My book is now available in paperback

WHERE THE HELL AM I?  TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED is now available in "handsome" paperback form.  I'm pricing it ridiculously cheap.  I'm not going to make a fortune anyway so why not make it more attractive for people to buy?  It's only $6.99.  Seriously.  That's all.  Here's where you order.  And remember, it makes a great gift and Christmas is coming up. 

UPDATE:  Out of stock for the moment.  Making a slight change in the printing.  Should be back up in a day or so.  You are welcome to pre-order.  Sorry for the delay.  

If you thought Don Draper was good...

I’m always looking for effective ways of selling my book. (By the way, it’s gotten great reviews, it’s very funny, and the ebook costs only $2.99. What are you waiting for??? Order it here for Kindle, here for the Nook, here for everywhere else. And the paperback has just come out.  It's only $6.99 and you can order that here.  

But when I think of great salesmen, one name immediately comes to mind. Reverend Gene Scott. I’ve mentioned him before. He was a mainstay of local LA television in the ‘70s and ‘80s. He had this cable channel and was on it 24 hours a day. Twelve of those hours he was live. Twenty-one of those hours he was pitching for money. You rarely, if ever, saw him actually teach or preach the gospel.

He used a variety of techniques. Dr. Scott was a ruggedly handsome figure with flowing white hair and piercing eyes. Every time you tuned in, there he was, sitting on this garish wooden throne of buffalo antlers, staring at you, soliciting. Every other TV evangelist would cajole you, appeal to your sense of commitment and faith, and even occasionally beg. Not Dr. Scott.

He would get angry at you. He would yell at you. He would call you worthless.  He would accuse you of being in league with the devil.  (Dr. Scott was very big on the devil.  That was his go-to guy.)

He would sometimes set time limits. $30,000 in 30 minutes, or else! (I never knew what “what else” was since he never actually preached.) And then my favorite – he would just stare at you… for an hour. At the time I’m writing MASH and thinking, “I’m killing myself trying to come up with material to pack into every minute of the show” and this guy is more mesmerizing just sitting in a chair staring at me.

He brought in money by the bucket loads.

Now, obviously I can’t do that. I guess I could ask you to stare at the picture at the top of this post until you break down and buy the book, but I don't think that would work. 

Recently, I heard someone else try to emulate a Dr. Scott method with disappointing but riotous results.

I was surfing one night through iTunes radio, sampling different internet stations. I came upon this oldies station from Great Britain. A record ends and the owner of the station comes on. He says the station survives on donations alone. He then tells his audience to go to his website and pledge a donation. I was just about to move on.  But then he said this: “I’m not going back to music until I’ve received thirty pledges”.

Allll-riiiight! Now I knew I was in for some fine entertainment.

There are a billion other oldies internet stations. Some play the hits, some play obscure songs; there’s probably four that play Annette records 24/7. So his threat is completely toothless.

For the next half hour this guy vamps like there was no tomorrow. Clearly, he's getting no takers. How could he get thirty pledges? There couldn’t have been more than five people (including me) listening to this.

At first he jabbered on and on about how unique his playlist was. Uh, no. There are a thousand other stations playing that same Clarence Frogman Henry records. Then he discussed how hard he works and how much time this station requires. Uh, who’s telling you to do it?

Then he fumbles around for ten minutes groping for anything to say. Finally, he gets angry. But he's British. So he can't just yell at you like Dr. Gene. The best he can do is be properly peeved. And inside I know he's ready to explode.

Finally, out of pity (and gratitude for such a delightful half hour) I went to his website to make a donation.

I got an error message. The site wasn’t working.

It was the devil!  The devil I say!!

Open letter to anyone producing a sitcom pilot

For those of you lucky (or unlucky) enough to have your pilot ordered you are now in the toughest part of the process – casting. These are the most crucial decisions you will ever have to make on your project. Everything else can be fixed. Scripts can be rewritten, scenes re-shot, set dressing changed. Even your premise can be altered. But if your actors suck you are dead.

The only thing worse is that the actors suck, you get picked up anyway, and then you are dead and sent to a hell reserved for Hannibal Lector and the guy who created WINDOWS 98.

So may I make one suggestion? It sounds incredibly obvious but you’d be surprised.

HIRE FUNNY PEOPLE.

This is not as easy as it sounds. Sorry you waiters at the Cheesecake Factory but there are not that many really funny people out there.

And there is the growing ham fisted network interference that attempts to take the casting decisions right out of your hands and give away your prize parts to old retreads or J. Crew models. More important than comic chops to these networks are good teeth and breasts that test well.

But that’s not what YOU should be looking for. You want people who are funny. And beware. There are enough good actors in Hollywood who are skillful enough to know where the jokes are and how to get them. You can be fooled. So don’t just go by the reading.

Go by the look, the attitude, their body language, their voice. They are intangible qualities but you can spot them right away. Just look at the cast photos of PARKS & RECREATION and THE OFFICE. Then compare them with say the Americanized version of COUPLING.
Good rule of thumb: if someone walks into your office and you immediately want to write a new half page of dialogue for him or her, that’s who you hire.

And as for the network battles? Sometimes they’ll be won over too. Laughter is a great selling point. And then there will be those times you’ll hear, “Yeah, he’s funny but…” Just remember – there ARE NO BUTS. You can be diplomatic, praise them for their choice of actors but suggest they might be even more wonderful in that exciting new procedural pilot they have where a special team solves crimes by looking at cremation remains. But at the end of the day you want the funny choice, even if he’s not known. Sometimes it’s BETTER that he’s not known.

Producing a pilot is like one man facing an army. There are constant battles and it’s always hard to know which ones to fight. But this is the big one. Fight to the death for funny.

Just imagine SEINFELD with William Devane as Kramer and Kim Ravers as Elaine.

Best of luck with your project. I'm not going to hope it's good. I'm going to hope it's close to your vision.

N is for Nude Beaches

Thanks to everyone who has bought my book.  As you can see, I'm doing really well in these categories.  You can order yours by clicking on cover icon on the right or just clicking here.

