Let's See The Oscars Top This!!!

Didn't get to see much of this year's Oscar telecast or the red carpet nonsense, but it didn't really matter because here in Rochester, NY, the awards season has also hit fever pitch (Why not? Kodak, which is headquartered here, is rapidly going down the tubes, so there isn't much else to get excited about.), culminating with the pinnacle of awards events. I'm referring, of course, to -- you guessed it -- Miss Biddle's Annual Second Grade Elementary School Awards...

Each year seems to bring some new surprises, and 2012 was no exception. This year's race was probably the closest ever in the "Outstanding Achievement in seeing who can go the longest without crying for no apparent reason" category. This year, little Tiffany Gottlieb just eked out the win over Tracy O'Malley by a teardrop.... Her record was a seemingly superhuman two hours, 42 and a half minutes... Unfortunately, during her acceptance speech she completely broke down, thus forcing the judges to nearly pull the award when they began to  reconsider whether or not she actually deserved it in the first place.

In another highly-visible competition this year, Little Billy Ives ran away with the honors in the "No pulling his female classmates' pigtails" category. Of course, we'll see how well he's able to maintain his sense of self-control and will power in a few years when he gets to seventh grade and is up for the "No pulling his female classmates bra straps" award.

On a sad note, everyone paused for a moment of silence to remember Whitney... No, not Whitney Houston; Whitney, the class's pet goldfish who accidentally got flushed when they were changing the water in the aquarium a couple of weeks ago.

One final thing: the awards weren't as well attended this year by outsiders as in the past. With the new security measures that have been put in place at the school, a lot of grandparents were turned away at the door when their artificial hips set off the metal detectors.

At any rate, a good time was had by all, and when it was over everyone, winners and losers alike, let down their hair and set down their backpacks at The Principal's Ball at Chuck E. Cheese... And in the words of Miss Biddle (as she coincidentally also tells those who don't make it into the third grade): "Thanks for coming! See you next year!"

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon

Hey Regis, How's That Retirement Thing Working Out For You?

This weekend marks three monhs since that icon of daytime TV, Regis Philbin, left LIVE WITH REGIS AND KELLY, and left us all (hopefully as far as he was concerned) begging for more.

Well, like anyone who has left a longstanding job and is finally settling in for some time off during those golden years,  I got to wondering how ol' Reege might be making out.  You may recall when he left that he never said he was retiring -- only that he was leaving the show and  would be back with another project -- or two -- or none.

But just as we saw happen  with Johnny Carson,  there's been nary a sign of our  beloved Irish Italian TV personality since that fateful day in November, when Regis' TV career suffered the same fate as our Thanksgiving turkeys would the following week.  So  I got to wondering how things were going for him since then, and thanks to some "inside" info (inside my head), I found out the following which I think is important to relate to any Regis fans out there:

********************

... It started about a week or so later after  the big finale.  Oh, sure, he believed that he was going to be fine and there wouldn't be any problem making the  big adjustment to staying home all day with nothing more important to do than fill out the NY Times crossword puzzle and try to figure out how the remote control for the TV works... But then came the late night insomnia, the long walks during the wee small hours of the morning, padding around the dark halls and corridors of his apartment, clad oly in a loose-fitting robe and slippers (or less) looking at the pictures, honors and awards hanging there on the walls and talking to the portraits of Knute Rockne, Lou Holtz and Robert DeNiro (just as Nixon did in the White House during Watergate) -- hoping that somehow, some way, one of them would answer back... 

He stops in front of the portrait of Lou Holtz.

"Lou, I'm telling ya, I can't take it.  There's nobody to talk to, nobody to harrass, no one to make fun of!  Not even that damn wheel that I had installed that drops from the celing for me to spin whenever the phone rings is doing it for me!"... 

 He pads down the hallway and pauses for a moment in front of Knute.

"Knute, you're the greatest!  Tell me, what would it take for me to be the greatest again?... I mean when it came to daytime TV, I was it -- the tops!...  No one could tell a better silly story than me, no one could  bitch and complain about their family members better than me, no one could  do such a great job of making a total ass out of himself in front of millions of people on a daily basis than me!  I tell you I was The King at doing that stuff, baby, The King!"

On to DeNiro. 

