Emmy categories I'd like to see

I wrote an article for VARIETY that appeared in their Emmy Preview Issue this week.
My assignment was to create different Emmy categories. I contractually can't reprint it in full but here's the first paragraph and the link to the full story. Is it worth the effort of that one extra click? Probably not but what the hell?

Hooray! It's Emmy season again: Screeners have been sent, full-page ads have been ordered, and self-congratulatory montages are already being assembled for the big night. The town is abuzz. Will Showtime get more nominations than HBO? Will TBS get more nominations than CBS? Will NBC get any? Who does Debra Messing know to get nominated every year? Will there even be an Emmys telecast if the actors go out on strike?

Here's the complete article.

My NETFLIX pick of the month

I was quite saddened to hear of Sydney Pollack’s passing earlier this week. I always thought he was an excellent director and an even better actor. In the many tributes I’ve seen and read the films of his that receive the most accolades are TOOTSIE, OUT OF AFRICA, THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR, and THE WAY WE WERE (a movie that makes me absolutely cringe).

But there’s one film that is just in the pile of his “other” works that I think is his very best picture. And so it becomes my NETFLIX PICK OF THE MONTH (just in the nick of time too since this is the last day of May).

THEY SHOOT HORSES DON’T THEY? came out in 1969. It’s not a comedy despite that hilarious title. During the Great Depression (as opposed to our current one) there used to be ballroom dance marathons. Couples would compete for cash prizes by staying awake and dancing for weeks on end. Last couple still standing won. You’re probably wondering, how could they get a full movie out of that? Watching zombies schlep around a dance floor for weeks doesn’t seem like riveting entertainment.

But that’s the genius of the movie because Pollack does make it riveting. Also compelling, heartbreaking, and disturbing. Jane Fonda starred and deserved the Oscar nomination she received and probably would have won if she wasn’t also “Hanoi Jane” at the time. Gig Young did win an Oscar for his performance.

Check it out. You’ll have a better appreciation of Sydney Pollack and Dr. Scholl’s.

R.I.P. Harvey Korman

I hadn't thought about Harvey Korman in years until reading about his death today. Korman was a fixture in my household in the '70s via "The Carol Burnett Show," which set a high bar for funny. I talked to a friend today who said she'd never seen the famous "Gone with the Wind" spoof, and it dawned on me that there's an entire generation of people who didn't grow up with that show.

The first person I thought about was fellow second-banana Tim Conway. The L.A. Times perfectly described their unique chemistry, which was consistently a joy to watch: "Korman and Conway developed an uncanny rapport that made them arguably one of television's most lethal comic teams; Conway's on-camera ad-libs often made Korman crack up; producers wisely kept them in the show."

If you've never had the pleasure of seeing the "GWTW" skit, check it out. Like all great humor, it holds up.

Snap Judgment: 'Final Crisis'

It doesn't suck.

"Final Crisis" has two important things in its favor: Grant Morrison's writing and J.G. Jones' art. The first panel alone — a simple scene of a caveman and the word "Man" — pulls you in. This first issue of seven has plenty of layers, and I'm looking forward to more being revealed. I'd be lying if I said I understood everything that's taking place, but that's what the Internet is for. (One quibble: It's time for D.C. to admit that Lex Luthor looks like an idiot in that super-suit. If anything, it makes him seem less evil.)

But as much as I enjoyed the first issue, the experience is tainted by event fatigue. Or in my case, Crisis fatigue. I know the major publishers have to throw out shiny, money-making objects, but the mega-hyped crossover thing is wearing thin. Yeah, I know I don't have to buy it, and supporting "Final Crisis" is just more encouragement for D.C. to keep doing it. I'm not a Marvel person, but I even fell for "Civil War" — and we know how that turned out. The problem is that if you enjoy certain superhero comics, ignoring the crossovers could leave you completely in the dark. And some of them have been great ("Identity Crisis") or at least good ("52").

It wouldn't annoy me as much if the consistently good alternative books got more love, but that's just life. It's like wishing that Fountains of Wayne was as big as Nickelback. No amount of praying will make that happen, so I have to let it go.

On to issue No. 2, then.

The Friday Question of the Week

Based on what you said you wanted to see more of, I’m beginning a new feature today: Friday Questions. Each Friday I’ll try to answer one or more of the questions you guys send in. So keep ‘em comin’.

How much attention do you pay to continuity on a long running show or character? For example, I believe that once on CHEERS Frasier's mother appeared being played by the woman who played Tony Soprano's mother and I think she threatened to kill Diane. In some cases continuity errors between CHEERS and FRASIER were kind of smoothed over, but was this a priority or just something done to shut up nit picky fans?

The problem with long running shows is that there is often turnover in the writing staff. After a few seasons it’s not uncommon for creators/show runners to flee to Hawaii or be admitted to Bellevue. And with new writers on board sometimes things fall between the cracks. Often times a background fact about a character is buried deep within an episode. Names of relatives, number of children, those sort of things are apt to change. But in fairness, who remembers their wife’s name or number of kids they have?

When we wrote the episode of FRASIER where Sam Malone visits we took a few minutes to cover a few inconsistencies (like Frasier saying he was an only child and his father was dead) and update what was going on at Cheers.

Some shows keep “Bibles” – detailed records of each episode. These are great for ensuring continuity. Unless you don’t want continuity.

There are times when writers will purposely just ignore something from years past that gets in the way of what they want to do now. Here’s their justification: Hell, no one’ll remember. Unfortunately, there are reruns, DVDs, websites, chat rooms, and uber nerds who live in their parents’ basement and do remember. Anyone recall that in the second episode of CHEERS we establish that Sam’s divorced and we meet his ex-wife? She and the marriage are never brought up again. This policy of just pretending something never existed is now very popular in politics.

Casting changes also stretch the limits of creative license. Suddenly a different guy is playing Darrin Stevens on BEWITCHED without any explanation. (In that case it would have been so easy to have Sam just say “Mother, what have you done?!”) Harry Morgan first appeared on MASH as an insane general. He was brought back as Colonel Potter. On LAW & ORDER I see the same guest actors playing different characters every season. (Just once I’d love to hear a witness swear in and state his profession as doctor/guy at the deli counter/longshoreman.)

Bottom line, whenever possible we try to keep our facts straight. But it’s not like LOST where every miniscule of information is a clue and has great import. Someone in the room comes up with a great joke about Frasier’s sister. It gets a big laugh. It goes in the script. And we get home before midnight.

What are your questions?

Double Kisses and Pixie Dust

I discovered B. Scott's YouTube chatfest via Crunk and Disorderly, and for the first minute, I just stared at the screen with a mixture of confusion and fascination. First, there was the joyous giggle and the reference to his viewers/readers as "love muffins." Then there was his ... visage. I knew he wasn't a chick, but he is prom queen pretty, no pun intended. If I were still relaxing my hair, I'd e-mail him and demand to know what products he uses.

While his celebrity blog is nicely done (and surprisingly kind), B.'s YouTube channel is where the real action is. Addressing the viewer from what appears to be his apartment, he offers a mix of commentary ("I am looking for a metaphysical love!") and performance: B. Scott does African dance aerobics! B. Scott interviews a random R&B songstress! B. Scott testifies for the Lord! While sipping a cosmopolitan, he told a surprisingly touching story about how a group of gay-bashing dudes heckled him — and one of the bashers later approached him inside the convenience store and quietly offered his phone number. Deep!