 

Now I'm really proud to be the number one selling travel book about Santa Barbara because let's face it, there must be millions of them.  You're probably thinking, so what does Ken's book have that no other does?  Well, to answer that, and as a way of giving a sample of the kind of travelogues you'll find in my book, here's my Santa Barbara entry.  Enjoy... and order. 

SANTA BARBARA July 2003


With both kids away this summer (I forget where) my wife and I snuck off to Santa Barbara for a long weekend. Other than the speeding ticket and dropping my cell phone in a pool it was a wonderful trip. Santa Barbara has become the land of the "smart writers who got out and bought when prices were still affordable.” Now one must go to Lodi.

Every structure in Santa Barbara is made of stucco. Every floor is tiled. Every hotel room has pictures of the mission. Maybe one in a gazillion tourists come up to Santa Barbara to see the friggin' mission.

Shacks are referred to as "cottages.”

Golden Girls writers have gorgeous homes up there. But I’m not bitter.

We stayed at the Inn at the Spanish Gardens. Lovely hotel. Not as nice as Bob Zemickis' tool shed but still. Walking distance to State Street and in a perfect location: down the block from the Council of Drug Prevention and Alcoholism. Across the street from Legal Services. And around the corner from the Probation Department. It was the Ritz-Carlton of Watts.

The town was jumping. All the guys looked like Ashton Kutcher or Jerry Garcia. All the women looked like Demi Moore or Ashton Kutcher.

Sue Grafton, the mystery author, lives up in Santa Barbara. And so, in following her lead...

S is for Sushi -- There are sushi restaurants on every block. Typical small town America.

I is for Informercial -- My favorite store in Santa Barbara is called "As Seen on TV.” It offers all the dandy items you see on television that you order by phone. From Vegematics to that miracle foam thing you put between your knees when you're sleeping, they have it all. My favorite is the Jane Fonda treadmill with the great added feature that there's nothing to plug in! It uses no electricity. You generate the belt moving by yourself! Excuse me, but isn't that called "walking"??? You're paying $200 to walk??? Shouldn't it be called the "Jane Fonda Hamster Wheel"? I overheard a customer say "How does this place stay in business if you can return stuff because none of this crap actually works?"

O is for the Oxiclean kit we bought. I never have to pour or measure detergent again! How did I live without this?

W is for the Wizard Pancake maker (which also makes donuts at no extra cost).

R is for Rain -- It rained Saturday. First time in late July in Santa Barbara since the Cenozoic Era. But did real estate values go down?? Nooooo.

A is for Appalled -- When I called the front desk and reserved an in-room massage, I gave my name as Kobe Bryant. (Note: at the time he was charged with raping a girl in his hotel room.)

P is for Politically Incorrect -- Santa Barbara boasts the first (and now only) Sambo’s restaurant. Noted without comment....except...come on guys!

E is for End of an Era -- the mask store on State Street is going out of business. Where will people who eat at Sambo's get their masks?

H is for Heist -- I saw an officer of the SBPD tooling around on a motorized scooter. If you want to rob a bank and your getaway vehicle is anything but a Segway I'd seriously consider Santa Barbara.

G is for Great Food -- The Palace Grill and Andersons.

M is for Mission -- Okay, we went to a mission after all. Gorgeous, impressive, truly majestic. No wait, that was our friends, Dave & Sally's new house in Ojai.

N is for Nude Beaches -- they have them in Santa Barbara. Considering that most people I saw shouldn't wear shorts much less go naked, I did not visit.




Z is for Zorro -- who, as legend has it, bought his first mask at the mask store on State Street.

Who says Hollywood only cares about itself?

Our hearts go out to everyone in Japan and everyone affected by the residual tsunamis.  The headlines and on-line videos have been heartbreaking and horrifying.  And then I went to one of those Hollywood industry sites.  Their big story was that production on HAWAII 5-0 did not have to shut down.  They had no shots near the shore so they were able to continue filming as planned.

All I can say is "WHEW!!!"

That was a close one.  I'm sure, like me, your first thought on hearing of a possible Hawaii tsunami was is this going to set HAWAII 5-0 back a day or two?   Thank God, thank GOD, that didn't occur.  That would have been a... well, a disaster.

That reminds me of the time there was an assassination attempt on President Reagan.  The headline in one of the trade papers the next day was...

OSCARS POSTPONED

and then, in much smaller letters...


PRESIDENT REAGAN SHOT

 

Was MASH ever asked to change its title?

It’s March 11th. To celebrate the Meiji Japanese government officially annexing the Ryukyu Kingdom in 1872, here are some Friday questions:

John starts it off:

Back in the 1960s and early 70s, I remember shows that went into daytime/evening re-runs while still showing on network were usually renamed, under the idea that the public was too dumb to figure out the difference between a first-run prime-time episode and one airing opposite the 6 p.m. news. Supposedly, that changed in 1978 because for some odd reason, Fox had sold the syndication rights to M*A*S*H as "M*A*S*H", and the story was CBS was facing the prospect of actually having to change the name of the prime-time show before a deal was reached.

Since that was about the time you and David were the head writers, is that true? Was the 1979-80 season ever close to being renamed something like "The A*L*A*N A*L*D*A Show"?

No. There was never any serious discussion of changing the name of MASH. I mean, seriously, what else could you call it? THE POTTER BARN? THOSE WACKY MEDICOS OF THE 4077? MEATBALL SURGERY? IF IT’S 1951 THIS MUST BE KOREA? (I’m sure you guys will chip in a few others.)

Before MASH went into syndication CBS aired reruns of the show Friday nights at midnight. This was 1977 or 78 as I recall. The following year it went into full syndication. MASH is rather unusual in that generally shows go into syndication and after the first three years their numbers go down (which is understandable. How many times can you watch the same episode of SILVER SPOONS?). But MASH’s numbers remained pretty steady. And CONTINUE to stay high, even after thirty years.

Of course, no show will EVER surpass the staying power of I LOVE LUCY. Can you imagine? Those episodes are sixty years old?  Do you think in 2071 people will be watching TWO AND A HALF MEN reruns and saying, “Can you believe Charlie Sheen is 106 years-old”?

But you’re right, John. In the ‘60s and ‘70s networks were concerned their primetime series would suffer competing with themselves in syndication so they often changed the names. The one that pops to mind is GUNSMOKE. In syndication it was called MARSHALL DILLON.  (Reminds me of that old '50s oldie -- they call me Speedo but my real name is Mr. Earl.)

