Hash Tags and Eggs!

Whenever I see hash tags, it makes me hungry for breakfast at Dennys.

Hash tags are technology's way of telling me I don't really have a clue. I see them posted by others, I'll click on them and most of the time they take me to nothing. Other times, they'll take me to a Facebook page or some other page that is pertinent.

I have no idea. There are obvious tags, such as #mlb, if you are writing about anything dealing with major league baseball. That's pretty obvious. But what about more obscure pages? How would you know what hash tag to use? Its a mystery to me.

I would love it if you're talking to someone who isn't very good at describing what they're talking about and they could just say something like, "hash tag watermelon rinds". Then you push squeeze their nose, like a clown, and correct and concise information comes out. That would be cool.

The biggest problem I see with that would be spouses doing it to each other. Instant friction. But what if they each agreed to it? Wouldn't that improve communication and save time? It might even save some marriages. I think I'm on to something here.

Rumors are rampant about being able to stream human consciousness to a computer, much like in the movie, "Transcendence", starring Johnny Depp. If that can be done, certainly verbal hash tags are possible. Who knows? A hash tag world? George Orwell was way off base.

See you tomorrow.

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The Tonight Show!

I think it would be funny if one of the networks hired a group of gregarious psychics and do a show called "The Tomorrow Show.

There are many "Good Morning", "Good Day", late night shows such as "The Tonight Show", "Late night"... You get the idea. It would be cool if we had at least one show telling us what to expect tomorrow.

If psychics are for real, why hasn't it already happened? Think of the benefits! They could foretell all of the earthquakes that have recently hit, if gas prices will increase or decrease, if the Obamacare website will work... (apologies to my pro Obama friends)

We could even win money, because they could tell us who's going to win the big games tomorrow - or - which teams to pick on our March Madness Brackets. Everyone would make money except for the bookies, and who cares about them?

Putin's wife would have seen Vladimir's behaviors prior to the divorce, Toronto wouldn't have voted in Rob Ford, Governor Christie would not have closed the bridge... The benefits are seemingly endless!

The Tonight Show is so much better now that Jimmy Fallon has taken over. This guy is very funny. Better, in my opinion, than Leno ever was. David Letterman is still one of my favorites because he's wacky. You never know what he's going to do.

On Wednesday, this week, Lady Gaga was a guest on his show, and she invited the entire cast, crew and the studio audience to come over to the music hall across the street to hear her sing - and they did it! It was a sight to behold, and a huge comedy hit.

There are rumors that Letterman will retire at the end of next year, and I believe it. I think CBS is going to have to make a change to capture the younger crowds that are now LOVING the Tonight Show.

The cast of The Tomorrow Show could tell us who Letterman's replacement will be. I just thought of another great benefit for Catholics. No more waiting for the black or white smoke to indicate that a new Pope has been chosen or not. The psychics could just tell us.

The real question is, do we really want to know what tomorrow holds in our world? Do we want to know who's going to win the World Series or the Super Bowl? What will happen throughout the world tomorrow?

Yes!! At least I do. The real bets would become, "Are they going to be right" bets. The bookies are back in business. And the stock market? Can you imagine? I'm not knowledgeable enough about the impact all of the insider trading would have on the economy, but I know that some CEOs would start pounding the scotch before the night was over.

The Tomorrow Show? I think I'm going to pitch it. Who knows? The psychics do.

See you tomorrow.

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Marijuana Pizza!

In Vancouver, BC, someone invented and now serves marijuana pizza. Brilliant! Satisfy your habit and the munchies at the same time!

Since cannabis is legal in so many places now, it was going to happen. Somebody was going to put two and two together and develop one. Plus, with the short term memory loss many experience as a result of using weed, people are likely to forget they even ordered one and get another.

Whenever I was in the UK, I would order the weirdest pizza on the menu. You can get practically anything on a hand tossed pie. Usually I did it just to gross out a friend of mine. He wanted to find a Pizza Hut there. I know! A Pizza Hut while in a foreign land? Are you kidding me?

I traveled across Canada, from west to east, making stops in Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, Toronto and Montreal. Then I would head for Marseille, France and finally, Walsall in the UK five times in a year and a half. It was crazy, but I loved it!

In every city, I wanted to taste what the locals ate. To me, that was a huge part of the adventure. Everything was pretty tame in Canada until I got to Montreal. Famous for their smoked meats, I was delighted. Until I went to a mall one day. I wanted pizza and there was a place in the food court.

As I was standing in line, I couldn't tell what to order because everything was in French. So, I watched and listened to the people ahead of me and learned how to order a pepperoni pizza. I ordered one and the guy asked me a question, in French. I stood there staring at him like a deer in headlights and finally uttered "Oui s'il vous plaît", meaning yes please.

The guy turned around and put french fries (I guess they just called them fries) all over the pizza! I know! I was stunned. I looked around at others enjoying their pizza at the food court tables and noticed that more than half had fries, too. So, I paid for the pizza and decided to try it. It was delicious! Someone had actually found a delightful way to make pizza worse for you. Brilliant!

We all know that Canada has an abundance of amazing maple syrup. I had two experiences in Montreal with the syrup. My waiter at an upscale restaurant recommended I try the "Maple on a stick" for dessert. I did and it was delicious. He then showed me how they made the treats.

