN COMMANDMENTS mini-series would kill me.

Currently the nation’s TV critics have gathered in Beverly Hills (adjacent) for the bi-annual spin fest called the TCA Convention. Here networks, show runners, and stars ply them with shrimp and Bloody Marys hoping to get good reviews and favorable press. On the surface it sounds like a good deal. Free trip to LA, comped room at Merv Griffin's Beverly-Hilton (right next door to an abandoned department store). But then you realize what’s expected of them. Sitting in a conference room eight hours a day for two weeks hearing one dog and pony show after another. Imagine being trapped in a room while the producer of WIPE OUT talked for an hour about how groundbreaking and important to society his show was. If networks gave out an ice pick as swag you’d jam it in your skull.

On the other hand, this TCA dance is no fun for producers either. Three times I have had the pleasure of sitting on stage touting my shows. I looked out at a room of 100 bored restless people who dared me to say anything they hadn’t heard fifteen times already… that day.

For one of our sessions we followed a producer who insulted all of the critics, made fun of one member’s accent, and listed every euphemism for vagina he could think of. He had some that weren't even on CBS' list. By the time we got up to speak there was almost a mutiny.

Another time we confronted them after our studio’s crack PR department gave them swag so cheap and insulting that we became the laughing stock of the convention. We got questions like, “Will your show be in color?”

Only once did we have a good session, and that’s thanks to actor, Kevin Kilner. It was the first year of ALMOST PERFECT. Along with fellow co-creators David Isaacs and Robin Schiff, the show’s stars, Nancy Travis and Kevin Kilner joined us on the panel. For the first half hour it was the usual -- they asked rote questions and typed our rote answers even before we gave them. Finally, one reporter asked Kevin Kilner what his background was. He said that before he became an actor he was an accountant for a chicken farm. And then he said, “Do any of you guys know how they slaughter chickens?” I thought, “Oh Christ, we’re so dead.” But the critics all woke up. Suddenly a topic they hadn’t heard. So Kevin described in graphic neck-snapping detail how chickens are killed and for the next fifteen minutes we held them in rapt attention. And ALMOST PERFECT got the best reviews in our career.

So the lesson here is if you’re a producer scheduled to meet the press later this week, talk about anything other than your show. I think the topic of what goes into hotdogs is still open.

And if you’re one of the critics, the conference room now has Wifi. Go to pogo.com. There are hundreds of free online games.

And we’ll see you again in January and do it all over again. With fifty great NEW shows, much better than the 50 great new shows that are premiering now.

Saturday night was their TCA Awards. I don't know what the statue is -- maybe a golden replica of a free buffet ticket -- but congratulations to these winners: GLEE, MODERN FAMILY, BREAKING BAD, Julianna Margulies, Jane Lynch, LOST, THE PACIFIC, James Garner, YO GABBA GABBA, and LIFE. And special congratulations to Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe, winners of the Heritage Award for MASH. I would have been there myself but Tom Shales won't allow me in the room.

I've been saving the best for last!

Okay people. You've been enjoying this fine entertainment all day but have you picked up that computer and clicked on my Twitter link? No! What the fuck!! Do you think is easy? Do you think I like posting some new piece of shit entertainment every two hours? I haven't slept in three days!! What am I asking for here people? One click? One simple fucking goddman click? Are the people you are following so much more fucking interesting than me? "Saw INCEPTION". Pretty cool." Wow!! That guy is sure worth following. My tweets couldn't nearly be as entertaining as that!

We're winding down. I have no tote board but trust me, I'm hopelessly behind. I had been saving the best for last. More as a way of thanking you folks. But now I don't know. I don't know if you deserve him.

Oh well, he's here. And Jesus, if this guy doesn't knock your socks off then I don't know what the fuck to do. So I'm going to let him come out. But again. I better see you joining my Twitter community.

Alright. Christ I'm pissed! Sorry, wait, let me settle down a moment. Okay. I'm better.

Ladies and gentleman, I'll just say two words. SINATRA!!! JUNIOR!!!!

How do I keep coming up with such stupendous entertainment?

My Twitter telethon continues. Hoping to get another 5,000 followers... this hour. Or at least gaining more people than I lose. Come on people. It's for a great cause -- me maybe getting something out of it. Just go here.

In the meantime, the AMAZING entertainment continues!!!! Oh, will you laugh!! Here she is, funny lady extraordinaire!!! The high priestess of hilarity, Jessica Glassberg.

My Twitter telethon presents another spectacular act

It's hard to believe there can be so much sizzling entertainment on one blog but all these incredible performers have come together for this oh-so worthy cause -- me gaining more Twitter followers. I especially thank the ones who are no longer alive (performers, not new followers).

Like this incredible late entertainer. Give it up ladies and gentleman to the incomparable SENOR WENCES!!

You gotta have a plate spinner!!

Maybe this will finally entice people to follow me on Twitter. That's what this is all about. That's why all these great entertainers have lent their time and talent. I need more Twitter followers so I can maybe get a goddamn book deal. The staple of any telethon is the plate spinner. Ah, but this guy is not just ANY plate spinner. As astounding as it may seem, he can also build a small table! Right there on stage!! You've got to see it to believe it!

The spectacular entertainment continues

Unfortunately, Ed McMahon is not around so there's no reason to have a tote board. But we're falling behind people. I've had actually more people drop out. This is the first telethon that lost money. Is that even possible?

I'm trying to get enough new Twitter followers to at least be as popular as the guy who tweets knock-knock jokes.

And while you're signing up, enjoy our fine entertainment. You'll want to sing along with this one. The actual Eurovision winner in 1969, here's Lulu singing the haunting "Boom Bang-a-Bang".

More stars than are in the heavens!!

Okay, I'm sure these telethons take awhile to really get going and I should not be discouraged that I've only added three new Twitter followers. But the dazzling entertainment continues. As blog reader Mark correctly proclaimed, there is no telethon without Joey Heatherton!! So here she is fellas, singing her greatest hit and using her greatest prop! You can sign up here.