And then there's YOU’LL NEVER GET RICH.  That became THE PHIL SILVERS SHOW and yet no one called it either.  For most of us, that show will always be SGT. BILKO.

MASH certainly proved that having a show run in syndication concurrent with its original run does not hurt first-run ratings. MASH’s primetime numbers were never higher than its last three seasons.

And an even better example is WINGS. After several years it went on the USA NETWORK. And they didn’t just play it five times a week; they played it five hundred times a week. It was a joke! USA played nothing but WINGS. The result: more people discovered the show and its primetime ratings shot up. Of course, in this case, it sort of helped that the show was terrific.


From bettyd:

Approximately how many staff will be out of work when a typical show stops production for this reason or because of cancellation? Of course Two and a half Men has a small cast, but I assume it is the same number of camera people, writers, etc for most 3 camera sit-coms.

Generally about two hundred people.  Think about that the next time you trash a hotel room, Charlie.

And finally, Anonymous (please leave a name) asks:

So when you write, do you write for yourself or do you write for an audience in middle America?

Both but myself first. And it’s not middle America, it’s whoever the intended audience is. Jokes that work on FRASIER might not have the same zing on HANNAH MONTANA.

But here’s the thing about “middle America” – everyone assumes they’re cornpones. On MASH we did all kinds of sophisticated jokes and literary references. Where were our best ratings? Those cornpones are a lot sharper than you think.

What’s your question? And again, congratulations to the Meijis.

AMERICAN IDOL: Top 13

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Time called as the FBI goes out to arrest the right fielder

I always have to do a disclaimer when I do a baseball-related post.  THIS IS EVEN INTENDED FOR YOU NON-BASEBALL FANS. 


Spring training is in full swing. Those Grapefruit and Cactus League races are really heating up. Some crucial split-squad games are this week. Check your local listings. I’ll be heading to Arizona very soon to begin broadcasting for the Seattle Mariners. I can’t wait. It’ll be the stretch drive.

So today I thought I'd share some amusing incidents involving spring training.

A few years ago a young man played winter ball in Venezuela. Then he had to report to spring training in Florida. But before he left he mailed himself a whole shipment of cocaine. And addressed it to himself at the team’s spring training headquarters. When it arrived the receptionist was a little leery. Something was a little suspicious about it. So she told her supervisor who told someone else and well…

The next day the team is playing a game. This ballplayer is in right field. It’s the 4th or 5th inning, the game is in progress, when suddenly time is called and six federal agents march out into right field and lead this guy off in handcuffs. Players don’t like being sent down. They really don’t like being sent away for ten years.

A number of teams have “talent” nights where their rookies are required to perform. The Dodgers stage their own American Idol. Well, American/Dominican Idol. And if you think Simon was tough. There’s no tougher music critic than a veteran baseball ballplayer. However, those veterans will all get theirs. During the season they’ll have to listen to 162 bad renditions of the National Anthem.

Speaking of the Dodgers, it feels very odd not hosting Dodger Talk this year. I was kind of hoping the team would refuse to play the games as a result, but apparently I meant nothing to them.

Every year there are three or four players who report to camp late because of Visa problems. They have five months to arrange for their trip to the U.S. and still they screw it up.

There are always freak injuries. First, Baltimore Orioles pitcher Brad Bergesen injured his shoulder recently while filming a commercial for the team. And then, (this one is not funny), a Boston Red Sox coach was hitting some balls on a practice field and one accidentally struck pitcher Josh Beckett in the head. He’s okay but that’s a little scary. And how’d you like to be that coach?

When I was broadcasting for the Orioles we played a spring game against the Pirates at their facility in Bradenton, Florida. ESPN’s Dick Vitale was taking in the ballgame. He got hit by a foul ball. He wasn’t hurt. A few innings later he and wife left the game. As they were walking away from the park he was hit by another foul ball.

Meanwhile, hard throwing Randy Johnson was pitching in a spring game when a bird happened to fly right in the path of a pitch. The bird literally exploded.

Teams like to play practical jokes. Brett Myers of the Philadelphia Phillies pulled an elaborate one on his teammate Kyle Kendrick. Kendrick was called into the manager’s office and told by the manager and assistant general manager that he had been traded to Japan. He believed them.

St. Patrick’s Day always falls in the middle of spring training. One year to celebrate, Mickey Hatcher painted himself green, and even played a few innings like that. Unfortunately, he had used enamel paint and his pores couldn’t breathe. He had to be doused with alcohol to strip the paint.

And finally, a story I’ve told before. I was with the Mariners in 1992 and we went into Palm Springs to play the Angels. Because the Angels were televising that game there was no room for us in the press box. So they set up tables in the stands and that’s where we broadcast to a thirty-station radio network. I’m on the aisle, calling the game, there’s an exciting play, and as I describe the action I feel a tapping on my shoulder. It’s a vendor wanting me to pass three Diet Coke’s down the row. I do, continue announcing and a few seconds later I’m handed some money. I give it to the vendor who taps me on the shoulder again. Would I please pass the change?

Sports Illustrated cooked up a story in 1985 about a New York Mets’ pitching prospect named Siddharta "Sidd" Finch who could supposedly throw a ball at 160 m.p.h. Lots of folks bought that tale. If the Mets were smart they would have traded him.


And finally, I'll leave you with this (compliments of my friend Mike McCann): A lot of venues offer photo ops where you can get your picture taken next to a cut-out of a ballplayer.  But who can the actual ballplayers get their pictures taken with? 

If you ever have the chance, go down to Florida or Arizona during spring training. It’s a great vacation, a great father-and-son bonding trip (or mother-and-son, or son-and-father's mistress), and you get to keep all foul balls that hit you.

Writing room etiquette

There was a lot of controversy surrounding my post of last Thursday – what was really going on behind closed doors in writers rooms with reference to Charlie Sheen. Some thought it was offensive and I was insensitive for posting it. Others understood that I was merely showing what actually happens. A few just liked the jokes. I’m sure others didn’t have problems with any of that, just didn’t like my writing.