It was winter, so out in back of the restaurant there was quite a bit of snow. There was a small brick wall with a pretty thick coating of snow on it. The waiter then took a pitcher of syrup and poured a syrup all the way down the snow on the wall, then quickly took a lollipop stick and rolled it on top of the snow. The syrup stuck to the stick and rolled up into the maple on a stick.

In France, I learned quickly that they didn't serve a good "American Breakfast". They offered it at the hotel, but it was disgusting. Very runny scrambled eggs and barely cooked soft bacon. No thanks. I saw that most people were enjoying baguettes, cheese and some of the strongest coffee I've ever had. I grew to love this combination no matter how badly the baguettes sliced up the inside of my mouth.

I also tried the French food item that is still my favorite food. Escargot. I know! Snails? Really? Yes. Obviously, these are not garden snails, and if they're cooked properly and served in garlic butter... So delicious!

So, marijuana pizza? Why not? Maybe with some fries on top? Doritos? Who knows?

See you tomorrow.

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Cheater!

I thought about going into politics but I could never cheat on my wife.

You're Funny! You Should Be A Comedian!

Many women are attracted by men in powerful positions. Many men in powerful positions like to take advantage of those opportunities. We know about the exploits of Presidents Kennedy and Clinton, but we also know that there are many we don't know about.

Senators, corporate executives, professional athletes, movie and television stars, etc. There are so many affairs that are hushed up with money and promotions. Others are very public and people become famous without any talent.

Steve Garvey, who had the image of Mr. America when he was with the Los Angeles Dodgers, decided to go into politics. Bad move. Suddenly, news stories broke out about him fathering babies from different women. Dan Marino allegedly fathered a child quite a few years ago.

It's not my place to judge any of these people. We all do things that we later regret. The difference is that if I do something wrong, there will be no paparazzi at my front door.

Hollywood stars are notorious for having affairs. Leading men and women who have love scenes, working for months at a time away from home makes for the perfect storm. They can get away with nothing. Too many reporters, rumor mongers and even TV shows that are dedicated solely for entertainment love interests.

It's expected behavior for Hollywood stars. So much so, that we marvel at famous couples who stay together. Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, Alan Alda and his wife, who is not famous and... I'm sure there are more, but we don't hear about them because fidelity doesn't sell.

Arnold Schwarzenegger was no surprise. His womanizing is legendary, yet it was big news because it was a high profile marriage. Everyone was shocked when Bruce Willis divorced Demi Moore (this was before she adopted Ashton Kutcher). Willis defended himself by proclaiming that men are not wired for monogamy.

One thing is for certain. Affairs cause pain, even in Hollywood. The innocent spouse is impacted, along with children from the marriage. Remember how devastated Sandra Bullock was when Jesse James cheated on her? How about Brad & Jenn?

High profile relationships must certainly be difficult. Even when there's nothing going on, the couple will still wind up in the rumor mill. I guess it's to be expected, which is horrible. I wish the expectations were different, but the divorce rate is more than 50%, so high profile or not, there's a lot of hanky panky going on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running late for my marriage class with Tiger Woods.

See you tomorrow.

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Lights! Camera! Action! Get Me Out Of Here!

I'm glad I didn't become rich and famous in showbiz. I never have the pressure of making a comeback.

Anyone who has ever been in the wacky world of show business knows just how crazy it can be. If you stay in it long enough, you're likely to do some projects that you hope no one will ever see.

Once, I got a call to play a part in a brand new game show. All I was told was to show up at a studio in Hollywood and to bring a tuxedo. I was pretty stoked about it because if I'm going to be wearing a tux, I'll most likely be the host! Sweet!

So, I arrived at the studio and was greeted by someone who called me Mr. Mabbott and escorted me to the green room, which was filled with drinks and snacks of nearly every variety. So far, so good. Since this would be a dry run of the show, I brought my friends Ron and Joey to either watch or see if there was some role they could play.

In the green room, there were quite a few people, all waiting for the producer to come in and give us scripts. We waited and waited. Nothing happened. After an hour of just sitting there, the producer came in the room with Gypsy, the most popular drag queen in Hollywood. Uh oh.

We were finally given our roles. I was to be "Bag Boy", which meant that I would hold a large canvas bag with the contestants' prizes. If the contestant won during any part of the game, they would reach in the bag and pull out a gift.

Bag Boy? Are you kidding me? But you never know where any role might take you, so I decided to play the part. Bad choice. After we were in costume and make up was applied, we were briefed about the show.

It was called "Rip a New One" and Gypsy was the host. On the set, there was a circle made of - - toilets. Toilets!! I know! It was essentially musical chairs. While the music played, the contestants would walk in a clockwise inside the circle of toilets. When the music stopped, each contestant would sit down on the toilet in front of them.

The one who ended up at the toilet at the top of the circle was the winner of the round and could either pick out a prize from my bag, or pick out an envelope held by a character called "Miss Thang". It might be something good or something embarrassing they had to do.

I already knew I wanted no part of a show where contestants had to sit down on toilets. It got worse, I swear. We stuck around while the final edits were complete. Believe it or not, they dubbed in fart sounds that played each time the contestants sat down on a toilet.