My friend E., who is not easily impressed, said that B. has "that special something" that makes you want to keep watching. While I doubt ABC will be calling anytime soon, someone ought to give this man his own TV show. He's a hell of a lot more entertaining than all those chicks on "The View" combined.

Tech Support

When I call for tech help I don’t care that I’m calling India or Botswana or Denver I just want someone who can talk in even broken English. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned, I’m a complete computer retard. I have this very real fear that I will press the wrong key or make the wrong menu choice and it will crash every computer in Europe. I call this Y-2Ken. I also panic whenever anything goes wrong because I don’t know if it’s a computer problem, a server problem, a “me” problem, or residual payback for having co-written MANNEQUIN 2.

One night last week our power went out. Usual reason – underground explosion on the next block. I was forced to sit in the dark and worse -- Tivo was out. Five hours later the electricity returned and all was back up and running except my cable and internet – the two most crucial features of my life.

So I called tech support. Maybe there was something that had to be re-set, or maybe they were aware of the problem, or the BIG god forbid – maybe they had to send someone out here.

After going through the automated menu, pushing sixteen buttons while having to “listen closely because our options have changed”, enduring fifteen minutes of canned music (I think it was from the “Mantovani plays Guns & Roses” album), I finally get connected to Latka, the character Andy Kaufman played on TAXI.

He asked me for my account number. I thought he meant reboot my computer. He asked me for the phone number on my account so I dutifully disconnected my router. He wanted to know to whom he was speaking. As per that request I pulled out the power source to the modem.

A half hour later my internet still wasn’t up but I had changed four smoke alarms, moved the microwave to the den, re-set each clock one hour ahead, and turned on the backyard sprinklers. It appeared I needed a – gulp -- service call.

I was transferred to another department. Ten more minutes of lilting strings playing “Dead Horse” then got someone in Seychelles who spoke enough English to say “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t do that” almost on a continual loop. The earliest they could get a maintenance guy out to my house was in eight days. WTF!!? A month ago I got a call from this same cable company offering me a spiffy new overall package that would include cable, internet, and long distance phone service. Was I interested? They could have a truck out there that afternoon, or tomorrow morning if it was more convenient. But to restore service I was already paying for, that would take over a week.

After much pleading and being transferred again, then told their computers were down (although there was something poetic about that) they said the dispatcher from my area would call right back and he would set up an appointment for that morning. I said, “Do you have a direct number so I could call you if there’s any problem?” “Sorry, sir, we can’t do that.” So I hung up and waited for the dispatcher to call.

He never did. Big surprise.

Fortunately service was restored in a few hours. Why or how I do not know.

Five minutes ago I get a call from the cable company confirming my service appointment for tomorrow. I told her it was no longer needed and she said I might be getting a follow-up call from the cable company wondering if I thought she was helpful and courteous. I asked if they had a feedback section for their notorious tech support department and she said no. I could go to their website and file a complaint, which would immediately go directly into a trash bin.

So in protest, no, I did not buy their great new overall package. Maybe that’s the only language THEY’LL understand.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

... is really just the deleted scenes from the first three Indy movies. I can’t believe a reader of this blog said it was important to see this potboiler the first weekend because the emulsion deteriorates. Trust me, emulsion is the least of this film’s problems.

If you’re an Indiana Jones fan, better than spending two hours watching this movie, go to Disneyland, wait in line an hour and fifty-six minutes and then just take the ride.

There was something new added to the ending, however. I will give them that. But it was so utterly ridiculous that the denouement of the Hope/Crosby comedy, ROAD TO UTOPIA was more plausible and in that one fish talked.

Harrison Ford did an admirable job considering he’s approaching the age of the artifacts he’s collecting. Action heroes tend to be more believable if they’re younger than Keith Richards. Still, I thought Harrison pulled it off nicely. But Van Damme, please, don’t get any ideas.

Cate Blanchett played Natasha from the Bullwinkle cartoons. Russians are the new Nazis. Sporting a Prince Valiant haircut and a form-fitting gray dominatrix uniform, poor Cate trotted out every Roosky cliché short of “die you capitalist lackey dog!” She seemed to be having fun though. Playing Queen Elizabeth I guess she never got to fire a gatling gun.

It was good to see Karen Allen again. Shame on her for leaving Hollywood to live a normal happy life.

Shia LeBeouf also came aboard to ensure a younger audience and sequels. We learn that his character is really Indy’s son. I would have posted a spoiler alert but village idiots could see that coming from the first frame. There’s one action sequence where Shia is running while dodging a million rounds of machine gun fire. They cut to Indy who has a big grin as if to proudly say, “Yeah, that’s my boy!” It’s the typical reaction any father would have upon seeing their son shot at by hundreds of soldiers.

Steven Spielberg directed with his usual attention to detail and mastery of the camera. But there wasn’t a shot you hadn’t seen from him before. And there were the requisite skeletons, ancient temples, spider webs, snakes, leaping from car to car, treasure maps, curses, monkeys, poison darts, natives, caves, riddles, double crossers, quicksand, fistfights, kidnappings, and cliff hangers to remind you that this was really cool 27 years ago.

What’s most disappointing is how the movie fell apart. The first half hour was rollicking fun and it looked like this was going to be a fun ride. But then it just sank under the weight of its own franchise. Pity because I really wanted to love it. RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK is still one of my favorite action flicks.

But here’s all you need to know about this one: Indiana Jones survives going over what is essentially Niagara Falls and lives through a full-out nuclear explosion.

And then it gets stupid.

No (Diet) Coke for You

We went to a cookout over the holiday weekend, and I had a revelation while searching the cooler for a soda: Black people in the South don't believe in Diet Coke.

I'm black and Southern, so I feel qualified to make make this sweeping (and thoroughly unresearched) argument. It's not good or bad. I've just noticed that whenever I'm at a shindig hosted by friends who are black, nine times out of 10, there isn't a diet soft drink to be found. This seems to hold true across class lines, though younger African-American hosts are slightly more likely to provide a diet option.

I suppose it's a logical omission. If you're eating beef hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, hamburgers, buffalo wings and potato salad, is a calorie-free drink really going to help your waistline? Sodas laced with fake sweeteners have no health benefits. And as the great philosopher Paris Hilton once said, "Diet Coke is for fat people." (She has yet to make a statement about my preferred beverage, Coke Zero.)

Still, ignoring the existence of Diet Coke is an old school act of protest in this age of constant calorie-awareness. Aspartame is for The Man and the hopelessly assimilated.

Welcome Back, Jason

When "Arrested Development" got people talking about Jason Bateman again, I couldn't help but think, "Where have you people been?" I tried explaining his underrated awesomeness to my sister, an "AD" fan who is too young to know he had a TV career in the '80s. Bateman was usually better than the shows he starred in, and for a while, he seemed thisclose to having a huge career. But maybe he was a bit ahead of his time, like "Square Pegs."

My husband gets Best Life magazine (Bateman's on the cover this month), and Joel Stein's profile perfectly describes the actor's long apparent, off-center charm: "I liked Bateman more than any other child star. Because Bateman always played a dick. Not a teen-villain dick, but the kind who you wanted to be: the smart, cocky, friendly dick. Kirk Cameron and Ricky Schroder could do snarky, and Scott Baio could do arrogant, but underneath was a desperation to be liked, to wink at the joke, to make sure viewers knew they really were good people. But Bateman never paused for laughter."