But as I said at the time, writing rooms can get pretty ribald. All subjects and body parts are fair game. The only real requirement is that it be funny. Remember a few years ago a FRIENDS writing assistant tried to sue the staff for sexual harassment? The court ruled in favor of the show and the unique environment that comedy writers work in.

And it should be pointed out, we make these horrible blue jokes not so much because we’re awful human beings, but because we’re under tremendous pressure. Scripts have to be fixed overnight. You are expected to be funny on demand, which is not easy to do. Try it.

I’ve probably spent half my life in writers rooms (although it seems more like 80%) and have quite a few stories. Almost none I can repeat here. But there is one that I want to share. And don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. But it speaks to this issue.

The showrunner on one particular series I worked on had maybe the filthiest mouth in Hollywood. Sailors and bikers would blush. But he was screamingly funny.

For late night rewrites we would have a writers assistant in the room taking down what was pitched. One night our normal assistant was sick so they got a temp to replace her. This new assistant (we’ll call her Prudy) didn’t know what hit her. After about an hour she finally spoke up. She said to the showrunner in a stern tone, “Can we just confine our comments to the script?”

There was a hush in the room. No one talks back to a showrunner like that . We braced ourselves for the explosion.

But it never came.

The showrunner took it in stride and good spirit. He said, “Alright, fine. Take this down”, and he began dictating.

“Fade in. Interior apartment – day. Fred enters. Fred says…”

At which point he let fly the raunchiest, filthiest, c-bomb laden, XXX, perverse stream-of-conscious monologue ever uttered. Needless to say, we were all dying.

When he was finished, careful not to leave out any depraved act or euphemism for sexual organ (he must've gone on for five minutes), he leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his neck, took a beat, and said to the temp:

“Okay, now read that back to me.”

Poor Prudy had to recite the entire offensive speech. By now we were on the floor, holding our sides.

I felt bad for Prudy because obviously she didn’t know what she was getting into. And clearly, she had the wrong sensibility for that position. But damn, it was funny.

And by the way, the showrunner did hold it down somewhat the rest of the evening, I’m sure that was in deference to her. He had made his point, but for all his colorful language and vivid imagery he really was a good guy. I wish he had asked her to type it up, though. God, would I have loved a copy of that.

I need your help to get on the NY Times Best Seller List

Okay, it's finally here! 

I was hoping for the same hysteria that greeted a new HARRY POTTER novel but now I'll be happy if you just buy it. WHERE THE HELL AM I?  TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED, by your humble blogger is now available on Kindle and various other ebook formats (like Sony). 

UPDATE:  The Nook version is now available.  Just go here.

The paperback will be out shortly. 

So what is this?  You know all those amusing travelogues I post whenever I go out of town? The best of them have been compiled into what I believe is a book.

This is a grand experiment. It's the first time I've ever self-published. From what I've always heard, the key is marketing. You need a platform to launch your book, to get the word out. Those I've talked to in the industry said I'd have no trouble because I have a platform -- this blog.  Yeah, well... today I'll find out. Gulp.

My goal is not to make a fortune (since I know I won't) but to sell as many copies and attract as many readers as I can.  So my Kindle (and other ebook formats) price is just $2.99 -- way below what Dave Barry asks for the same kind of crap.   But I figured $2.99 was a reasonable price to support a blog that has brought you so many happy hours of avoiding work.   Don't be like my dear wife who just downloaded the free sample.  It's $2.99.  You can't buy Raisinettes for that money. 

Plus, I really do think it's a funny book.  Some of the travelogues you longtime readers may have read and there are others that have never been posted.  All kidding aside, I'm very proud of it.

So please click here or the book cover icon on the right to get yours while supplies last. 

Oh, and if you do buy it (for still way less than one lousy gallon of gasoline), please tell your friends and leave a review on Amazon.  Would love to know what you thought, good or bad.  And anything you could do to spread the word would be most appreciated.  I have a dedicated website, and very exciting -- a dedicated Facebook page (for your liking or friending or whatever pleasure).  But I have no PR person.  Who the hell is going to spend $2000 for a publicist on a book that sells for $2.99?

Many thanks.  And a special thanks to Lee Goldberg who led me through this process.  Buy his books too.

To give you a better idea of what this is about, here's the introduction.

It’s sort of the Facebook principle. You collect all these friends, many you haven’t actually contacted in months or years, but you connect with them all through your status updates. Before social networks came along I used to keep in touch with my friends via travelogues.

Whenever I went east of Simi Valley I wrote amusing accounts of my travels and emailed them to the few hundred friends in my address book. (God, that sounds so primitive!) And unlike status updates, since I wasn’t filing them seven times an hour, I would frequently get replies back, allowing me to stay connected with everyone on my list.

Thus a tradition was born. At first I worried that I wouldn’t find enough humorous situations and observations to warrant a full account every trip. I mean, how do you get three pages out of Albuquerque?

But I always found something. Usually more than I needed. Even in Albuquerque. D.H. Lawrence was cremated there and his ashes are mixed in with the cement used to build his burial guesthouse. Seriously, how can seeing that not be on your bucket list?

Absurdity and goofiness and Americana are everywhere (even in Europe). So as long as there are Duck Tours, the “Master Bait & Tackle Shop”, Pet Jacuzzis, hotels with voodoo floors, a Cannabis festival, the “Miss Swamp Buggy” beauty contest, 100,000 rubber ducks in the Ohio River, a Minnie Pearl statue, the “Shrub Guy”, free dwarf mice, and Hitler’s town car on display in a Las Vegas casino there is no shortage of mirth.

And today when you travel, humor is not just a luxury; it’s a requirement. Getting anywhere now is an ordeal. Between the TSA, airlines, ground transportation, hotels, and crowds, what once was a leisurely family vacation is now the wire hanger scene in Mommie Dearest. So you either laugh or have a psychotic breakdown at the Hertz Gold Club counter.

The travelogues continued. Between vacations, visiting the kids in college, work related sojourns, mounting a musical out of town, and covering major league baseball teams, I’ve logged thousands of miles from Honolulu to Athens with every Cincinnati and Ft. Lauderdale in between.