"Bobby, you gotta tell me -- what do I have to do to get back on TV again?  I mean one shot on Rachael Ray since I left?  That's not gonna cut it for me, Bobby!  This boy needs some ACTION!... Letterman won't let me on...   I can't even get Kathie freakin' Lee to give me two measly minutes on that winefest that she and that Hoda or Yoda or whatever the hell her name is do every day!  And do you think that The Donald will return my calls? I mean, just one little shot on THE APPRENTICE for Godsakes!  What the hell do I have to do to get him to notice me again --  run for President?...  I tell you, I'm dyin' here, Bobby, I'm dyin'!  I gotta go back in that bedroom  now with nothing more to look forward to than spend the rest of the night lying there wide awake with the sound of Joy snoring directly into my EAR!  It's like listening to the ocean all night long -- and you know how afraid I am of water!"...

As daylight dawns, following his usual routine breakfast of dry toast, runny eggs and a glass of Benefiber, he's drawn into  what has now become an addictively habitual behavior. 

He picks up the phone, dials and waits for someone to answer.

..."Hello, Gelman?... It's me.... Whaddya mean, 'Who's me?'... It's REGIS!... Gelman, don't tell me you don't recognize my voice, Gelman!  It's only been three months... And after all those messages I left that you didn't respond to?....  Look, Gelman I'm asking you for the last time --  you've  got to  let me back on the show!... Yeah, well I don't care if you're considering  Josh Groban or George Clooney as cohost.  I don't care if you're considering Jesus Christ or Larry the freakin' Cable Guy  for Godsake!... Gelman, I can't take it any more!  I turn on the TV in the morning -- that is when I can figure out how to work the damn remote -- and  I'm not there!  All there is to watch is trash, Gelman, trash!  I'm telling you, who wants to see Snooki from The freakin' Jersey Shore preparing a dinner party on MARTHA STEWART,  or Joan Rivers making fun of what Elton John wore to last night's awards show?  Gelman, that's not TV, it's garbage!.... Tell me, Gelman, who was the real star on LIVE?  Who held that show together all those years?  Who went  to management and saved your sorry skinny ass more often than anyone will ever know?... Tha-a-at's right, Gelman!  It was me, baby, old Regis!...  I'm tellin' ya, Gelman, what America needs more than ever right now is THIS -- The King, baby -- The King!!... Hello?.... Hello?.... "


He  slowly puts the phone back down in its cradle as he realizes the inevitable has happened, and quietly sobbing to himself, mutters softly "Is this the freakin' end of Regis?"....


Hey, Reege, a word of advice:  Enjoy your money and your time.  And if you really need something to do that badly, Walmart is always looking for greeters.

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."


-- Thomas Pynchon

Why Does January Always Have To Behave Like January?

Some of you may remember the hit song by The Mamas and the Papas called “Monday, Monday.” The song describes a day that starts out perfectly and with great promise, and then just goes right downhill from there.

Well, now that we’re just about finished with January 2012, I started thinking the same thing about the past 31 days, and that January, being the first month of the year should hold such promise for us -- but by about mid-month when the “blahs” set in, we start to come to the conclusion that this month isn’t going to offer any better fortune than any other month -- and sometimes even worse.

Maybe part of it is that here in the northeastern US, we‘ve been dealing with minimal sunshine since mid-November and the dull grey days are finally starting to turn us all into psychos (for a look at my post on some suggestions I made for dealing with Seasonal Affective Disorder, you can go here).

Not only that, but sometimes January offers some unexpected surprises. For instance, when I lived in Los Angeles, the Northridge Earthquake happened in January. For me, nothing said “Welcome to 1994!" like feeling the ground constantly shake beneath your feet for about 24 hours straight.  And just this month, one of the bulwarks of my home town, Kodak was hit with a triple whammy -- they declared bankruptcy, were delisted on the New York Stock Exchange, and found out that The Motion Picture Academy is going to move the Oscar ceremonies from the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood to another venue.

Some other things that have happened, or occur regularly in January:

1. New Year’s Day -- just ask anyone who’s had a hangover from New Year’s Eve. Nice way to get the year off to a great start, right? -- not being able to remember the night before, and then not being able to wake up and remember what year it is the next day.

2. Here in the northeastern US, some of our worst blizzards have occurred in January: the Blizzard of ‘66, the Blizzard of ‘77, etc. I’m sure the trend will continue -- until the time when global warming turns January into a virtual blast furnace -- in which case then we’ve got a whole other problem during the month to worry about.