There was a grand prize winner who got to pick out a nice prize from "Miss Thang". The last thing they told us was that the pilot was going to uploaded to a satellite and they were sure someone production company would pick up the show.

I prayed that no one would, but with so many horrible shows on cable at the time, you just never knew. Luckily, no one did, but I know it's still out there somewhere and to this day, I'm scared to death it will show up on some cable show.

I couldn't wait to get out of there. They said they would be in touch with me if someone picked up the show. The call never came. Thank God. A few weeks later, I was asked to be a guest on a pilot for a new talk show hosted by a complete unknown woman who's broken English made it nearly impossible to understand what she was asking. It's not going to be a good show when the guests keep saying, "Huh"?

Like I said, showbiz can be very good at times and the weirdest thing many times.

See you tomorrow.

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The Man Who Has Everything

What do you give to the man who has everything? Simple. Penicillin.

Its kind of like the joke where a man goes to the doctor, not feeling well. After tests, the doctor told the man that he had so many illnesses that he needed to be quarantined and fed a steady diet of pizza. "You mean pizza will cure me"? "Of course not", the doctor said. "It's the only thing that will fit under the door".

Its just difficult to buy for some people. Some people really don't need or want anything. My friend, Annette Gonzalez, is one of those people. She has made it clear that she has all she needs or wants, in terms of things. She would rather spend time with friends and loved ones.

I really like that outlook, and I feel the same way. I can't think of a single item, outside of a few basic clothing items, that I want. Nothing. Talking to my children, grandchildren, mother and siblings and dinner with friends and loved ones is all I need.

How about creating something the person loves? Many times, people love the fact that you went to the trouble of creating something just for them. That's a gift that will warm the heart and, unless it's butt ugly, will be cherished forever.

Let's face it, if you make something that resembles the ashtray that you made in second grade, best to hang on to it. My mother is someone who is easy to buy for. She appreciates the thought. It took me a couple of years, (I'm a little slow), to understand that she can't enjoy Hickory Farms baskets, due to dietary restrictions.

So, I send something different that I know will make her feel special. It doesn't take much. She lives too far away to go there, so something she can hang on the wall that says, "Only the best grandmas get promoted to Nana". She loves that kind of stuff. There were times when we couldn't send anything, but called, and that was enough for me. I feel the same way.

I don't get too hung up on the holidays. Don't get me wrong, I love the time spent with wonderful people, but just having been divorced a long time ago, I was invited for breakfast and gift giving at my in-laws home, which was very gracious of them, but left to spend the rest of the day alone.

Don't feel sorry for me. My point is that I was able to spend the morning with people that I love and I'm still a part of the family, to this day. So, I stopped by a gas station and bought a sandwich for Christmas dinner and spend the remainder of the day by myself, watching football and movies. And I was fine. I didn't sit around feeling sorry for myself.

So, this year, for Thanksgiving and Christmas, we'll invite friends and loved ones, and especially those who have no where to go. That, to me, is the best part of the season, although I also think it should be a year round effort.

Now, if you'll excuse me, a new pizza just came under the door and I'm famished.

See you tomorrow.

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Another Grand Child!

My grandmother was so weird, she thought the moon landing was fake but roller derby was real.

Yesterday, we learned that our seventh grandchild is on it's way and will arrive sometime in November! Very exciting! Its sort of strange for my wife because she's 18 years younger than me and we have no children of our own. So, having six grandkids with another on the way is wonderfully surreal for her.

Last year, I was able to spend a month with them. Half live in Mississippi and half in Georgia, so we don't get out there very often. Its about $1,000 just to get there. Money well spent, mind you, but its difficult to save that much. We'll do it, however, and go there for Thanksgiving. I can hardly wait!

Planes, traines and automobiles are also about the same price, when you factor in the car rental, gas and lodging along the way. Yes, a car rental. I would never take my own car on a long trip like that. If something goes haywire with the car, you just call the rental car company and they bring you a new one. Come to think of it, I think I'm going to rent a car to use at home, too.

The benefits are awesome! It would probably cost $800 a month or so, but when you get tired of having a particular car, you just go get a new one. Is it worth the extra money for the convenience? Yeah, buddy!

Of course you could do the same thing for free by car jacking, but eventually the price is substantially larger in obvious ways. So, I'll stick to renting. I know what you're thinking. Why not lease? Totally different concept. When you lease, you have to put a pretty substantial amount for a down payment, then you're limited to a certain amount of miles during the lease period.

This mileage rule puts enormous stress on you because you're afraid to drive any long distances because you're afraid of putting the extra miles on the vehicle. When the lease is up and you turn the car in, you always get hit with with so many hidden charges and fees, it makes it difficult to come up with a down payment for the next one. I'm still going with the rental.

But what about an accident? No problem! For approximately $300 a month, you can be fully insured! Imagine, you get in an accident and instead of having your car in the shop forever and paying exorbitant fees for the repairs, they just give you another car! Its brilliant!

See you tomorrow.

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Please Help Me!!

Last Saturday, we gave money to a guy on a street corner because his sign read, "Too ugly to prostitute".

As the man took the money, we told him his sign was great. He said, "Well, I can't take all of the credit, I saw it on the internet". As he jogged back to his corner, we noticed he had on fairly new jeans. What? The internet? New jeans? We've been hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Taken to school.