Sad as this is, I was especially psyched that Stein cited "It's Your Move," a short-lived '80s sitcom in which Bateman played a scheming smartass. (I watched a lot of TV growing up. OK?) The character oozed smarm, but Bateman made him funny and somehow likeable.That's good acting. Every other sitcom has a version of that kid now, but back in the day it was kinda edgy.

This is the kind of comeback I can get behind. It's not as flashy as Ricky Schroeder's on "NYPD Blue" or as out-of-the-blue as Jackie Earl Haley's in "Little Children," but it's just as satisfying.

Iron Man

First of all, I was delighted that IRON MAN was a superhero movie and not another Lou Gehrig biography. I mean, PRIDE OF THE YANKEES was only 1942. Who needs a glut of these films?

I must say I enjoyed IRON MAN but for all the wrong reasons. I loved all the scenes where there was no action, no special effects, no dazzling stunts. For me the best part of this movie was – are you ready? – the acting. Robert Downey Jr. was terrific. Finally! A superhero who wasn’t brooding, deeply conflicted, or had a Christ complex. (Downey even makes cheeky reference to that.) Insouciance is not a quality given most protectors of justice. Nor is depth and nuance.

But Downey was all that and a bag of (computer) chips. If he can just stay out of jail he still could become an A-list boxoffice star. He’s great in everything he does, from CHAPLIN to ALLY MCBEAL.

Another pleasant surprise was Jeff Bridges. What a good bad guy. It took me out of the film just a tad cause he looked like my friend Larry but that shouldn’t bother you.

And both were helped by a smart fun script by Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby and Art Marcum & Matt Holloway along with pitch perfect directing by Jon Favereau (who avoided all the ROCKETEER pitfalls).

Gwyneth Paltrow was also in the movie basically to remind us that her kid is now in day care and she’s accepting movie roles again. Welcome back, Gwynee. We missed you.

Once Downey put on the suit it became just your by-the-numbers superhero movie. Lots of flying, saving innocent pedestrians, kicking serious ass, and the inevitable battle of the titans with the bigger, badder supervillain in Manhattan at night, propelling each other into buses, billboards, and buildings. The world is at stake. The hero has to outsmart the baddie and “the girl” (this time Gwyneth) has to push some button at just the right time. Explosions galore and a lot of crunching.

Ah, but those scenes that didn’t require computer animation or spinning helicopter blades, those were delightful. IRON MAN is a fun rollercoaster ride, much more fun than PRIDE OF THE YANKEES.

Tomorrow: my review of INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL.

Memorial Day

Above is a photo of real MASH doctors.

Several times studios and networks have come to my writing partner, David and me asking us to create another MASH. Well, that can’t be done. MASH is unique. It’s a comedy. It’s a drama. It’s a life and death situation. And the entire premise is built around insanity. The insanity of war, the insanity of doctors treating patients who never should be there in the first place. Comedy that comes from pain, from futility.

When you watch MASH, as well as hopefully being entertained, please appreciate the sacrifice these young soldiers and all American soldiers have made for their country.

Our thanks and prayers go to them and their families on this Memorial Day.

More Frasier/Lilith

This is my favorite last line from any show we wrote -- mostly because of Kelsey's delivery. It's from CHEERS, the episode where Lilith's pet rat dies and she keeps it in her purse.

Good news for Indiana Jones fans!!

There are long lines and big waits to get in to see the new INDIANA JONES movie that opened this weekend. I know many of you are heartbroken that you couldn’t get in to see it. Well I have good news. No. GREAT news!

I have heard, from a reliable source who chooses to remain anonymous for fear of losing his job, that they’ve decided to continue showing the movie even beyond this weekend! That’s right. You can go Tuesday or Thursday or even next weekend!

So no need to postpone that wedding or miss your daughter’s graduation. Help your elderly parents move as planned. Give birth to that baby if you have to.

It turns out movies are not like live performances. Any time you see them they’re exactly the same.

So if you see the film this weekend, great. But if not, that’s okay. You’ll have another chance. Keep checking this blog for updates and I don’t want to get your hopes up but there’s a chance – remote I know – that the INDIANA JONES movie may even still be around in two weeks.

Yes, there is a God.

Blake DeWitt

Finally! A cause I can believe in. As you know I don’t usually delve into politics on this blog. (Side note: On those rare occasions when I do, invariably I’ll get these angry comments from people saying they’ll never read my blog again and then a month later they’re right back commenting.)

But sometimes a person emerges who is so exciting, so inspiring that you almost feel it’s your obligation to help further his career. And that is why, and again – remember I don’t usually do this, I am asking you, my dear readers, to help Blake DeWitt get into the All-Star game.
Who is this Blake DeWitt you ask? And why have we never heard of him?

That’s the problem. That’s why we need your help, ladies and gentlemen. To spread the word.

He’s the third baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Wait! You non-baseball fans, just before you click on “next blog” hear me out. You don’t have to love sports. You just have to love a great feel-good story, one that Hollywood would write if it hadn’t already written it to death thirty times over.

Blake DeWitt is a 22 year old kid from Sikeston, Missouri – the only city in America too small to qualify for an NBA franchise. At the start of spring training he was just another young huckleberry in the Dodgers’ minor league system. He was ticketed to start the season in Jacksonville or one of those towns where the Olive Gardens is reserved for special occasions.

There were maybe nine third basemen ahead of DeWitt on the Dodger depth chart. But miraculously, through injuries, visa issues, better offers from the Ice Capades, and missing the flight back from Beijing, China – Blake got the job. The Dodgers had so much faith in him they were trying to deal for another third baseman up until two hours before opening day. They even inquired about Ty Cobb I understand.

But having no other option they gave DeWitt a chance – fully expecting that when any of the nine other third sackers returned he’d be shipped back down to the land of cow milking contests between innings and Shoneys.

Long story short, Blake DeWill has been nothing short of SENSATIONAL. As I write this he is hitting about .320, tops for any rookie. He has four home runs (including an inside-the-park homer) and has been a vacuum cleaner defensively. He signs autographs. He agrees to go on radio postgame shows. He stands during the national anthem.

Clearly, he is having an All-Star season. But he is not even on the ballot. And that is why I am asking your help. You can vote on-line and write in candidates. You can also fill out ballots at any major league ballpark (but that doesn’t help you if you’re in Cambodia).

These campaigns have worked. True story: One year Steve Garvey and his then-bride, Cyndy took home stacks and stacks of ballots and every night wrote-in thousands of entries. It worked. How he had the strength to even hold a bat after that I dunno.

Since Steve and Cyndy are no longer together and both are busy I must instead turn to you. You can vote on-line here. Just click on VOTE NOW.

By the way, stuffing All-Star ballot boxes is completely acceptable. Especially in Florida where that’s all they know.

For the sake of the underdog, apple pie, great kids who never give up, dreamers, and let’s just say it – America (Or, if you’re in another country, whatever that country is) write-in your vote for Blake DeWitt to be the All-Star third baseman of the National League.

I thank you. I’m sure our nation thanks you. And if God reads the sports section He thanks you as well.

'Last Man' Love

Because I am a girly girl and a geek, there is a fierce battle for my disposable income. I want the discount Michael Kors handbag and a big, fresh stack of comics every Wednesday. But because I'm a mom, I'm not exactly swimming in gold coins, ala Scrooge McDuck. This is where my childless and/or single male friends come in handy. They provide the best possible form of welfare: great CDs from underrated bands I don't have time to research, cult DVDs with generous borrow time, and all the comics my little hands can carry. It's like Christmas once a month.