When I amassed enough of these reports I considered compiling them into a book. An editor reviewed the material and said he would publish it in a minute… if my name was Dave Barry. But, to use his words, “No one knows who the f*ck you are?” “Even with my credits?” I asked. “M*A*S*H? Cheers? Frasier?” “Your family is going to buy the book anyway” was his response.

That was six years ago. Today, with my blog, articles in major publications, and radio presence in Los Angeles and Seattle, I can say with complete modesty that I am now well known enough that I can self publish.

So here they are -- the highlights and lowlights – of 38 of the greatest cities in the U.S. and the world, and 12 average ones. Besides personal experiences there are also travel tips, recommendations, warnings, a little history, and hopefully a few laughs along the way.

Feel free to skip around. Seek out the cities you know and compare your impressions with mine. Or search for destinations you’re considering visiting. Or -- and I know this is crazy -- read the whole book. It’s laid out chronologically so there is continuity and variety. But if you just want to read five New York travelogues, be my guest.

When you finish, I invite you to think back to your own trips. Upon reflection, I’ll bet there were a lot of funny incidents and encounters that didn’t seem funny at the time. But had you viewed them differently, they might have been. And that’s another of my objectives, to get you to approach your future vacations with an eye open to the absurd. Trust me, you’ll have way more fun…except at O’Hare.

So happy travels. As you’ll soon see, mine were. Mostly. In general.

Ken Levine

February 2011

Are you taking a meeting? READ THIS FIRST!

This is a short one but maybe the most valuable advice I have given since don't park in Les Moonves' space. When you are lucky enough to get a meeting with a producer or story editor or writer or agent or executive… always ALWAYS…

GOOGLE THEM BEFORE THE MEETING!
Now that we have such a thing, it is inexcusable to go into a meeting not knowing exactly who the person is and what he has done. Maybe there are articles where he’s quoted. You get a sense of his viewpoint, his interests. Imdb his credits. The more you know, the better prepared you are, the easier it will be to impress.

And the reverse is true. When someone blunders into a meeting unprepared, since we all know how easy it is to Google someone, right away that person is branded as a dolt – which he is.

And executives and producers?

Same for you.

If you’re meeting a writer or director, imdb him first. I wrote a spec screenplay a few years ago that resulted in a meeting with a young executive. He complimented me on the writing and wondered what I had been doing because this was an amazing first effort. He was a tad embarrassed when I told him I had written one or two things before that.

I’ll leave you with a great Hollywood story (or tall tale). I believe it was Billy Wilder who said it. Late in his illustrious career he took a meeting with a young executive who asked, “What have you done?” Wilder supposedly leaned in to him and said, “You first.”

GOOGLE THEM BEFORE THE MEETING!


More on this tomorrow but did you notice the book cover on the right?  I know the author personally and can tell you it's a GREAT book.  And the ebook version is only $2.99.  Click on the cover or here.  Thanks on behalf of the author. 

Why I'll never be a judge on AMERICAN IDOL

Watching the twelve semi-finalist girls on AMERICAN IDOL earlier this week I was struck by how similar they were.  Big voices all doing Maria Carey and Alicia Keys.  Ya need someone to belt out a power ballad?   Ya need someone to show off and do useless runs in the middle of songs for no reason?  These are your gals.  The judges fawn all over them while I just shake my head.   Not only are these women becoming interchangeable from each other, they're becoming interchangeable from season to season.

Here are two women singers that I really like.  I'm sure many of you know them. They've sold a shitload of records ("shitload" being the official RIAA measurement for tallying music sales). I suspect neither of these girls would have survived day one of Hollywood Week, assuming they even got that far.  Clearly, my taste is not in line with what the producers of AMERICAN IDOL want. 

What do you think?  And you're welcome to call me crazy. I've been called a lot worse, this week even. Up first are two girls that I like.  Then two AMERICAN IDOL contestants that are wowing the judges. One was on the bubble, had to compete with two other girls, gave the worst, screechiest performance ever, just massacring a song, and yet she was still selected over the other more deserving two. 

Listen carefully because I'm going to ask you to vote.

Here's Nicole Atkins.  She's been called a female Roy Orbison.  Throw in a little Mama Cass. 


Next up, Feist (Leslie Feist). This song makes we want to dance and buy an iPod Nano.


And now here are IDOL standouts Haley Reinhart and Ashley Jones.


Okay America (and the world), it's your turn to vote. Of these four, which two would you keep and which two would you send packing? The lines are open!!   THIS is AMERICAN SOMETHING TO DO ON THE WEEKEND!!!!

Brandon Tartikoff

Taking a break from all of yesterday's controvery, here are a few Friday Questions and Answers.
ajjjj begins:

What do managers do, and is it worth it to have one or submit to them when you're starting out?

Generally they make out the line-up, decide on the pitching rotation and… oh, you mean that kind of manager. Sorry. My head is into spring training.

In theory, a manager has just a few clients. So he is able to give you a lot of personal attention. He should be able to advise you on career choices. If you have a specific goal he should construct a game plan. The idea is that he’s really looking out for your best interests.

Your agent negotiates any deal. Your agent generally has a lot of clients. So if your agent isn't giving you the attention you require your manager keeps on his ass,

Sometimes a manager can act as your protector. Agencies make their big money not on your commissions but on putting together package deals for series. If the show becomes a hit they own a piece and that could be a jackpot. So even though there are better deals or better situations for you, your agent may try to steer you towards a show that is their package.

Let’s say the agent has two clients – you and the showrunner to that show. The showrunner needs a writer and you’d be great. But he’s also an asshole and impossible to work for while at the same time another showrunner wants you and he’s a prince. Whose best interest is the agent going to serve? Yours or the cash cow showrunner? So he’ll try to talk you into taking that job. Your manager, on the other hand, should look at the big picture and advise you take the other position.

But here’s the thing – if a manager puts a client in a show he can take a producing credit. So he’s then acting in his own best interest, not yours. And he winds up with a producing credit and piece of the action and does absolutely nothing for it.

When you’re starting out you want anybody who will work on your behalf.  If you can’t get an agent but can get a manager and that manager has connections and can make things happen for you, then do it. Otherwise, if you can get an agent, and you like him (and even trust him) then I think a manager is unnecessary and you’re just paying out more of your salary.