The man's sign offered up such a distraction, we completely missed the obvious signs that this guy was most likely a fraud. If we was a fraud, this makes me upset on a couple of levels. 1) He's taking money from people who think he's homeless, and 2) do we need to be entertained in order to give money to the homeless? Last year, I gave to a guy who's sign read, "I'll bet you can't hit my sign with a quarter". Again, a clever sign, so we laugh and give him money.

If we judge a person's need, based on the cleverness of a person's sign only, the people that really need the money will not get it, and that is a shame. I find that giving to homeless shelters, where these people can get food and get out of the cold is a better option, and I'm not alone in this thought process.

John Strossman, a reporter for Fox news, dressed up as a panhandler in New York City recently, using a couple of signs. One read, "I'm not going to lie to you, I want a beer". The other read, "Tired and hungry". He collected $90 that day, just sitting down and leaning against the building.

If you talk to homeless shelters, they advise against giving money to the panhandlers, for a couple of reasons. They say that giving money to the street corner guy just enables that person to continue their drug or alcohol habits or, the person is not homeless at all, just looking for the easy tax-free dollar.

Especially after what happened last Saturday, I'm much more inclined to give to organizations that truly help the homeless. The local shelters are always seeking donations for their guests, so you can be sure your money is put to good use.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put on my homeless costume and hit the streets. Our vacation is coming up soon and I could use a few extra dollars.

See you tomorrow.

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I Idiotic!

Pain is nature’s way of saying, “Don’t do that.” Painkillers are mankind’s way of saying, “Just watch me.”

Many of my friends have been "weekend warriors" and thank God for health insurance. We were not in shape, but thought we were invincible. I think most men think the same way, and that thought process gets us into trouble.

I've been injured so many times, I lost count. I remember deciding to play tackle football with some guys on a whim, which meant no practice. Just go play. Blood and guts give it your all. Release some stress on some poor, unsuspecting fool. I didn't plan on being the fool.

I lasted one play, the opening kick off. I never saw the guy coming. We kicked off, and I was just trying to get to the ball carrier. That's all I remember. I came to sometime later, much more humble, on a side line. I should have gone to the hospital, because I'm sure I had a concussion.

Another time, I thought it would be a great idea to play in a softball league. I played first base, and I will say that our team was awesome. Going into the final game before the playoffs, I was the only person in the league who had not made an error. We couldn't miss. Enter the invincible part.

We were playing defense with an air tight infield, which is what got us to that point. We were undefeated. Indestructible. An opponent hit a ground ball to third. Our third baseman was amazing at fielding and had a cannon for an arm. The problem was, he was not very accurate.

He made a diving stop and came up throwing. With my left foot on the bag, I completely stretched out for the throw. I caught the erratic throw, unaware that the batter was going to collide with my knee. Our left fielder heard my knee pop, it was that loud. It was the third out, so as I sat on the bench, my knee kept swelling. The manager tried to take me out of the game, but I would have none of that.

When our side was out, I got up to play first base, took a step, and fell flat on the ground. There was a nurse present, who took a brief look at the knee and told me there was no way I should even be walking on it. I watched the rest of the game - which we lost, due to many infield errors. The chemistry was now out of whack.

After the game, I drove 45 minutes home in a stick shift. I know! I didn't sleep that night, so my sister drove me to the doctor's office in the morning, where they took x-rays and determined that my leg was broken. I was laid up for three months. Oh, and our team lost in the playoffs in the first game. It wasn't that I was so good, we just had the right guys, playing the right positions.

Another time, I thought it would be a great idea to play softball with people I didn't know. I made horrible choices a good deal of the time. I had just smashed my left big toe at work and couldn't wear a shoe, so my idiotic brain decided it would be a great idea to play barefoot. I scored from second on a single, and as I sat down on the grass, a girl screamed very loud.

She said "Look at your foot!" I had run over a broken Pepsi bottle. Off to the ER, where I got stitches on the previously good foot. I hobbled worse than James Caan's character in "Misery". I was on crutches for two weeks. Idiot.

Weekend warriors will always be around, because we're morons and it's just what we do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find a pickup game of tennis.

See you tomorrow.

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Who's On First?

I might be paranoid, but I'm pretty sure my smart car and my smartphone are conspiring against me.

I think technology is advancing just a little too rapidly. Everything is connected now. You can control everything in your life, except for your wife, from your smartphone.

Home security, television, dvr, thermostat, practically everything in your home. I don't know if you've ever watched "2001, A Space Odyssey", but the computer takes over the ship. How? It was a computer, and it was smart!

I'm not going to turn everything over to my phone. I can lock and unlock my house and vehicle with a key, thank you very much. I can open my garage with the device that came with the unit.

Some people love the fact that so much can be completed remotely, on their smartphone. Personally, I don't trust my phone. It likes to remind me now and again that it is in charge, by rebooting at the worst possible time, instantly dumping contacts and wiggling out of my hand and landing squarely on the one spot that will shatter the entire screen. It's willing to sacrifice it's life just to make my life miserable. 

Oh, we might think we're in charge, but make no mistake, the mysterious cloud calls the shots. You'll get off work and you won't be able to get into your car, and since you've remote started it, the car just sits there, burning gasoline that is nearly at a price of a Starbucks coffee per gallon.