I have to credit my friend K. with introducing me to some of the best comics I've ever read, stuff I probably wouldn't have gambled the cash on without a primer. One of them is "The Last Man," a fantastic story about the adventures of the last man on Earth. Yes, I am late to the party on this (as usual); sue me. But if you haven't heard of this series, let alone read it, get thee to the nearest bookstore. Writer Brian K. Vaughn delivers page after page of nail-biting drama, spot-on Gen X/Y humor, holy-crap-no-way plot twists and sex. Plus, there's a monkey. It's like a groundbreaking HBO series in print, with great illustrations.

The basics: Aimless twenty-something Yorick Brown is about to propose to his girlfriend over the phone when every other male on Earth — human or otherwise — drops dead from a mysterious plague. That is, every other male except Yorick's pet monkey, Ampersand. Once Yorick and Amp set out to find Yorick's girlfriend, Beth (who is in Australia), all hell breaks loose again and again. Things get really good when Yorick teams up with secret agent 355 and geneticist Dr. Mann, and they dodge a series of mercenaries, insane "Amazons" and pirates. Yes, pirates.

This world without men is not a nice place filled with quaint bistros, day spas and shoe emporiums. It is every bit as violent, creepy and batshit crazy as the one we inhabit now, except half the world is dead. Meanwhile, the absence of men has created all kinds of transportation, shipping and food supply problems. It would be tough to take if there weren't so many genuinely funny moments ("Bitch, I'm an Ivy League lesbian. Do you think I've never fenced before?"). Plus, the relationship between Yorick, 355 and Mann deepens as the journey goes on.

Can I get on my diversity soapbox for a minute? I love that 355 is a hardcore, smart black woman with dreadlocks. And that Dr. Mann is an Asian woman who changed her last name to Mann (as in Mann's Chinese Theatre) to piss off her scientist parents. The reader isn't beaten over the head with gratuitous plot points; the diversity is simply organic. You know, like in the real world.

As D.C. gears up for its 400th crisis, I can't help but wish titles like this got the recognition they deserved. The proposed film version could help with that, provided that it's done well. So go read it now, before Hollywood gives 'The Last Man' a bad name.

The biggest laugh you never saw on CHEERS

One of the biggest laughs we ever got on CHEERS was taken out when the show aired. Not that big laughs are so easy to get that it’s no big whoop to just toss one, but in this case we felt it ruined the show. Here’s the backstory.

First season. The episode was called “The Coach’s Daughter” (written by Ken Estin and directed by James Burrows). From the title you can probably get the gist of what the show was about. The Coach’s somewhat plain daughter introduces her fiancé to her dad and the gang at Cheers and he’s a real boorish lout. (He sold flame retarded reversible suits and yet he wasn’t reputable.)

Sidenote: The actor who played him was Phillip Charles MacKenzie. For the first two days we had someone else and he just didn’t work out. The trouble was finding someone really funny but still likeable enough that you didn’t storm the stage. Funny/obnoxious is not easy to pull off. And it had to be someone who could step in and be up to speed almost immediately. My partner and I had used Phillip in a pilot we created. He was great. I felt worse for him than us that NBC passed on it for PINK LADY AND JEFF. So he was our suggestion and he made us look good. In later years Phillip became a director and we used him often on ALMOST PERFECT. End of sidenote, and no I’m not going to say who the actor was that got fired.

Late in the episode there’s a lovely scene where the Coach has a heart-to-heart with his daughter, Lisa in Sam’s office. It’s clear to everyone (but the Coach of course) that she’s marrying this clown, Roy out of insecurity not love. Lisa tells her dad that Roy thinks she’s beautiful. The Coach says, “You are beautiful. You look just like your mother.” It was meant to touch Lisa’s heart.

We were holding our breaths hoping it didn’t get a big gooey “Awwwwwwww!” Instead it got this thunderous laugh. Applause even. Everyone on the stage was stunned. We shot the scene again, thinking this time they’ll see it differently. Nope. Huge laugh the SECOND time.

Still, when we assembled the show we all felt it hurt the scene and ultimately the story. Kudos to the Charles Brothers for being willing to lift the episode’s biggest laugh to preserve the emotional core of the show.

Sometimes jokes can also sacrifice the integrity of your characters -- make them too stupid, too insensitive, etc. When that even becomes a borderline call my vote is to dump the joke. Same with jokes of questionable taste. Take the high road.

As hard as it is to write big jokes, it's always much harder to discard them. But the rewards are greater and you'll like yourself in the morning.

AMERICAN IDOL finale

Okay. Change in plans. Couldn't wait until Friday. Had to comment on David Cook winning.

This won't be an actual review since, well...I didn't see the show. I'm writing from the Dodger Stadium pressbox. Unless Ken Griffey Jr. sings in rightfield I have nothing to critique.

But I must say I was surprised and pleased that David Cook won. Not that I disliked Archuleta. He could certainly sing Dan Fogelberg songs. It's just that, well...I'm not twelve.

And I also hated how his early coronation robbed the show of any suspense. Yes, there was the twist at the end but that's like a romcom where Hugh Jackman gets the girl instead of George Clooney. Big shocker.

At the end of the day I think America just couldn't stand hearing one more "Gosh!"

I only hope David Archuleta's dad doesn't ground him for a year.

As for the show itself, I'm guessing it was the usual bloated padded finale. Did they do the bit where the contestants sang with established acts? Did Brooke White sing with Axel Rose or Jason Castro with Barbra Streisand? Did they cart out all the other contestants? Were there a couple of big group numbers like salutes to Nirvana and Christian Rock? Did former losers anchor coverage in the finalists hometowns where we got to see thousands of excited sheep?

How many times did they plug itunes? And Coke? And Ford? And AMERICAN IDOL summer camps or museums or tanning salons or whatever else they've dreamed up to fleece the public? How many plugs for the upcoming tour? The over-under in Vegas is 50. Will there be an AMERICAN IDOL Renaissance Faire this year?

How many former AMERICAN IDOLS sang? How many former AMERICAN IDOLS could they find?

Did they show the bad auditions for the 90th time and bring the worst ones out on stage so the country could humiliate them just once more?

Was the show so overproduced that the Orange Bowl halftime show was demure by comparison?

I'll be interested to know if I'm right about any of this. And if I am, then that's the problem. When the only thing unpredictable is the outcome and even that's a big ho-hum it's time to rethink things. As Simon (the only thing worth keeping) might say: "It's stale and old fashioned. No wow factor. Poor format selection. Sorry"

So congratulations to David Cook. And good luck next year to you 100,000 idiots who are probably starting to line up at stadiums right now. Will I be watching? Yeah, hell, probably.

AMERICAN IDOL recap delay

UPDATE: I'm going to post my AI recap anyway at 10 pm pdt, even though I didn't watch it.

Due to a power failure my season ending AMERICAN IDOL recap will appear Friday. I'm sure some of you are saying "take all the time you need. Take a year". But I'll have it Friday. We need a sense of closure. A new post follows shortly.

Indy Overload

I am one of maybe eight people who won't be seeing "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." I can appreciate that the franchise is classic and groundbreaking, right up there with my beloved "Star Wars" ORIGINAL trilogy. But for some reason, I didn't bother seeing it when I was a kid. By the time I saw the first movie at age 30 (seriously), it was too late for me to be all that charmed or entertained by it. I've seen this happen before, like when people see SW for the first time as an adult and think, "Meh."