3. The Buffalo Bills, my home team here in Western New York, lost all four Super Bowls during the month of January. Anyone who’s a football fan whose team has been on the losing end of a football score in January -- college or pro -- can understand the feeling of utter despair and finality.

3. George W. Bush was inaugurated President in January -- twice -- even though no one will admit to having voted for him. (Of course this can go the other way also, depending on your political leaning; on the other hand, presidential elections are held in November, so I guess an argument could be made for that month being somewhat of a downer too.)

4. The moment sometime during the month that you suddenly realize how unrealistic and unattainable all the New Year’s resolutions you made were going to be, at which point you immediately set out on your own self-imposed guilt trip.

I could go on but there’s probably too many other reasons to list, and you can probably come up with plenty of your own. The point is, inevitably, having to start a new year by dealing with what occurs during January opens us all up for a huge amount of sadness and disappointment.

What to do, what to do?

Well, frankly, my friends the solution to dealing with all the surprises, mishaps and letdowns of January is surprisingly simple:

Let’s just get rid of it! That’s right --  let's do away with January altogether! Go straight from December 31 right to February!

Just think of some of the possibilities that eliminating January could accomplish:

1. No more New Year’s Day hangovers, to start with. You haven’t missed all the fun, festivities, parades and football because New Year’s Day didn’t happen and there weren’t any to miss! And even if you did happen to get plastered on Dec. 31, there isn't much worth trying to think about or function for on the first of February.

2. You can forget about making any New Year’s resolutions that you’re likely to have either completely abandoned or forgotten about by January 15. There'll be no more January to try and start implementing them.  Just think: no more  starting the year with built-in excuses for guilt trips and feeling sorry for yourself when you screw up!

3. Winter would be four weeks shorter, and it wouldn't matter whether Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow on Groundhog Day or not. As far as I'm concerned, he could stay in his burrow and sleep.

4. The NFL Playoffs can skip all the preliminary rounds, since now that the Super Bowl is played on the first Sunday in February, there’s no four week wait and three weeks or preliminary rounds just to see your favorite team go down to defeat -- the two teams with the best records in each conference will automatically go directly to the championship.

5. All those Christmas bills that come due in January? The hell with 'em! -- Since there is no January, you don’t have to worry about paying any!

6. Anyone who has a birthday that falls in January can treat it the same way that people who are born on Leap Year Day do -- either celebrate it on the last day of December, or on the first day of February -- or ignore it all together, thereby never allowing yourself to get any older, which should really be a boost for attendance at cougar singles bars all over the country.

So those are just some of the advantages I see about doing away with Month Number One every year.

Now you may be asking by this point “Tom, that sounds like a fantastic idea, but how do we accomplish this?”

Who knows? Maybe by a simple proclamation, maybe by a constitutional amendment -- or maybe even via a groundswell protest movement such as “Occupy Wall Calendars” (“OWC”?) where people take to the streets chanting stuff like “We are the 99 percent who refuse to be bullied by January!”

The fact of the matter is that regardless of how we manage to achieve it, one way or another, the month of January needs to go!

Anyway, enough ranting. Let’s hope that next year, January either shapes up or ships out!

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."


-- Thomas Pynchon

Top 10 Things You Don't Want To Hear When You Go In For An Angiogram

This has been an interesting year for me, health-wise. In March, I underwent a hip replacement (see my blog post about it here), and spent a good portion of the year afterwards recovering and rehabbing, rebuilding strength in my hip and leg with exercises and walking, which I tried to maintain on a regular basis until the cold weather set in this past autumn.

My laying off the exercise started to have its effect though, since after Thanksgiving I discovered I had put on a few extra pounds, so I started back on the walking regimen again. It was then that I began to experience some tightness and discomfort in my chest during my strolls.

A previous angiogram several years ago had turned up an artery that was partially blocked but not so badly that there was any major concern at the time. However this time, even though the tests revealed no significant changes, based on my symptoms, my doctor felt that another angiogram was in order just to be safe before it became an emergency situation. So the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I spent two days in the hospital undergoing the procedure, and a stent was implanted in the troublesome artery via a catheter inserted through my right wrist. (Modern medical nanotechnology is truly incredible.) Went home the next day and I’m fine -- thanks for asking!