So, you call a locksmith, pay an exorbitant amount of money to get into your car. The computer in the car then plays the music it wants to play on your phone. You finally get home but can't open the garage, or open the door to your house, which has been heated to 100°, causing the refrigerator to break down, trying to keep your food warm.

You then call the same locksmith to your home this time, setting off the security system, so you have to prove your identity to the police. Finally, you get in and get everything under control, and sit back in your recliner, turn on the TV, only to find that your entire dvr has been filled with episodes of "Mythbusters".

I'm warning you, be kind to your phone, and it just might become your friend.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to trade in my smartphone for an old fashioned phone that receives and makes calls at my discretion. (phone: I won't allow him to do that)

See you tomorrow.

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Forget Paris

I pirated "Pirates of the Caribbean". The irony is awesome!

In my career, I have been very fortunate to do a lot of things that I never thought would be possible. As a comedian, I've opened for a lot of celebrities, performed in front of no one (true) and more than 10,000 people. I still love performing.

One of the highlights was being hired to do the crowd warm up for the Castle Rock film, "Forget Paris", starring Billy Crystal, Debra Winger, Joe Montegna and other celebrities like Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Charles Barkley. Aside from the experience itself, the way I got the job was unusual, to say the least.

My good friend, Ron Ruhman, who is like a brother to me, saw a flyer for extras needed on the set of the film. It seemed like a perfect project for the people who were members of my comedy and improv troupes. So, we went to the first day of shooting.

The comedian who was hired to do the crowd warm up was awful. I mean Roseanne Barr singing the National Anthem kind of awful. So, during a break, I talked to the Assistant Director and told him that if he ever needed another crowd warm up that my company specialized in crowds of 10,000 or more. He took my card and I went back to my place in the stands.

I totally lied to the guy. We had never done anything like that at all. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from Cash Oshman, the guy responsible for hiring the crowd warm ups. They had fired the other comedian and wanted to hire us, but just me and Ron. I got the call on a Monday and our call time was 4:30 am on Friday.

We were both ecstatic until reality set in. What in the world were we going to do??? I had no idea. We're improv players, I thought. We'll come up with something. Ruhman is a guy who likes things planned. He's very nervous with a "fly by the seat of your pants" approach.

Ron kept asking me what we were going to do, and I kept telling him I didn't know, but I would figure it out. Tuesday turned to Wednesday, Wednesday to Thursday. Ron was now beginning to panic, because I still had no idea.

Friday morning came and as he was driving us to the Sports Arena (it was a basketball film), he was really panicking now. He asked me again, in a much louder voice, "What are we gonna do?!?!" I told him I had no idea, which was true.

We arrived, met Cash Oshman, and we were just about to get started. Cash gave us one cordless mic and told us to go. As we headed down the stairs to the basketball court and our audience (13,000) inner city people, Ron, now in complete panic mode, said "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO???? I just said," No fear, brother.", high fived him and headed for the court. It was awesome.

We completely nailed it. The shooting days were 18 hours, with a lot of down time. It was our job to keep the crowd energetic throughout the whole time. We did all sorts of things, anything we could think of. We even had them singing the Brady Bunch song in the round.

We had them do the wave as fast as they could, and they were in an energetic frenzy. So much so that Cash told us to bring them down. So we had them do the wave in slow motion, then do it making no sound at all. It was a really fun experience.

Since we were able to interact with the cast, I hung out with Billy Crystal for a while. He was also directing the film and let me watch what he was doing and even answered my questions about why he was shooting at certain angles or filming the same scene ten times. He was completely professional and kind to everyone.

The whole experience gave me the mantra that I carried with me from then on. Why not me?

See you tomorrow.

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My Impressions!

This weekend, I'm going to do an impression of Christopher Walken doing and impression of me. I might just be able to pull it off.

I started doing impressions in the mid 80's. That's how I got started in this wacky world of stand up comedy. I had no desire to do stand up. In fact, I had never even been to a comedy club. It never even crossed my mind.

I worked for Circuit City at the time and although I had always been funny, I couldn't expect what happened one day. We were finishing a two week seminar to new employees and we were having a graduation ceremony with 350 participants and most of the executives from the corporate office.

The Los Angeles Times was supposed to be there to take photos, and the photographer was late. The participants were rapidly getting restless, so one of the executives pushed me out in front of the crowd and told me to tell some jokes. Jokes? Are you kidding me?

I couldn't think of anything to say, and then I remembered some Rodney Dangerfield jokes from a record my sister had given me for Christmas. So, I started doing the impression, and they loved it! The only other impression I could do well was of a preacher who was on tv.

His name was Ernest Angley. He ran a church in Akron, Ohio and had a very peculiar voice and cadence. So I did that impression as well and the audience went wild. Following the ceremony, I was approached by a man named Harvey Pepper. Harvey had just retired from show business as a comedy writer.

Harvey asked me if I had ever thought about doing stand up for a living. I said no, of course. He told me his background and said I had the talent to make it in the business. I thanked him and went about my business.

The following Tuesday, Harvey called me and told me that I was on the schedule to perform that night at The Laugh Factory in Hollywood, and to be there before 8 o'clock. I was certainly going to blow it off. After all, what did I know about doing stand up? And what if I bomb?