But even if I were stoked about this film, any joy I had would be crushed under the staggering weight of product tie-ins. Indy is friggin' everywhere. Cereal boxes. Burger King Kids' Meals. Soda cans. Lunchables boxes. I'm not buying half of this stuff; yet, I feel like I've seen Harrison Ford more in the last month than my own husband. A USA Today story describes how Mars Snackfoods took pains to create an M&M resembling Indiana Jones for its print ads.

Was "Iron Man" this bad?

Some of this is my own fault, because we occasionally watch TV. And when it's on Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel, there's an Indy onslaught roughly every 10 minutes. I've been lurching for the "off" button more frequently than usual, while telling my 8-year-old son (again) that he's not going to see it. Gotta admire his tenacity, though. (While we're on this subject, why are so many parents dumb enough to take their kids to a movie that is clearly rated PG-13? Yeah, the studios shouldn't so blatantly market this stuff to first-graders, but no one's forcing you to take them. Get a sitter!)

Would I be less annoyed by the marketing if I cared about the movie? Probably. And it's not like George Lucas or Steven Spielberg need my money. For the fans' sake, I hope the movie is good, and that they aren't left with nothing but a bag of limited-edition M&Ms.

Where are they now...if you can even remember who they are?

My last AMERICAN IDOL recap of the year will appear late tonight/early tomorrow. I’ll only recap it next year if the show gets a whole lot better than it was this season. I don’t think I could stand one more bad Alicia Keyes knockoff.

But the big finale is finally here. All of those kids we obsessed over for three months will disappear from our consciousness the minute Ryan says “Your local news is next”.

And so I started wondering, what’s happened to some of the previous AMERICAN IDOL contestants? Those household names we couldn’t remember now if we were hypnotized. So, as a public service, I have sought out many of these AI-alumni and have uncovered their whereabouts today.

RYAN STARR – (pictured above) Parlayed her singing talent to become a print model.

JULIA DEMATO– Completed her cosmetology studies in Fairfield, Connecticut and is touring the country as the “singing beautician”. Admission to her show includes dinner and a rinse.

KATHERINE MCPHEE -- Waiting for Linda Eder to retire so she can take over her career.

SCOTT SAVOL -- Just released his first CD: “Love Me or I’ll Beat the Shit Out of You”. Fan base mostly in prison.

AMANDA AVILA – (pictured right) trying to launch a singing career through her myspace page. Fan base mostly in prison.

KEVIN COVAIS (Chicken Little) – Graduated high school, now a mercenary in Rwanda. Sings Barry Manilow songs for the rebels to boost morale following a failed coup.

MIKALAH GORDON – Co-hosts AMERICAN IDOL EXTRA on cable channel 967. The buzz is she is now almost abrasive and overbearing enough to be considered for co-host of THE VIEW.

ANTHONY FEDOROV – Found better luck in his homeland. Is the current Ukrainian Idol. Really excelled on Anzhelika Rudnytska night.

MANDISA – Joining the “Legends” show at a downtown Las Vegas hotel, where singers impersonate legends (living and dead). She’ll be appearing as Fantasia.

JOHN STEVENS – Listed in Wikipedia as a former American Classic Pop Singer. Former? Jesus! He’s only 20.

JENNIFER HUDSON – Rumored to have won an Oscar. Could be the next Judi Dench.

CHARLES GRIGSBY -- Paula Abdul’s personal assistant. Hours are from midnight to two.

RUBEN STUDDARD – No one knows?

A WOMAN SAT DEAD IN FRONT OF HER TV SET FOR 42 YEARS

Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who responded to yesterday’s post. Your all-too-generous comments were greatly appreciated. Especially since – in the last two years – I’ve been accused of being a racist, sexist, plagiarist, toxic, homophobic, greedy, narcissistic, demented and my writing has been termed vile, hateful, irresponsible, and the unkindest cut of all – not funny.

The only one of those I really resent is being called demented. That's harsh and unfair.

So it’s heartening to read your lovely supportive comments. Thanks again.

Here’s a true story I’d love to see them do on COLD CASE. It was reported by the DailyRecord.co.uk:

A WOMAN SAT DEAD IN FRONT OF HER TELEVISION SET FOR 42 YEARS.

Zagreb resident Hedviga Golik fixed herself a cup of tea and sat down in her favorite armchair to watch a little TV. This was 1966. Her remains were discovered last week. The cup of tea was still by her side.

She was found by local authorities who had broken in in an effort to determine who owned the flat.

Neighbors thought she had just moved out.

A police spokesman said: "So far, we have no idea how it is possible that someone officially reported missing so long ago was not found before in the same apartment she used to live in.”

Uh, yeah… we’re heading into some serious Inspector Clouseau country here.

I know it’s a horrible story but I just can’t help imaging police breaking down the door, guns drawn, entering the living room and discovering this 42 year old corpse watching golf.

Yeah, hell. That person is right. I am demented.

Let's Do The Mind Warp Again

Our daughter had her first-ever dance recital on Sunday, and from the costumes to the venue to the performances, the whole thing was quite impressive. Ballet, tap, African — you name it, these kids danced it. It put my fourth-grade class' production of "Melvin the Magnificent" to shame.

Anyway, I was sitting there feeling all proud for getting her involved in an affirmative, body-positive activity when an adult belly dance troupe came on. I instantly engaged in an ugly internal dialogue that my friend K. would say proves his theory that all women are broken — or at least crazy. Some of the dancers were large, and they let their bare bellies hang out in all their glory. Instead of thinking, "Wow, it's nice to see some women who aren't skinny but who love their bodies," my brain said, "Gaaah! Don't they know their stomachs are big? Why are they showing them to people?!"

I don't have a flat stomach. At all. I don't know that it's ever been truly flat, except for a few weeks after a nasty bout with mononucleosis in 1991. And it's not like my clothing size is at the petite end of the spectrum. So the fact that my judgment of these women was so immediately negative is appalling and embarrassing. It also showed me — again — how completely I've bought into Madison Avenue's screwed up idea of what the female form ought to look like, despite knowing better. Why couldn't I focus on what they were doing (which was dancing really well) instead of what their stomachs looked like?

My friend J. had a similar reaction once when looking at pictures of some plus-sized models. In her rational mind, she knew these women were, you know, models. But her first thought was, "Her legs are huge." Her second thought was, "OK, that first thought was seriously fucked up." You know the standard is warped when the insanely fit Beyonce — who is, what, a size six or eight, tops? — is referred to as being representative of "real" women. (What does that even mean? Are naturally thin women somehow not real?)

While I want my children to be healthy, I don't want to pass along this kind of crappy thinking. Young children tend to comment on people's size without judgment, but they learn very quickly that society has other ideas. The first time I heard my beanpole son describe another kid as "fat" — in less than neutral terms — I read him the riot act. Then he had to listen to my stories about being a chunky kid, and it all went downhill from there. I think it ended with him saying, "OK, OK!"

So maybe I'm saying all the right things, but I'm not thinking them. Maybe I ought to sign up for a belly dancing class.

My 1,000th post!