Personally, I have never had a manager. I’m confident that the agents that I’ve selected do in fact work on my behalf, and if I thought otherwise, I would just change agents.

That said, there are writers who swear by their managers. Bottom line: you just need somebody to have your back. It could be a manager, an agent, or an attorney.


Brian Doan asks:

Riffing on the anecdote you told-- what was it like working with Brandon Tartikoff? When you worked on CHEERS, did you come in to contact with him a lot? Especially since his passing, there seems to be a legend that's grown up around him, as one of the last TV execs to fill both the "creative" and "business" sides of the job. Did you find that to be true? Sorry if you've answered this before!

Brandon was the smartest and nicest high level television executive I ever worked for.  A complete mensch.  It was clear that he really loved television. He never considered programming a network just a rung on the ladder (a la Jeff Zucker). He treated everyone with respect. He was very collaborative, never tried to strong-arm you.

And he had taste. He appreciated quality and encouraged it. That’s not to say he didn’t see the need for standard popular fare, but even then if he was going to pick up THE A TEAM, he wanted to make the best possible A TEAM.

And Brandon was by far the most down-to-earth executive I have ever encountered. I have a basketball net on my garage. One day my son and I were shooting hoops. Brandon and his family drove up. They were attending some event at our neighbor’s. I look up and there’s Brandon walking up asking if he can work in with us. I’m standing in my driveway shooting baskets with my son and the President of the National Broadcasting Company. He was truly one of a kind. And had a great jump shot.

And finally, from Rory Wohl:

On taped shows with a live audience where there's some acknowledgment of the commercial break (I'm mostly thinking of talk shows where the host says, "We'll be back after these commercial messages"), how long a break does the show actually take? Do they take the two minutes (or six, if it's Jimmy Fallon or Craig Ferguson) and pretend commercials were shown? Do they take just enough time to set up the next shot (i.e., host moves from monologue stage to sitting behind desk)? Do they use the break as time to adjust other stuff?

They tape those shows as if they’re live. Rarely will they stop tape. So if a commercial break is six minutes, they will wait six minutes before starting up again. I believe that the network commercials are actually put in at the time of the taping. The only real holes are for local spots. This goes for game shows, too.

What’s your question? And "Play ball"!

What they're saying in writing rooms all over town about Charlie Sheen

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I actually received this stupid note

This is one of those “what’s one of the stupidest notes you’ve ever gotten?” posts.

In the late ‘90s I was directing a sitcom that starred the junior senator from Minnesota. At the time, he was just Al Franken. When I see him on CNN acting very senatorial, it’s odd to think that at one time I was telling him, “stand over there”. But he was a pleasure to work with and very funny. I’m guessing he’s the funniest U.S. senator, although in fairness, I haven’t been in a writing room with Orrin Hatch.

Anyway, the series was called LATELINE and it was essentially a fictional version of ABC’s NIGHTLINE. You saw the behind-the-scenes machinations of a network news program. So we had very elaborate sets. A big newsroom, a control room with multiple monitors, and a TV studio. In addition to the four film cameras used to shoot the show, I also had four tape cameras to shoot the fictional show and provide different angles for the control room monitors. We shot this in front of a studio audience and for certain scenes that meant I had eight cameras rolling simultaneously. As a director, I was in heaven. So many fun toys to play with! And like I said, Al was great. Always on set. We never had to break while he went and voted.

After the first season, we shot the show in New York. Normally on the third day of production you have a big network runthrough. Reps from the studio and network attend and give you notes. But they were all 3,000 miles away. So someone devised a system whereby I would shoot the runthrough and beam it back to Los Angeles via satellite.

However, the regular camera crew didn’t come in until the following day to start blocking. So we had no cameramen and no one to switch from camera to camera. We were confined to one tape camera and that’s it. We brought in one of the tape cameramen and I gave him instructions to just follow the action as best he could.

I didn’t envy him. There were scenes in the newsroom with people spread way out. There were scenes that intercut between the on-air studio and the control room. The only way to capture even a portion of what was going on was to have an extremely wide master.

So I do my first network runthrough. Back in Los Angeles the executives are watching. The satellite transmission is up and running. We of course, can’t see or hear them. We have no idea what their reaction to anything is. But the runthrough goes pretty well I think. The poor camera guy is so far back he’s almost in a different borough, but that’s the only way he can show everything.

So we get the call from L.A. with the notes. The network honcho says, “Gee, I’d really like to see a few close ups”.

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. What a fucking idiot! I delicately explained that when I actually shoot the show I will have four cameras and two passes, meaning I will cover the scene from eight different angles. None of them will be from the bleachers. That seemed to satisfy him.

But I can just imagine him going back to Burbank and reporting back to his superior that he saved the show.

My final Oscar thoughts (for this year)

The Motion Picture Academy has got to figure out what it wants. Trying to straddle the line between stature and hip isn’t working. The end result is that is the show is COP ROCK. You can’t have it both ways.

You can’t have Justin Timberlake make “Banksy” jokes one minute and cart out Kirk Douglas the next. You can’t do a tribute to Lena Horne and let Gwyneth Paltrow anywhere near an orchestra.

As long as they maintain essentially the same format they will remain as uncool as Members Only jackets. That's just a fact.  It makes no difference who they get to host. And boy they’ve tried everybody. Ellen DeGeneres. Whoopi Goldberg, for godsakes! Three times! Even Wile E. Coyote stopped using the Acme rocket launcher after it blew up in his face twice.

This year the plan was to just let two hot young movie stars host. They didn’t have to be funny. They didn’t have to dance. Considering James Franco, they didn’t even have to be awake. But even if I was 20 and the world’s biggest Anne Hathaway fan, why would I think it was a big deal to see her host a stodgy awards show when I can rent a movie and see her naked for a half hour?

As last night's ratings and reviews revealed, the audience does want them to be funny and entertaining (who knew?). Eight costume changes and a couple of joints aren’t enough. Also, and this is where they both struggled, the audience wants to feel that the hosts are in command. They can move things along, they can ad lib if they have to, they can handle unforeseen situations (and those happen on live TV… or at least you hope). Anne and James were two first-time skydivers pushed out of planes. Not their fault. They’d never done it before.