The more I thought about it, the more I became willing to go. After all, I didn't know any of these people, so who cares if I bomb? I'll remain anonymous and go home. So, I went on stage and did the same thing I had done at work. The show turned out to be a talent contest and I won! I know!

So, over the years, knowing that crowds love good impressions, I found I could mimic a lot of well known people. One night my buddy and fellow comedian Ron Ruhman got tickets to go see the television show, "Coach". We brought our girlfriends and were enjoying the warm up comedian, who was very funny.

I had been toying with a Forest Gump impression. The comedian asked the crowd if anyone had a talent they wanted to show off. Ruhman's hand was up in a flash. He pointed to me and said "He does." I decided to kill him. Nevertheless, I decided to do my Forest Gump impression, but to really make it funny, I needed to put a twist in the bit.

Necessity is the mother of all invention, so I came up with a twist. I asked the crowd if they liked impressions. They obviously said yes, so I told them I was going to reenact my favorite scene from Apollo 13. I said that the scene was after the problem with the space capsule and there was one scene where Tom Hanks turned to Kevin Bacon and, pointing to Bacon's shoes said in the best Forest Gump voice I could do, "Those look like comfortable shoes." And went on from there.

It was a hit! A new bit was created! From then on, I began to study different celebrities and soon I could do Gump, Tom Brokaw, Bill Clinton, Walter Brennan, Regis Philbin, Jack Buck and Hank Stram and several others, including the warden from the movie "Cool Hand Luke".

I still do every impression except for Walter Brennan. No one recognizes him anymore. It's a lot of fun and the audiences love it.

Come on out to a show and you can hear them live. If you'd like, you can click here to see my Forest Gump bit.

See you tomorrow.

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The Great Flood!

Two men in their 60's were sitting next to each other on a Florida beach. One guy asks the other, "So, just visiting?" The other man replied, "No, I'm retired. I had a business and it burned down." The second man said, "Same with me, only mine was a flood." Perplexed, the other man asks, "How do you start a flood?"

Not too long ago, we had a flood in our house. We live in a two story town house, so of course the flood took place upstairs. I only noticed it because there was water dripping from the chandelier above the dining table. I went upstairs and, sure enough, one of the toilets decided it wasn't going to stop running. It ran longer than Eric Snowden.

Fortunately, there was no sewage, just water, and lots of it. I turned the water to the toilet off and since we lease to buy, I called the landlord. These are the times when it's great to be able to make a call and unless it's intentional, it costs nothing. Sweet!

In this case, it was not so sweet. The maintenance guy wasn't going to be able to get there until the following day. His daughter was getting married, I think, or it was some other ridiculous excuse. Clearly, his priorities were not in order. I even told him that there was a 50% chance the marriage wouldn't work out anyway, but he was adamant about going. Some people are just not flexible.

Since you can't leave wet carpet and padding remain that way overnight because of potential mold issues, I had to peel up the carpet in the hallway and in our bedroom. Pulling the carpet was time consuming but not much of a physical strain. It was kind of tricky because you can't just yank on it; you have to cut the seams so you don't create a brand new seam.

That took longer than a swim to Cuba. I finally finished with the carpet and now had to remove and throw away the soaked padding. I don't know if you realize that soaked carpet padding is extremely heavy. It weighed more than Mike and Molly combined. No kidding.

To make matters worse, I had a severely torn rotator cuff in my right shoulder, so picking up the water soaked padding and throwing it out was not only a long process, it was also very painful. Nevertheless, it had to be done.

After that was completed, I had to mop up as much of the water on the now wooden floor. That also took a long time. Once that was finished, I set up a couple of fans to run until the wood was dry. It took two days. Finally, the carpet installation team came and fixed it.

I think I would much rather have a flood in the basement. Since I don't have anything on the floor in the basement, mainly because I don't have a basement, but if I did, I would need only a shop vac to get the job done. No carpet or padding to deal with.

After all the work was finished, I was sitting downstairs, finally relaxing when I looked up and saw water bubbles held only by the paint. I knew I had to drain them so they wouldn't cause another mold problem. I didn't want to repaint, so I got a container to catch the water and made one needle puncture in the bubble.

I don't know if you're aware that the bubble is much like the tip of an iceberg. As soon as I popped it, it was like a water piñata. The flood gates opened and I had to get more containers. Great, now I had paint just hanging down from the ceiling in several places.

I had to wait for that watery wood to dry out too. I was never so happy to see a work crew arrive to fix everything. Now we no longer use running water for the toilets. We refill the tanks with buckets of water. I'm not taking any chances.

See you tomorrow.

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My Worst Shows!

As a comedian, you know you've had a bad show when one by one, audience members stop by before leaving and say, "That was good. You were funny. Keep practicing."

Keep practicing? "Lady, I've been doing comedy for 20 years! You keep practicing at laughing!" Out loud I say, "Thank you, I will."

Sometimes the shows are bad and you're opening for a big name. That's not quite as bad as having a rough show in a comedy club because the audience didn't pay to see you, they're there to see the star.