It’s only taken 2 1/2 years, several dozen anonymous hate comments I’ve had to delete, a post that led to a big brouhaha in the LA Times, numerous snarky award show and AMERICAN IDOL reviews, travelogues, movie previews, war stories, script samples, writing advice, and just general rants on anything that comes to mind whether I’m informed or not…but I have now reached 1000 posts. (For fun, here’s the very first one.)

When I began this little experiment in self indulgence a fellow blogger suggested I post at least a couple times a week in order to attract readers. So I decided why not post daily and really build a huge audience? So I did and it worked! Within three months I was getting six or seven people an hour!

Posting daily became a habit and now, incredibly, after 2 1/2 years I’m getting twice that many!

More importantly, I’ve made a lot of new friends.

And then there’s the blog swag. I’ve gotten a few books, DVD’s, and even an Astroglide mug!

This has been a fun hobby, a great outlet, and I look forward to the next thousand, although by then I should be so out of material that I’ll be telling you what I had for breakfast and what songs are on my iPod like those airhead teenagers on Facebook.

So anyway…

Today I want to hear from you. Especially you new readers and lurkers. How’d you find the blog? How long have you been aboard? Where in the world are you? What topics do you want to see more of (and less of)? Any suggestions ? When I write a TV show or a play I have the benefit of hearing an audience. But when I write a post and hit “send” it just goes out there… in silence. So it would be nice to get some feedback. I look forward to hearing from you (although I might regret that).

Thanks for your support and sticking with this blog. I know that out of 1,000 posts not every one can be a gem. Two, maybe three had to really suck.

Ken

Stage Parents: Wow, I struck a nerve with this one

Here’s another Natalie Wood picture but this time it’s because she is relevant to the post.

Getting a lot of fireworks on my recent article about stage parents. Check the comment section. Diana DeGarmo’s mother responded to my piece (hint: she didn’t love it), which set off a flurry of other responses.

First of all, I thank her for writing. As a humble little blogger it’s always an honor to receive first-hand reactions from people mentioned in my pieces. And if they spark debate, that’s even better.

I’ll let you decide where you stand on this issue. But I must offer my strong opinion that stage parents do exist and they can be very harmful to their children. Read any biography on Natalie Wood (see, I toldja it would all tie in).

Not all kids who go into show business are scarred for life. And not all supportive parents are monsters. But there are some. MANY.

I mean, for godsakes, Lindsey Lohan’s mother used her daughter’s success to get her own reality show.

Fortunately, I can't see Diana DeGarmo ever appearing in the tabloids or her mom hosting KID NATION anytime soon.

Game on, people!

I post this essay every year but even if you've read it, it's a good reminder. As for the above picture, I couldn't find anything really appropriate so when that happens I post Natalie Wood photos. What can I say? I love Natalie Wood.

Now that the networks have announced their fall schedules...

IT’S STAFFING SEASON!!!!

When a showrunner hears from the network that his pilot is not being picked up, his typical reaction is “Oh shit!” If he hears that it is getting a pick up, his reaction is also “Oh shit!” Because now he has to make the show. First order of business is putting together a staff and crew. Showrunners will get calls from agents they’ve never met, climbing on the phone and saying “Hey, guy, how was your weekend?” Like they give a shit how your weekend was. Submissions will be arriving by the truckload.

MAKE SURE YOUR SPEC IS ONE OF THEM.

You’ve slaved away for months. You’ve given it to people you trust and have revised and polished it. You’ve wisely taken out that dream sequence. Now you’re ready.

A couple of things to remember: Readers WANT to like your script. You may only get five or six pages to grab them but they’re desperately looking for the next great writer. Even if there are 500 scripts in the pile, if yours is good it’s going to be recognized. So make sure it’s in that pile.

If you have ANY connections, now is the time to use them. Call in favors. Reconnect with your estranged father. Email your former fiancée who you caught sleeping with your estranged father if her new boyfriend is in the biz. Drop the lawsuit against her even if she’ll make a call on your behalf. So what if it’s humiliating? You’re a writer. Get used to humiliation.

If you can get an agent, even a shitty agent, get him. As long as the agent is a WGA signatory you’re in business. It doesn’t matter that he’s currently renting Philip Marlowe’s old office and his last successful client wrote for MR. PEEPERS. You can do the legwork yourself. Print a bunch of copies of your spec, get his office to stamp them, then send them out yourself.

In some cases being with a small agency can be a plus because if you’re with WMA you know your agent has bigger clients he’s going to push first. That said, if WMA will take you on, thank the Gods and take it.

Check to see which, if any, studio will accept unsolicited scripts.

And finally, send your script to EVERY show you can. Don’t be picky. Send it to network shows, C/W, cable shows, Disney Channel shows, the Cartoon Network – anybody.

The goal is to get noticed. The goal is to impress. The goal is to get hired.

New writers will get their first break this staffing season. New writers will get discovered. Why not you??

Now get on that pile!!!

FRASIER: Room Service

David Isaacs and I wrote seven episodes of FRASIER. This is my favorite -- "Room Service". And this is my favorite scene. Directed by David Lee and featuring Bebe Neuwirth, David Hyde Pierce, Kelsey Grammer, and a superb cameo by John Ducey as the waiter.

Reason No. 5

This video of Chris Matthews going OFF on blowhard radio host Kevin James is nothing short of sublime. Keep watching. It just gets better and better.

Well played, Chris.

Four Reasons To Be Happy

1. Coldplay is touring this year!
2. "Train in Vain" — my favorite Clash song — is now available for download on Rock Band.
3. Gail Simone + Aaron Lopresti = Awesome new "Wonder Woman" issue.
4. The Great Daryl Nathan, who must be seen to be believed.

That's all.

It's that Upfronts time of the year

In case you might have blinked, the annual network Upfronts were this week. It’s the annual ritual where the major networks roll out their new fall schedules with great fanfare and entice Madison Avenue to buy advertising “upfront” for these new schedules based on a few clips and pilots that will be retooled or scrapped, committing billions of dollars on nothing more than blind faith. As I describe the process in my play – it’s as if you put an off-track betting window in a mental institution.

But this year it’s all been very low key, which begs the question – if the networks themselves aren’t excited about these new schedules why should we be? The networks claim they’re now adopted a new business model, programming year round. What that means is they’re waiting until midseason to roll out most of their new product (or recycled shows picked up after other networks canceled them).

In the past that’s been a good strategy, launch shows without the clutter and competition of all those fall premieres. But now that they’re all launching them together in January what’s the point? It reminds me of a bit from a HONEYMOONERS episode. Ralph and Ed have to move a heavy dresser. Ed gets the brainstorm that it would be easier if they removed the drawers. So they do… and then put them on top of the dresser.

Certainly the writers strike has been a factor. But I think the networks see that more as a convenient excuse to make fewer pilots and spend less money. In that regard I can’t blame them. For years they’ve wasted gobs of money on scripts and pilots that never got on the air. Their batting average has to be worse than Andruw Jones’.

But the answer is not to make fewer pilots. It’s to make BETTER pilots.

Hire the right people and let them carry out their vision. Trust them.

THE SOPRANOS never could have been hatched in the current system where the creator is bombarded with helpful input. Neither could SEINFELD, THE SIMPSONS, DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, THE WIRE, FAMILY GUY, LOST, ER, DEXTER, and all those other good, I mean HIT shows.

Take a chance – set up your own off-track betting window. Let someone like James Gandolfini star in one of your shows even though he has a face like a knee. Give a writer who’s old enough to have a colonoscopy a shot to do the show he’s always wanted to do. You could be hugely rewarded.