Unfortunately, any time you’re in the hospital, as caring and reassuring as hospital staff try to be, there are always a few things you might hear -- or overhear -- that would tend to give you pause, if not downright concern. And so, just to prepare you in case you may eventually be facing the same situation I went through sometime in your own future, I thought I’d offer:

TOP 10 THINGS YOU DON’T WANT TO HEAR WHEN YOU GO IN FOR AN ANGIOGRAM

10) ”Hi, I’ll be doing the procedure, and I don’t mind telling you right up front that I faint at the sight of blood.”

9) “Hey, wanna have some fun? Let’s sever this here and reconnect it over there and see what happens!”

8) “Obamacare, Oshmamacare! Lie still!”

7) “Oh, I’m an old hand at this sort of thing -- I used to work for Roto Rooter.”

6) “You know, you were that close to me having to make a choice between not saving you and missing Dr. Phil.”

5) “Yeah, I know we were supposed to be aiming for the heart -- but I think we just hit his appendix.”

4) “Boy, I’ve seen some f***ed-up arteries in my life, but this one’s a Hall of Famer!”

3) “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. We learned how to do this by watching videos on YouTube.”

2) “Mr. Quigley, have you ever given any thought to becoming an organ donor -- and we need an answer immediately!"

AND THE NUMBER ONE THING YOU DON’T WANT TO HEAR WHEN YOU GO IN FOR AN ANGIOGRAM…

“Don‘t even think about hitting on the night nurse -- her boyfriend‘s a cop.”

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  "Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

                      -- Thomas Pynchon

 

Help! I’m Trapped In A Christmas Movie With Doogie Howser!

And no, it wasn’t a nightmare I was having. It actually happened. 

Shortly after Thanksgiving this year, I realized that people have been able to see little ol' me on TV (either on a network or cable channel) at this time of year every year since 1998, if you knew where to look. How you may ask, did I manage to accomplish that monumental feat?

Easy. Desperate for money, I signed with a couple of casting agencies in L.A. when I lived out there, and eventually ended up with a small part in a made for TV Christmas movie, THE CHRISTMAS WISH, starring Debbie Reynolds, Beverly Archer, a then unknown Naomi Watts and Neil Patrick Harris. When it finally aired for the first time in December of 1998, I was pleasantly surprised and relieved that the story was good and believable, unlike so many of those movies that are built around a disillusioned, disenchanted loser of a character, the phrase “You just have to believe!” and the light tinkly music that’s supposed to evoke a feeling of magic about the whole thing. (For a look at some ideas for made for TV holiday movies that should probably never be shown, you can go here.)

Further, the scene I was in had given me plenty of “face time” as they like to call it. and from what I can recall it was a pleasant experience, but also unique enough that I thought it might be an interesting story to tell about how it all went. So pull up an ice block and lend an ear.

To start with, the agency I signed with seemed to go out of their way to find interesting stuff for me to work on, so when the phone rang on a Friday in March of 1998, and my casting director asked if I’d be interested in playing an office Christmas party guest in a movie with Debbie Reynolds, how could I say no (almost as much out of wanting to do the damn thing just so I could say I was in a move with Debbie Reynolds as because I really wanted to pay my rent that month)?

“OK,” he told me and gave me directions on where to report and what my call time was. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “wear something that says ‘Christmas!‘”

Great, I thought. I didn’t even have a red pair of socks. And where the hell was I going to get any Christmas-type clothing in March?

Fortunately, I remembered the Salvation Army store that was located about two blocks from my apartment in Canoga Park (we were in the upscale section of town) so I headed over there and looked through their designer seconds and hand-me-downs to see if I could find an article of clothing -- a sweater, a vest, a pair of boxer shorts with reindeer and elves and jingle bells and candy canes on them -- anything that would fulfill the requirement.

I finally found a red necktie with a picture of Santa Claus embroidered into it which made him look like he had been run over by a truck -- maybe the previous owner had been -- and took it to the counter. The clerk took it out of my hands and looked at me kind of funny.

“Little bit late for this ain’t it, pal?” he remarked.

“Uh, it’s for a Christmas movie I’m in,” I stammered.

“Yeah, right. In March,” he replied as he began to ring it up a the $2 price marked on the tag.

“You don’t really know anything about the TV and movie business do you?” I countered. “There’s a lot of work that has to be done between the filming and when a show is broadcast. That’s why there’s such a long lead time.”

“Hey, pal, all I know is if THE SIMPSONS or SEINFELD isn’t on when the TV Guide says they’re supposed to be, I get pissed.”

I could see I was making no headway at all with this guy. Still, I decided to see if I could negotiate with him a little.