So the Academy has to make a commitment. If they really want to capture the young audience then just turn the Oscars into the MTV Awards. Have Howard Stern fly in as Fartman. Cut to a shot of Helena Bonham Carter in the audience and super the words: Lady Gaga. Bag the editing, costume design, and sound awards. Do those at a dinner hosted by the guy who played McLovin’. Keep any category that NYU students can win. Show classic movie montages that only go back to 1997. Give the lifetime achievement award to Marisa Tomei. Have Justin Bieber host. No orchestra. Hire a D.J. If you want to use Anne Hathaway, fine. Just have her dry hump Amy Winehouse. Hold the ceremony at the House of Blues or the Skybar.

And if you don’t want to do that, then go the other direction. Make the show as elegant and glamorous as you can. Hire pros like Alec Baldwin or Steve Martin to host. Celebrate great stars from the past like Kirk Douglas because they are national treasures that soon will be gone. Have security stop Russell Brand at the door. Embrace your history and tradition and don’t run from it. Discontinue the silly practice of having ten Best Picture nominees. It’s schmuck bait and everyone knows it. Return dignity and class to the ceremony. And who knows? Maybe someday dignity and class will be considered cool. And when that day comes, you don't want to be stuck with Chelsea Handler hosting. 

My 2011 Oscar Review

What does it say when a man who is 94 years-old and recovering from a stroke is funnier than any Oscar host for the last fifteen years? Kirk Douglas and Melissa Leo’s f-bomb were the two highlights of the 83rd annual Academy Awards.

It was also the most suspenseful Oscarcast in fifteen years. At least at my house where the power kept going out. As for the awards themselves, there were zero surprises. The producers of THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT didn’t really prepare a speech, did they?

Meanwhile, my thanks to Ruth Zommick for graciously letting me barge in and watch the show at her place. I did see most of it. The only part I missed was the award where an American won.

I thought Anne Hathaway was very winning as the co-host. She got a little too revved-up by the end (high fiving kids and almost launching them into the audience) but she was genuine, bubbly, and you didn’t have to watch the red carpet show this year because she wore everyone’s gown. As for James Franco, it turns out the only thing he can’t do is host the Oscar show. James was a little stiff. Much like the shoulders on Cate Blancett’s gown. When it comes back from the cleaners you take out the cardboard before putting on the dress, Catey.

I know they were going for a younger demographic, but a giant chorus of children from PS 22 in Staten Island? Is the target audience now 9? I did love their “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” finale. In fact, I wish they had sung the nominated songs. Florence from Florence of the Machine must’ve been slipped a roofie five minutes before going on stage. She made James Franco seem animated. And Gwyneth Paltrow? Jennifer Hudson introduced her as “Country music’s newest star”. On what planet? Doing a phony accent and giving colonics does not make you a great country singer. Let Anne Hathaway do it.

I must say, after Gwyneth Paltrow when I saw Scarlett Johansson I thought, “Please God, no. DON’T SING!” Have you heard her CD? It sounds like someone giving a cat a bath.

Before the show there’s always the red carpet show. No one covers it more stupefying than local channel KTLA 5. Your hosts: Footstool to the stars, Sam Rubin, and adding some glamour to the proceedings -- helicopter traffic reporter, Jessica Holmes. Assisting them was their “fashion expert”, Ellen K. whose impeccable credentials include sidekick to Ryan Seacrest on his radio show. Sam is always good for a couple of idiotic questions and remarks. To Russell Brand he said, “You were a big ladies man. Why does Colin Firth have every woman in love with him, even more frankly than you ever did”. Smooth. And then, at one point, a pained Sam asked fashion aficionado, Ellen K: “Is it bothersome that Nicole Kidman is so much taller than Keith Urban or does no one care about this anymore?” Give this man his own show on Fox News!

Speaking of Nicole Kidman, I wanted to ask her “Who did your face?” or even “Whose face are you wearing tonight?”

The fashion themes this year were color, chiffon, and covering up tattoos. Even Helen Mirren, Queen Elizabeth herself, hid her tramp stamp.

Loved the opening movie montage with Anne and James entering the nominated films… and BACK TO THE FUTURE (for some reason). The technology was amazing. If they can insert actors right into films why don’t they just remake every Ashton Kutcher movie with Paul Rudd?

Nice to see that Reese Witherspoon has survived HOW DO YOU KNOW and is still in show business.

Of course TOY STORY 3 won Best Animated Film. How can a Best Animated Film that is also nominated as Picture of the Year not win Best Animated Film?

Ricky Gervais must've been appalled.  The show went almost an hour before a Charlie Sheen joke. 

Helena Bonham Carter was far more conservative this year. Simple, elegant Bride of Frankenstein. Oh sure, there was the Union Jack garter belt, but who doesn’t wear one of those?

In the annual “Worst Dressed besides Helena” category I would have to say Sharon Stone. Grey beaver pelts over one shoulder is not a good look. James Franco in drag was more appealling. Although, what the hell was that pointless bit about? It’s like all of a sudden out of nowhere there’s a salute to Uncle Miltie.

Mila Kunis was an absolute vision in purple! But Jennifer Lawrence in her sleek red dress won my vote for best dressed. If she wore that in WINTER’S BONE I would have gone to see it. Same with Mila and BLACK SWAN. Aw, who’m I kidding? I still wouldn’t see BLACK SWAN.

Aaron Sorkin’s win should give hope to Reese Witherspoon. He came back from STUDIO 60. So can you! It was just one bad movie, Reese.

The guy who wrote all of the King’s speeches, David Seidler, had a lovely one himself for winning Best Original Screenplay. At 73, he’s the oldest writer to win this award. I expect his agency to take out a full-page congratulatory ad then drop him.

The INCEPTION screenplay was hurt somewhat by the fact that it was a confusing mess.

It’s odd to see a film win all the cinematography and special effects awards and not have the director be at least nominated. If just… part of the movie made sense, the first half hour, the opening credits, anything!

Imagine a double bill of INCEPTION and MATRIX 3? Heads would explode.

What was that pillow on the back of Sandra Bullock’s dress? Was she planning on having dinner at Yamata’s afterwards?