And that excitement that is so clearly missing this Upfronts season will be back. Your horse will finally come in. .. while the so-called “experts” put all their money on K-VILLE to win.

Why Does Work Suck?

I've been thinking a lot about work lately. Not just my specific job, but also the general nature of work. I've had great bosses and terrible ones, stimulating jobs and sleep-inducing jobs. By and large, I think I've been lucky. I've never been fired, and while I haven't gotten every job I wanted, I got some of them. Even if the job was a bad fit, I always met a handful of people who became (and remain) good friends.

However, I'm struck by how few people I know who truly love, or even like their jobs. Maybe they don't hate their work, but I can count the number who seem truly fulfilled on one hand. Part of that is because I have a lot of friends in the newspaper industry, which is imploding. But according to several surveys I've read, it's a widespread problem. This article said that only 50 percent of American workers are satisfied with their jobs, down from 79 percent in 1985. That is staggering.

From what I've seen, the problem isn't necessarily the work. It's crappy/incompetent bosses and office politics that get in the way of actually doing the work. I get the sense that many people don't feel empowered to perform their jobs to the best of their ability, and that's a shame. I know the world is also full of lazy people who do enough just to get by, who blame their problems on others. That's a given. But when smart, talented, energetic people feel stymied, that's depressing. The horror stories told by Florida's state workers are legendary. And since I live in Tallahassee, I've heard a lot of them over the years. I don't know that private industry is all that much better, aside from the pay.

The floor is open. Why does the modern-day workplace suck so much?

They're your kids, not your clients

There should be a special place in hell reserved for stage parents. They should spend all eternity having to watch Hillary Clinton star as GYPSY and do her own singing.

The latest example of this unique form of child abuse is AMERICAN IDOL hopeful David Archuleta’s overbearing father being banned from rehearsals. No wonder when little David has to speak he sounds like a whipped puppy. You would too if your dad was the Great Santini. It’s hard enough to sing “Imagine” but when your dad is bouncing a basketball off your head during rehearsal it must really be tough.

Under the guise of “only wanting the best for their children” these parents drive their little meal tickets so hard that most wind up totally fucked up and the lucky few turn out like Brian Wilson . Social Services, please, take these kids away before they’re cast in ANNIE!

If Michael Jackson didn’t have the stage father from hell I’m sure he would have had a different life… and face.

You hear stories of toddlers standing in audition lines, 2 year olds wearing tiaras. Judy Garland was on diets and pills before she was old enough to smoke (seven).

A few years ago I went to an AMERICAN IDOL dress rehearsal and met the contestants in the make-up room. Diana DeGarmo had one of these hovering oppressive mothers. The AI staff member introduced me and mentioned some of my credits. All of the kids feigned giving a shit, politely said hello, and I left. Two minutes later Diana DeGarmo literally came sprinting down the hallway after me. She shook my hand, said what a pleasure it was to meet me, couldn’t have been more effusive and bubbly. And as she was doing this all I kept thinking was, “I bet her mother said ‘Diana, didn’t you hear what they just said? He’s a Hollywood PRODUCER. Get your ass out there and introduce yourself to that fucking idiot NOW!'”

I felt so sorry for her. As I do for all those kids who have auditioned for me over the years.

Whenever there’s a casting call, there they are – little robots just out of school, nicely dressed, sitting obediently in a room while their stage parents read VARIETY, check their Blackberrys for callbacks, and scream at agents on their cellphones. Meanwhile, these kids’ classmates are playing baseball, hanging out in the mall, ripping people on Facebook, drinking when no one’s looking -- you know, normal healthy kid activities.

And sometimes when the choice is down to two and they’re pretty equal I choose the one who I think would be screamed at the loudest if he didn’t get the part. How sad is that?

And the “lucky” ones who get the roles don’t get off too easy either.

I directed a few episodes of a series that featured a kid. He was a grizzled world-weary middle-aged man trapped inside the body of an eight-year-old. That was ten years ago. Today he’s probably golfing with Henry Kissinger.

The loss of childhood is not worth becoming an American Idol or a New Mouseketeer. In the name of all that’s decent and Natalie Wood, let your kids be kids. Let them have their own dreams.

Note to Mr. Archuleta: one loving father is worth more than 30,000,000 votes.

Behind The (Wedding) Veil: It's Not Pretty

A friend of mine told me that an otherwise wonderful woman he knows has gone crazy planning her daughter's wedding. I believe the exact phrase was, "She's lost her fucking mind." We've shared many stories about the particular insanity that surrounds a certain kind of Southern, first-time wedding. They are all outrageous. And they are all true.

We're cruising into bridal season, and it's interesting to observe 11 years removed from my own wedding. It seemed pretty reasonable at the time, because it's not like we had a gigantic budget. But from my older, crankier perspective, it looks like a carnival of tulle, tulips and satin. Did I mention the complete loss of perspective? I distinctly remember arguing with my proper, Baptist mother about whether I should wear long gloves to counteract my (apparently scandalous) sleeveless gown. We went back and forth in the shop until my then-17-year-sister snapped and said, "Look, she doesn't want the gloves. OK?!"

Since then, I've been to a lot of weddings — some that didn't result in lasting marriages. That's not a criticism, but a statement of the obvious. When you consider the fact that half will end in divorce, it's amazing that people can summon the optimism (delusion?) to get married in the first place. So when I see all those young, starry-eyed couples in the newspaper's "Celebrations" section, well, I just hope they're not completely high on pixie dust. Good luck to them.

Anyway, that conversation with my friend got me thinking of some of the more memorable events and issues from my tours of duty as a wedding guest/participant:

Choreography: My husband was a groomsman in a wedding where the bridesmaids were doing some kind of swaying thing to a Luther Vandross song. At one point, each groomsman had to twirl the bridesmaid they were paired with. Oh, and the maid of honor did a dramatic pose on her way to the altar that was straight out of the Ebony Fashion Fair.

Courtship Re-enactments: I've been to at least two rehearsal dinners where the couple showed videos intended to represent their courtship. They included walks on the beach, fireworks and campus strolls. My friend M. was so floored by this idea that she came right out and asked, "Is this a black thing?"

Lutherization/Mariahzation: This refers to the tendency of certain soloists to emote shamelessly, no matter what they're singing. I don't know if you've ever heard the hymn "Sweet, Sweet Spirit," but melisma doesn't make it more soulful. More tedious, perhaps, but not soulful.

The Electric Slide: I think this one is a black thing, because I've seen it at almost wedding among my people. What gives? Just because everybody can do it doesn't make it a good idea. And I'm convinced that the accompanying song, along with "Macarena," is on the playlist in hell.

My advice to my kids will be to spend more time thinking about the marriage than the wedding and the honeymoon. And no re-enactment films, please.

AMERICAN IDOL: Top 3

The fun weeks of AMERICAN IDOL are over. All the interesting stoners, tattoo ladies, hayseeds, emotional wrecks, biker chicks, foreigners, cretins, cheerleaders, divas, endomorphs, satyrs, and future serial killers have been voted off. Now it’s down to three and you know who’s going to win so it’s kind of like dragging a dead horse across the finish line to shoot it.

Sorry to say but AMERICAN IDOL has jumped the shark. I think it was the night Danny Noriega sang “Jailrock Rock.”