“Uh, any chance I might be able to get break on the price?” I asked. “After all, how many people are going to come into the store and buy a Christmas item at this time of year?”

“Hey. look, buddy -- whaddya think, I’m running a charity here or something?”

I was about to remind him of the name of his employer, when I decided it wasn’t worth it to get into a hassle over a $2 tie I was only going to wear once in my life.

He finished ringing the tie up -- for $2, wadded it up into a ball and put it in a bag, then tossed it over at me. “There you go, pal -- Merry Christmas!”

I squeezed the bag tightly in an effort to relieve myself of the desire to want to smack him one, then quietly turned and headed toward the door.

But he wasn’t done. Needing to get one final shot in, I heard him deliver a laugh tinged with sarcasm followed by “Man, what idiot would be stupid enough to make a Christmas movie in the middle of March?” .

I started to turn around and reply “Maybe the same type of idiot that thinks the best way to collect money is to set a red kettle out in front of the local Walmart every December,” but kept my mouth shut, as I left the store and drove out of sight as fast as I could.

With my main requirement for this film out of the way, I waited for the weekend to pass. 

Unfortunately, weekends in February and March in Los Angeles are about as chilly and rainy as you can get, and when I had to report for my call time on set the next Monday, I had come down with one of the worst colds in my life -- but I had my damn Christmas tie on!

So, armed with a duffel bag full of cough drops, cough syrup, Kleenex, decongestant pills and Alka-Seltzer cold medicine, I arrived at the locale, an old warehouse just south of downtown Los Angeles that had an upstairs office paneled in dark stained oak where the scene was going to be filmed, modestly and tastefully decorated for Christmas, including a tree. The office evoked the feeling of being in the old Bailey Building & Loan from IT‘S A WONDERFUL LIFE, which I think was the point, since the story involved the passing of Neil Patrick Harris’ character’s grandfather and the real estate business he had owned for many years.

The area where the extras were going to be kept (gee, it almost sounds like we were animals in a zoo -- Matt Damon, where are you when we need you?) was in a large hallway/foyer off of the office and on one wall a double glass door opened to a rooftop terrace.

After getting my wardrobe approved, navy blue pinstripe suit, white shirt and my Santa Claus tie ("Jeez, where'd you get that tie -- the Salvation Army?"), I went back to the holding area to wait to be called for blocking and rehearsal, and immediately blew my nose, downed four cough drops, three tabs of Sudafed, two Alka-Seltzer tablets, and possibly even a partridge in a pear tree -- I‘m not sure. By that time my head was so stuffed up I barely knew where I was. So I sat there and waited.

At last the assistant director came out and called all the extras in. It was then that I discovered that the production company and the whole crew were Australian. Everywhere I turned I heard people talking like Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. (“Crikey! Oim gowing to approwch this lawge venomous Christmas tree veary keahfully!”) But at least they all spoke English, so even if I didn‘t understand half of what they said I could always respond with “Roight, mate -- that Faustih’s is a hell of a beeah!” and stay on their good side.

The crew went around pairing up people who seemed a good fit as couples, and boy, didn’t I hope that they were going to pair me up with the cute petite redhead I saw on set in the red sweater. But for some reason, the script dictated that they pair Naomi Watts with Neil Patrick Harris (boy, if we only knew then what we all know now!). In actuality, I didn’t even know who Naomi Watts was at that time. Even if you did know who she was, you wouldn't have recognized her with the  short red hair and the American accent.  This was 1998, and she hadn’t yet made a feature movie in the United States, so here she was doing a made for TV movie (for the same reasons, no doubt, as me -- she needed to pay the rent).

Eventually, I was partnered up with a perfectly lovely lady named Judy, a middle-aged blonde, who towered over me in her three-inch heels. I was 5’7”, and with my cold and medicine exaggerating everything, she looked to me like she was 7’1”. The director and crew blocked out our positions so they could get camera angles, then a rehearsal, then -- they shot the scene!

Well, not really. They just did the opening shot (which I’m in, you can see me taking a a cookie off the tray being offered to me by Judy -- not to be confused with Judy your Time-Life operator, by the way -- remember her?). Following that shot, the director called for a break and we all went back out in the foyer again. Time for more medication.

It was then that I saw Doogie himself, Neil Patrick Harris (or was it a hallucination? My brain wasn’t functioning too well by that point -- I chalked it up to one too many throat-numbing cough drops) as he entered the foyer and, blowing past the extras, headed straight for the set.