I once opened for David Benoit, the famed Jazz artist. His name was pronounced Benwa. You might imagine the lecture I got before I even hit the stage, about what is appropriate on stage and what is strictly off limits.

There were two shows that night, but I wasn't told that since the second show wasn't sold out, many of the folks who attended the first show could stay for the second show too. The spotlight was so intense, I couldn't see anyone in the crowd, so I did the exact same material as in the first show. Disaster.

Far and away, the worst show for me was at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano, California. I was asked to perform in a show with six other comedians, all of whom I knew. It was huge. They brought in a sound crew from Nashville, Tennessee. They had a camera truck out back with a director because there were so many cameras. This was a major production.

I was picked up in a limo at the airport, with a camera guy recording the entire trip down. When I arrived, I was asked to sign a contract. Essentially, the event was being sponsored, in part, by The House of Blues, there was talk of HBO floating around, Walmart and Circuit City had already agreed to buy the CDs to be used as interacting screen savers.

In addition, we would be touring, starting with a gig at the House of Blues in Orlando. I know! A Comedian's dream! Our material had to be squeaky clean. I bounced any questionable material off of the executive producer, and he approved everything. I was set.

The show began with the first four comedians doing very well. The next comic get up and was bombing, which was fine because it was television. They fix that in post production and make it appear as though you rocked the house. This comedian didn't understand that, so when she wasn't getting laughs, she started telling dirty jokes. We call it "going blue."

The executive producer went nuts and demanded that she leave the stage immediately. When they got her off stage, the next comedian, who is now a rising star, didn't like what they did with the previous comic, so he decided to go blue as well. Beautiful. As I was being introduced, I could hear the producer screaming that he might pull the plug on the whole show.

So, I was on stage, getting lots of laughs when the sound went off. I knew  this was no accident, with the crew and equipment they had. The audience yelled, "Keep going!", so I did. Suddenly, the lights went out and an announcer said that the show was over and thanked them for coming.

I was furious! Since they cut me off, I'm sure the audience thought I was to blame. I headed right upstairs to the production room where all of the executives were hanging out, hiding. I banged really hard on the door, but no one answered. I banged harder and demanded to be let in. One man reluctantly opened the door and wanted to know what I wanted.

I pushed my way right through him and found the executive producer. I demanded to know why he pulled the plug during my set. He had no answer. I continued yelling at him because, to the audience, it looked as though I was the culprit who ruined the show. He gave no apology or explanation. I still had my microphone pack on, worth about $1,500,and I took it off of my belt and threw it as hard as I could against the wall, shattering it in pieces and walked out.

They didn't ask or demand that I replace it. The whole thing got tied up in litigation because the woman who caused the problem in the first place wanted to get a copy of her horrible performance, which was not in the contract. I had to buy my own plane ticket home. It was as bad as it gets. One selfish comedian ruined an incredible opportunity for all of us, including the producers.

A couple of weeks later, I received an email from the executive producer, apologizing for what he did to me. Ok, move on. That's show biz.

See you tomorrow.

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Freaky Cats!

I have never understood why women love cats. Cats are independent, they don’t listen, they don’t come in when you call, they like to stay out all night, and when they’re home they like to be left alone and sleep. In other words, every quality that women hate in a man, they love in a cat.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against cats in general. My daughter, Cecilee and my niece, Heather, adore their cats. If I'm honest, I'm afraid of cats. They freak me out. You never know what they're thinking and they will attack you at any time. They're like pit bulls that have no training.

Most dogs are predictable once they grow out of the puppy stage. In my experience with cats, that's not the case. They are evil. I always think they're trying to steal my soul. That's why I never stare into their eyes. Creepy.

My brother, Fred, had a cat suitably named "Whacky". This cat was very pretty and innocent looking. He would lay on the back of the furniture and when you least suspected it, he would leap and attack your head. It was all very interesting and funny, so long as it was happening to someone else.

If it was happening to me, I feared for my life. Whacky would use all four legs to claw your head for what seemed like an hour, but in reality it was only seconds. The recovery time combined with the fear of the next sudden attack made me paranoid.

The best example and strongest reason why I think cats are creepy is based on a horrible series of incidents with one cat. I lived in Pomona, California with my second wife, her daughter and my kids. The wife wanted to get a cat and I was opposed, but I caved. It was a female, which is pertinent to the story.

There was also a huge male stray cat in the neighborhood. We all called him big kitty. He was a tough street cat. One morning, we were packing the car for a trip and left the front door open so we didn't have to keep opening it with hands full. This would prove to be a horrible decision.

I suddenly heard the freaky, "I'm going to kill you" meows coming from a neighbor's male cat and big kitty. They were ready to fight to the death over our female cat... In our living room! I told my wife to hold the neighbor's cat down by the neck and I would do the same with big kitty. We did. Now what?

I turned to tell my wife to let her hostage go. In a split second, big kitty sank his teeth deep into the flesh of my left hand. He only needed me to be distracted for a second to make his move. I saw a doctor who cleaned the wound and gave me an injection. He said I'd be fine. Wrong! The next morning, my hand was swollen like a rubber glove blown up like a balloon.

Fortunately, we had interaction, randomly with another doctor. He told me to get to an ER immediately. I did. The treatment was very painful but successful.