The format has gotten tiresome. We’re sick of seeing the damn Coca Cola backdrop. Tired of saying “Who the hell is that?” after each audience shot of a so-called “celebrity” (like we’re supposed to recognize the great Diane Warren). And bored to tears of hearing “in the zone,” “ you look gorgeous tonight”, and “you could sing the phone book, dawg”. At least Paula mixes it up by critiquing performances that hadn't happened yet.

If there was a theme this week it was “going through the motions”. David Archuleta, without the benefit of his dad Geppetto (banned from rehearsals by producers – my post tomorrow is on stage parents and why they should all be shot out of cannons) sang one of Billy Joel’s lesser efforts, then got down with “With You” displaying a funky side we haven’t seen since the Carpenters, and finally – the douchiest love song maybe ever, “Longer”. I contend it's impossible to sit through that song if you have a gag reflex.

But the little girls in the Idoldome screamed. So who cares? He’s going to win.

The one stand-out performance for me was David Cook singing Roberta Flack’s 70s hit, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” (or, as I used to call it in my disc jockey days – “The First Time Ever Your Face was Sawed”.) Too bad he’s going to lose. His other two songs were better than anyone else’s. Too bad he’s going to lose. I think the Democratic Convention will have more suspense than the crowning of this year's Idol.

Poor Syesha Mercado was just schmuck bait – someone else to fill out the show. She sang her heart out, vamped, and even danced in slacks. And I’m sure as you read this they’re doing the final edits on her “have a nice life” tribute video. But not winning doesn't mean she'll have no career. Former losers have gone on to be huge rock stars, win Oscars, appear on Broadway, and lose ten pounds on the CELEBRITY FIT CLUB.

Next week I’ll just recap the finale. Although truthfully, I could be like Paula and just review it now.

Bring back BACK TO YOU

There is a grassroots campaign to save BACK TO YOU. Fox canceled it but CBS is supposedly interested. I always thought CBS would be a better place for it anyway.

There is a petition you can sign to show your support.

Best of luck and if it works I'm starting a petition for ALMOST PERFECT.

AMERICAN IDOL recap to follow shortly.

Summer Movie Previews: the inevitable sequel

WALL –E – Pixar space movie from the director of FINDING NEMO. Robots have to clean up Earth, which has become a giant trash dump. Set twelve years in the future.

THE LOVE GURU – Mike Myers plays another painfully unfunny character in a movie that, judging by the trailer, could be the worst comedy ever made. And that includes STOP! OR MY MOM WILL SHOOT starring Mr. Funny Boots, Sylvester Stallone.

WANTED – A nerd is recruited by a secret society and turned into a lightning fast superhero. Has a love scene with Angelina Jolie but she doesn't know it.

SPACE CHIMPS – Ohmygod, is this what Stanley Tucci’s career has come to?

HELLBOY II: THE GOLDEN ARMY – The superhero who looks like pitcher Randy Johnson with two cans of Spam wedged into his forehead is back to save the world. If ever a movie was made to be shown on a one-inch iPod screen this is it.

JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH 3-D: Or for those with bad depth perception – JOURNEY TO THE WORST HEADACHE OF YOUR LIFE.

KENNY – I was so honored that a movie was named after me until I learned Kenny delivers and maintains Porta-potties.

THE DARK KNIGHT – Christian Bale returns as the Batman who could use a prescription of Zoloft or a blowjob. At least the Joker has a few laughs.

MAMA MIA! -- Film adaptation of the smash hit musical. Starring Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan. I worry that they won’t do justice to those brilliant Abba songs.

BRIDESHEAD REVISITED – I guess this is a remake of the PBS television series because the ad line is “See it without the pledge breaks!”

STEP BROTHERS – John C. Reilly and Will Ferrell in a slacker movie. A three minute SNL sketch stretched to 90.

THE X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE – Mulder and Scully are back, this time trying to prove the existence of their careers.

MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN – Take that vegans!

THE MUMMY: TOMB OF THE DRAGON EMPEROR – Indiana Jones with an Ace bandage.

HELL RIDE – Rival motorcycle gangs starring Dennis Hopper and Michael Madsen. The AARP version of THE WILD ONE.

THE PINEAPPLE EXPRESS – A stoner comedy starring Seth Rogen from the Judd Apatow assembly line. Expect the first dick joke to come before the opening Sony Pictures logo.

SWING VOTE – An election comes down to one voter – Kevin Costner. Based on the year DANCES WITH WOLVES won as Best Picture.

MIRRORS – Keifer Sutherland as a security cop in an abandoned department store. Jack Bauer can save the world but can he save Macy’s?

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS – Even they’re copying themselves now.

TROPIC THUNDER – A war film shooting in Southeast Asia turns into reality. Who hasn’t seen PLATOON and thought, “There’s a comedy in this subject matter”? Stars Ben Stiller and looks funny.

YOU DON’T MESS WITH THE ZOHAN – Adam Sandler as an Israeli commando who becomes a hairstylist in New York. A one joke premise, goofy accent and “smell my feet” gag in the trailer. I don't think I will mess with this movie.

The only superhero who doesn't have his own movie this summer is the Teeny Little Super Guy from SESAME STREET and the only comedian-who-was-once-funny-and-is-now-kinda-sad that doesn't have a high concept idiotic premise comedy is Jim Carrey. So at least we have something to be thankful for this summer.

Tomorrow: AMERICAN IDOL recap

Parade of Envy

I have mixed feelings about Tallahassee's annual Parade of Homes.

I'm all for dreaming big, and I love looking inside certain kinds of houses. There's something about good craftsmanship and architectural detail that makes me happy. And while I consider myself a realist, I think it's fine to admire things that are out of your range and say, "I'd like to have this some day." Gives you something to shoot for.

But the flip side of that is, well, reality. And the reality is that Tallahassee isn't known for its plethora of high-paying jobs. Yet, home prices here are high considering the city's size and its isolation from other major cities in the state. They're dirt cheap compared to what my friends in D.C. are paying — but this isn't D.C.

Combine those facts with the current economy, and I can't help but wonder what the people behind this event are smoking. While flipping through the glossy PoH guide, I saw plenty of lovely if unspectacular homes — the kind that evoke images of a normal, middle-class family with two kids and a dog. Except those "normal" homes were, in my opinion, outrageously priced for this market. Houses like this one are typical. I know people who could swing it, but it's a stretch to call them middle-class. They're affluent. (Again, I apologize to big-city friends who are fainting with envy. I realize you couldn't buy a closet for these prices where you live. But you get better concerts.)

I could see if this were a destination for young (and not-so-young) professionals NOT connected with government, but it isn't. Tallahassee is full of people who are educated up the wazoo but who aren't making the money they would in Atlanta or even Jacksonville. For years, the attitude was that those people could pack their shit and move to Atlanta or Jacksonville if they didn't like it — but there is a growing realization that an ongoing exodus of youngish professionals is bad for the city in the long run. Stemming that tide will require the creation of higher-paying jobs, so that hardworking people can see themselves owning a nice house one day. Tallahassee is a gorgeous city compared to the rest of Florida, but it'll take more than trees.

So the question remains: Who's buying these houses? And what is the point of showcasing homes that are out of the reach of so many people? I count myself as someone who benefitted (at least on paper) from the housing bubble, so I can't imagine how hopeless this must look to someone who hasn't even gotten into the game. Even the "affordable" houses are more than we paid eight years ago.

I'm skipping the Parade this year, unless my numbers hit.