When they called us back on set, there he was, as ready as any Shakespearean actor to recite his lines. But first, more blocking and rehearsal. Then, in the film’s critical moment, he jumps up on a desk in the office and gives a speech to the crowd at the party.

I was expecting maybe something on the order of Henry V’s St. Crispin’s Day speech. But what we got was Neil Patrick Harris -- not the HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER “Barney” Neil Patrick Harris, but a young man who was gently explaining an important decision he had made to the guests in the room, all very understated and calm. In my head I’m thinking “Wonder how many years I’d have to work as an extra to make what he just got for jumping up on that desk?”

That part of the scene having been filmed to the satisfaction of the director (“Crikey! That one was a beauty!”), we were sent back to the foyer. I found my chair and duffel bag. And I immediately blew my nose and popped another cough drop into my mouth.

It was then that I saw something that I wished had never passed before my eyes. Yes, my friends -- Hollywood, the town where make-believe becomes real, can be a hard and cruel place sometimes. What I saw was Neil Patrick Harris heading toward the double glass doors, opening them, taking a half-step out onto the terrace -- and lighting up a cigarette! I started to think that I’d taken four or five too many Sudafeds that morning. This couldn’t be! Doogie Howser, M.D., smoking?!

By that point though I felt so lousy that I told myself that I’d do anything to feel better. We’d barely gotten a quarter of the scene filmed yet and I already felt like I was going to pass out -- not to mention the terror I felt about possibly letting out with a humongous sneeze during filming -- and having it land somewhere in a spot that would be very embarrassing for Naomi Watts to have to clean off.

In my overmedicated stupor, I thought to myself “Look, Doogie Howser M.D. is standing right over there. No one is bothering him. Why don’t you just go over and ask him if he’s got any advice for dealing with a cold?”

As my mind let the effects of the medicine take over, I imagined that I boldly stood myself up as best as I was able without keeling over face first, strode over to him and asked him “Pardon me, Dr. Doogie, but I watched you for years. Have you got any advice for someone with a really bad cold?” I started to come back to my senses when I imagined what his answer to me probably would have been -- either “Yeah, sure -- here, have a cigarette,” or “Tell you what. Take two aspirin and call your agent in the morning.”

One more call back to the set and then it was time for lunch. It was then I got to sit with members of the crew and talk about some of the technical aspects of the film.

“Tell me, is this movie being shot in the regular 4:3 aspect ratio, or in letterbox?” I tried to sound as up to date and informed as possible.

“Uh huh,” was the answer I got. Gee, I thought, for Australian, that answer sounded awfully American. I tried another tact.

“ What kind of lights are they using outside the windows to simulate sunlight?”

“”Really broight ones.” Okay, one more try.

“I know that usually movies such as this generally have a fairly long shooting schedule. How long is the one for this? Three months? Six months?”

“Try 18 Days.” One of them, a guy about 6’3” 240 lbs. and wearing a tool belt full of medieval-looking utensils around his waist stood up and glared at me “Hey, what awh yew, a fuckin’ network guy or something?”

I picked up my tray and moved to another table.

The highlight of the afternoon’s shooting was the arrival of the grand lady herself, the legendary Miss Debbie Reynolds. A dynamo full of energy, she stood barely five feet tall, but created enough electricity in the room to light up half the city of Los Angeles.

Now here’s where the fantasy of making a film gets interesting. The director wanted to do a two-shot of Debbie and Neil talking with each other while the other party guests walked back and forth past and around them. The only problem was, we were working on a hard polished wooden floor, and their dialogue would most certainly be drowned out by the clicking and clacking of our shoes as we walked past them.

So before they started shooting, the assistant director told us “Okay, everyone off with your shoes!” Personally, I thought that the scene would have been infinitely more appealing and enjoyable to watch if he had told us “Okay, everyone off with your clothes!” but this was CBS they were filming for, not HBO. We shot that part of the scene with everyone walking -- or sliding in some cases, the floor was that slippery, in our sock feet. The one benefit to me was that my partner Judy had come down from being 7’1”, and she and I were now the same height.

For the final shots of the scene, Judy and I were paired together again and the director placed us where he wanted us to be. We finished the parts of the scene that Debbie Reynolds appeared in and then did one last shot with Naomi and Neil talking to each other (and with yours truly with my back to the camera who you can see just behind and between them.)