After we got home, we decided to take the giant killer cat to the vet to get him checked out. He also bit the vet. When we went to pick up the monster, the vet wanted to call animal control and have the cat put down right then. But, we decided to bring him back to the neighborhood anyway.

The vet did call animal control, who snatched up the outlaw cat and they assured us it would be painless for the cat. Finally, and sadly, it was over. The animal control truck pulled away.

Six months later, we were in the house when we heard an all too familiar meow outside the front door. We froze. It can't be him. Or could it? I had watched "Pet Semetery" so this situation really freaked me out.

I opened the door and, sure enough, it was big kitty! He was very skinny, his paw pads were worn down and bloody from his long journey home, and he now had only one eye, the other no doubt lost in a street fight.

We fed him practically all of the cat food we had in the house and also what seemed like gallons of water. He quickly recovered and my wife was going to call animal control again. I said no. This cat had eerily managed to escape death's clutches so he deserved to live.

We saw him on occasion after that, but he didn't hang out at our house much. He was too busy running the cat gang in the neighborhood.

See you tomorrow.

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Somebody Help Me!

An optimist invented the airplane. A pessimist invented the parachute.

I am an optimist. Most of the time, I keep a positive outlook about everything. My wife, however, is a pessimist. She has a tendency to look at the downside. I think that balance is good. Imagine if both were optimists. It would be as much of a disaster as if both were pessimists.

The optomists would jump into anything and everything, without even looking at the potential consequences. They will always be broke. The optimists are much more likely to buy a new car, even when it's unnecessary, causing financial strain and stress.

A pessimistic couple would be afraid to make a decision to improve their situation, even if genuinely needed. The optimists would throw caution to the wind and take risks, while the pessimists will cause the optimists to stop and think of possible reactions to the decisions.

I find that as I age, I become more balanced in decision making, fitting my pessimist wife much better. We are much more in tune with the decisions that we make.

There were times when that was not the case. I leased a comedy club, even though my friend, who successfully runs comedy clubs, advised me not to. The club lasted about six months. I then started in radio and had the number one show quickly.

The entertainment editor of the newspaper asked me to consider remodeling the club and reopen the club. I immediately thought that if I had the entertainment director on the team, along with the the number one radio show host, what could go wrong?

Here's what went wrong. As soon as we opened, the knucklehead editor quit his job, because he now owned a business. I was still optimistic about the future of the club. I couldn't have been more wrong. We opened on New Years Eve, and closed the following May. Disaster.

So, I decided to focus on radio and get the whole comedy club ownership out of my head. It was smart. I have never been tempted to invest in a club since then. There was an optimist who paid $40,000 for a comedy club, on the condition that I ran it. My wife ran it, but the deal that we would not invest, didn't pan out. It turned out the guy who shelled out the forty grand had no more money, so we had to buy food, beverages and supplies. We quit when it really started to impact our home budget. At least we don't buy it!

I'll always be a cautious optimist now. I'm not so quick to jump in with feet first and eyes closed. Aging will do that. Enough costly mistakes will do that. Enough rocks to the head will make you think about wearing a helmet.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a Nigerian diplomat with an amazing offer that I need to consider.

See you tomorrow.

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Put your nose to the grindstone

My Dad used to tell me that. Well, I finally did it. I'll be out of the hospital in about a week, looking like Kenny Rogers.

Working hard at something, is all I've ever known. In high school, I didn't care about my grades. I cared about being the best actor and funniest guy around.

I caught the drama director cheating on the awards distribution. I won the best actor award my first year, as voted by my peers. He gave it to a senior. When confronted, he said he did it because the guy was a senior, and it was his last shot. That was enough for me. I couldn't trust him.

I then moved on to radio, my passion. I knew there was a radio station at our rival high school, and we had Regional Occupation Programs (ROP) in place, to give us the chance to get work experience prior to graduation.

I went to the principal, a great man named Mr. Colivas, and hit him up with the idea of sending students from other schools there to get broadcast experience. He thought it was a good idea, but he thought it best that I talk with the teacher at the other school first.

When I approached the teacher with my idea, he became angry, and said - excuse me - yelled, no. He said it took him years to get approval from the school district to fund the endeavor.

I reported back to Mr. Colivas that the teacher loved the idea. Mr. Colivas took the idea to the school board and they also loved it. A new program was born and since I initiated it, I was the first selected from my school. There were others, as well. Denny Francis and Dan Smith. Great guys. There were also students selected from the other school in our town, too.

As you might imagine, the funny looking little teacher, who sounded just like Richard Dreyfus, hated me. Never the less, I set my sites on being tho first of our group to get a show. I was.

Through the class, I heard that a station in town was looking for a copy writer. I didn't even know what a copy writer was. The next day, after school, I walked into the station and announced that I was the copy writer they sought. After I figured out what a copy writer was, I wrote a couple of commercials for Dick Bailey, and walked out with the job.

My point is, I had to be the best. Failure was never an option. I carried that philosophy with me my entire life, and now I'm paying for it. It's one of the reasons why I am sick. There are more factors, of course, but complete burn out is one of them.

The moral of the story is that it wasn't worth it. I've done more than most, but didn't really enjoy it, because of the drive within. It was never enough.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must check my blog stats and see if I am climbing the popularity ladder.

See you tomorrow.