I don’t have a great feeling about Christian Bale’s marriage. Forgetting your wife’s name during your acceptance speech in front of a billion people generally is a warning sign.

It was a good year for mothers, though. Director Tom Hooper revealed that his mother found THE KING’S SPEECH project, longtime writer Dave Seidler’s mother always claimed he was “a late bloomer”, and the NYU kid who won for Best Short thanked his mom for providing the craft-services.

Michelle Williams was so pale that her white dress actually added color.

One of the great moments in Oscar history: the announcement that ABC has renewed its affiliation with the Motion Picture Academy. We cheered where I was. I'm sure you did, too.   

I was fine with Trent Reznor wearing a tuxedo, but come on, dude, cover it with chains.

Meanwhile, Randy Newman proves that perseverance does pay off. He claimed his second Oscar in twenty tries. And it just goes to show – you keep writing the same song year after year and eventually it’s going to win.

The Best Short Documentary Award should be re-titled: “Best Short Documentary about inspiring children or the ravages of war”. Do a film actually showing aliens landing on Earth, you got no shot unless it’s in Iraq or the playground of a day school in Harlem.

The Best Feature Length Documentary went to INSIDE JOB, a study of the recent economic collapse. I’m surprised they didn’t thank Bernie Madoff.

How come the winner of the Best Costume Design always looks like a schlump?

Watching Billy Crystal deliver that painfully desperate monologue was like looking at the nude photos of Nancy Sinatra in Playboy that she took when she was 54.

Donald Trump was in attendance – a grim reminder that one year you could be an Academy Award winner and the next you’re on CELEBRITY APPRENTICE manning a lemonade stand with Jose Canseco.

So President Obama thinks “As Time Goes By” is the greatest Oscar winning song. I was so hoping he'd say, “It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp”?

I loved seeing one of the Coen Brothers nodding off during Oprah’s speech. Good luck seeing any of their movies on the mighty OWN network.

Why can Jude Law make Robert Downey Jr. drug bust jokes but not Ricky Gervais?

Melissa Leo wore Elvis’ last suit.

Okay, I know there’s something wrong with me but I always look forward to the In Memoriam feature. Come on, you do too. When you watch with a group of people don’t you all go “Awwwwwww” after seeing one person or another? In the group I was with, everyone was also going “Jewish!” “Not Jewish!” “Jewish!” “Definitely Jewish!”

Don’t you also try to catch them omitting somebody? And try to figure out who the big last one is? This year it was appropriately Lena Horne. (Vegas took a bath. They had Blake Edwards 2:1).

I wonder though why they needed Halle Berry to come out and give a tribute to Lena Horne. They could have easily just gone from Celine Dion singing “Smile” to the film clip of Lena singing “Smile”. That said, Halle looked radiant. She may not be the most beautiful woman in the world but she certainly is the most beautiful crazy woman in the world.

If you’ve set your DVR, no matter how late into the broadcast you start, by the last half hour you’ve caught up to real time and have to suffer through the commercials.

I was so hoping graffiti artist Banksy had won for EXIT TO GIFT SHOP. Can’t you just picture it? He comes down the aisle in his gorilla mask. Six officers arrest him on stage. He gives his speech. It’s long. The play-off music begins. He continues talking. He’s tasered. “Coming up next, Anne Hathaway introduces Jennifer Hudson who introduces Gwyneth Paltrow!”

How come no Barbara Walters Special this year? I was really looking forward to her interviewing superstars Natalie Portman, Christian Bale, and Stana Katic.

The Best Actor intros were just excruciating. No one takes themselves more seriously than thespians. In those insufferable introductions I must’ve heard the following words at least five times: depth, journey, courageous, range, love for the craft, love for the art, artist, empathy, extraordinary, inspiration, gift, power, eloquence. Just remember, actors are the only people who watch James Lipton on INSIDE THE ACTORS’ ASSHOLE and don’t laugh.

If ever there was a lock it was Colin Firth. See that Reese? This is a man who was in MAMMA MIA! You can come back!

Are they now going to remake the trailer for NO STRINGS ATTACHED starring “Academy Award Winner, Natalie Portman”?

I found it interesting that for all the hype about trying to make the broadcast younger and hipper, at the end of the day, Kirk Douglas stole the show. Hathaway and Franco and Eisenberg and Adams and Cruz and Paltrow and Gyllenhaal and Gyllenhaal may be movie stars but Kirk is still fuckin’ Spartacus.

(Thanks to Annie Levine & Jon Emerson for providing some of the best lines of this review.)

See you at the movies. Unless I get screeners.

Relive your favorite snarky Oscar moments of the past

Tonight's the big night. My annual review follows tomorrow. But to get you in the mood, here are some snippets from my Oscar reviews over the last few years. Yes, I know. Mee-ow.

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

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

The night was summed up perfectly by one of the idiot Red Carpet show hosts when he said, “This is what the Oscars is all about. All ages, all ethnicities, coming together to look their best.”

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry Robert Downey Jr. lost for Best Supporting Actor for his work in TROPIC THUNDER. He’d have more Oscars as an African-American than Will Smith.

As usual in Hollywood it’s all about marketing. THE READER: come for the sex, stay for the Holocaust.

Why do they have to tell us every year what Costume Designers do? Who thinks that Keira Knightley wore her own street clothes in THE DUCHESS?

My daughter Annie has a good rule. No movie over three hours should be eligible for Best Editing.

Sid Ganis, the President of the Academy, gave an impassioned speech on storytelling and the need for Hollywood to strive for excellence. Mr. Ganis is the producer of DEUCE BIGELOW: MALE GIGOLO.

Al Gore and Cher have more Oscars than Johnny Depp.

How do I describe Cameron Diaz’s dress? It’s like if you tried to gift-wrap a vacuum cleaner.

Nancy Meyers, a notorious writer-killer and credit-grubber, did a lovely piece on how writers were depicted in films.

KING KONG was a technical triumph. But maybe they should have devoted five less minutes to the effects and focused on the story. Case in point (one of MANY): this film crew goes to a remote island, discovers DINASOURS and brings back a big ape instead. Huh????

I heard “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” and didn’t know whether it was a Best Song nominee or an academy tribute to Harvey Weinstein.