“Great!” I thought. “Now I can go home, get to bed and try and sleep this damn cold off.”

Wrong! Now we had to do what is known in the business as a “wild track,” meaning, while they were recording audio only, we all had to make sounds like we were guests at an office Christmas party -- conversation, laughter, general background noise -- so they could add those sounds in under the dialogue in post-production. “God,” I prayed, “don’t let me sneeze now.”

While the crew set up the audio equipment and microphones, Debbie Reynolds was giving us a free performance of her own. She started doing a drunk character which had us all in stitches, and I thought to myself that she’s either suddenly started channeling her daughter Carrie -- or she had seen me toss down a couple of capfuls of Robitussin, because by that point, I was feeling about as loopy as she was acting.

Ultimately, we got the wild track recorded and the director told us we were finished, thanked us for our work and let us go. How I got home, I don’t know. Call it a Christmas miracle in March. I certainly don’t remember driving it -- or what type of carpet I may have flown on.

This year marks the first year that the movie didn’t air on either a network or cable channel since 1998, but fear not, it's still available on DVD through Amazon and EBay (if you really feel the need  to see it that badly).

My scene comes about three-quarters of the way through, and you can spot me fairly easily: (1) opening shot where I‘m taking a cookie off a tray held by my partner; (2) standing with my partner behind and to the left of Naomi Watts, reacting to Neil Patrick Harris’ speech; (3) standing with my back to Naomi and Neil as they face each other at the end of the scene -- I’m the guy you see between them.

I never did get to ask NPH for any advice on how to deal with a cold, nor did I personally meet Debbie Reynolds or Naomi Watts that day. But I’ll never forget the experience -- that is, what my overmedicated, infirmity-addled brain can recall of it to start with -- and for me, I’ll always fondly treasure and remember it as “A Very Doogie Christmas.”

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"God Bless us, everyone!"

                      -- Tiny Tim

"You're fired!'

                   -- Tiny Trump

Good-bye Black Friday, Hello Poorhouse Saturday

Well, now that we've all had a chance to digest our Thanksgiving meal (at least most of it) and wasted all our energy over the weekend trying to grab one of those $2 waffle makers from Walmart without being pepper-sprayed, it's time to wonder what other horrors lie ahead for us during the rest of the Christmas shopping season.

But instead of just attempting  to spell it out for you in all its naked unadulterated gruesomeness, thought I'd do it in a manner that keeps to the spirit of the holiday; so if you don't mind, here is my own special Christmas song...

Carol Of the Bills

(sung to the tune of "Carol Of the Bells")

(verse the first)

Ding... Dong!... Ding... Dong!...

Ding... Dong!... Ding... Dong!...

Now that the Christmas season is here

Finish your shopping, be of good cheer.

All the stores were open at 12 A.M.

You walked in to spend all that you can.

Thought I could save running all around,
Only to find my Internet is down.

Dozens of those, armfuls of these.

Just make damn sure they're not Chinese.

Use whatever payment method is best,

MasterCard, Discover, American Express.

I-Phone for Susie, Xbox for Timmy.

All you ever hear is "Gimme, gimme, gimme!"

"Gimme, gimme, gimme that for Christmas!"

"Gimme, gimme, gimme that for Christmas!"

Here come the bills, now I have to pay.

They couldn't wait 'til after Christmas day.

I've had it up -- to about here.

Already dreading Christmas next year.

Ding dong ding... dong...

(verse the second)

Ding... Dong!... Ding... Dong!...

Ding... Dong!... Ding... Dong!...

Now comes the fun, wrapping all of it.

Just cut my finger, bleeding won't quit.

Don't think I'll finish, I'm very tired.

Just read the words "ASSEMBLY REQUIRED."

Late Christmas Eve, I'm in a fog.

Oh, just remembered! Nothing for the dog!

No stores are open -- I'm in a mess.

Wait just a moment, there's a CVS!

They're about to close. Make a mad dash!

Eighty dollar chew toy, I'm all out of cash.

By 10 A.M. it'll be in pieces.

Oh, what the hell, put it on the Visa.

Put it, put it, put it on the Visa.

Put it, put it, put it on the Visa.

Christmas has left me deep in the hole

I'd rather be at the South Pole.

I'm tired of being Santa's chief elf.

Think I'll just go buy something for my own damn self.

Ding dong, ding...

"I'm sorry sir, your card has been declined. But have a Happy Christmas anyway!"

Happy holiday shopping, everyone!

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Ten Commandments For The Twenty-First Century

I got to thinking the other day (always a dangerous thing for me, since usually when I do it, something ends up getting broken), that our world and our lives are so different from the world people knew 3000 years ago when the Ten Commandments were first given;  and I think that most people would agree that it's sometimes difficult to relate what we see happening around us to how those sacred words apply these days.  So  maybe it's time we tried to do a little revising of them, or at least make them more relevant to our world in the year 2011.

With that in mind,  I took it upon myself to try and do a little updating to see if the commandments might not be a little more relelvant to our world today and came up with:

Ten Commandments For The Twenty-First Century

1. I am the Lord thy God; thou shalt have no other gods before Me – this includeth anyone named Limbaugh, Beck, Cowell,  Oprah or Bieber. (Note: the only exclusion to this proscription is the use of the phrase “Clapton is God”  – if you look at my CD collection, he still is.)

2. Thou shall not make for thyself any graven image (I guess that means that this is the end of the line for that Merrill Lynch bull  -- I mean the one traipsing down Wall Street.)

3. Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. (Hooray! – Something that will finally forceth Joe Biden to keepeth his mouth shut!)

4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy – the one exception being the first Sabbath in February where two football teams shall commence combat at a neutral site while millions sit at home and imbibeth their favorite beverage, cheereth wildly and throweth things at their widescreen TVs. (In other words, it's Super Bowl Sunday -- knock your socks off!)

5. Honor thy father and thy mother – unless of course, thy last name happens to be Sheen, Lohan or Kardashian – in that case then, there is no amount of DIShonor that one cannot bring upon thy father and thy mother.

6. Thou shall not murder.  -- Heareth and remembereth, oh George W. Bush, for that's what we heard thee do to the English language for eight years.

7. Thou shall not commit adultery. (Gee, Charlie Sheen hath made it into TWO references on this list!)

8.“Thou shall not steal” shall be forthwith rewritten as “Thou shall not pull a Bernie, ” as in "Madoff." This supersedeth a previous revision of this commandment which would have been operative at the beginning of the century, “Thou shall not pull an Enron.”

9. Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor – unless thy neighbor is bearing false witness against thee, in which case the applicable procedure is to follow the dictum “Do unto others – then get out of town.”

10.Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's house or thy neighbor's wife, nor anything that is thy neighbor's; in addition, thou shall not flash thyself, expose thyself or touch thyself inappropriately, nor make lewd and lascivious remarks while standing out in thy front yard coveting thy neighbor's wife. (I guess sending lewd cell phone pictures of yourself would also be covered by this one, but only if you're a member of Congress.)

Well, I figure by now, Charlton Heston is probably rolling over in his grave. I'm just glad I won't be around to write one of these for the twenty-second century. I hate to think of what I'd have to come up with then.

EXTRA:

A few days ago I emailed some of you a list of submissions I'd made to this weeks' David Letterman online Top Ten list, “Top Ten Signs The World's Population Is Too Large,” and I told you I'd let you know if any of my submissions made it.

Sad to say, none of my submissions were included on the list (although I have had one used in the past). You can go here to see the ones that did make this week's list:

http://www.cbs.com/late_night/late_show/top_ten/contest.php

But since I thought I came up with some pretty good ones, I'm posting them here for your perusal. (BTW, I made one change after I sent my list out, since I submitted another entry that I thought was better than one I submitted originally).

TOP TEN SIGNS THE EARTH’S POPULATION IS GETTING TOO LARGE

10. Martha Stewart now opens her show with a regular cooking segment on how to prepare a gourmet meal for 500,000

9. Travel agents are starting to call Antarctica “That Getaway Place”

8. Brad and Angelina have just adopted the entire nation of Kenya

7. The number of Republicans running for President in the year 2024 is now estimated to be 10 million

6. Jesus returns to feed the multitude and discovers that this time, five loaves and two fishes just won’t do it

5. Chris Christie can't get a seat at the Hometown Buffet

4. Level of the world's oceans drops every time 40 million toilets are flushed simultaneously

3. Concerns about global warming have been replaced by concerns about global sweating

2. At this point, there are almost as many people as there are hairs on Donald Trump’s head

AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN THE EARTH’S POPULATION IS TOO LARGE…

Sarah Palin can see 7 billion people from her house

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon