I Hate You, Disney

God help me, but I think I like this song. I'm trying to reprogram my brain with lots of Elvis Costello, but it might be too late. Should the day arrive when I actually have a favorite Jonas Brother, my husband has instructions to call the men in white coats.

Damn you, Disney Channel.

From radio to TV and back

Jay Thomas played goalie Eddie LeBec on CHEERS. But of course he’s best remembered as Susan Dey’s love interest in that smoldering romantic comedy LOVE & WAR. I’ve known Jay for thirty years. At one time we were disc jockeys together at the same station. His name came up at a dinner party (shows you the swinging parties I go to) and someone wondered if Jay was the biggest name to go from radio to television?

Aside from Ronald Reagan (and we all know that tired baseball recreation yarn) who became President of the United States (a position I suppose would qualify as most successful), I’d have to say actor-wise, Bob Crane. Throughout the early ‘60’s he was the morning man on KNX, Los Angeles before leaving to star in HOGAN’S HEROES. Radio remained in his blood, however, as evidenced by his obsession with porn.

A number of celebs got their start on the wireless. Gary Owens, certainly. He remained on KMPC, Los Angeles even during his LAUGH IN days. David Letterman’s career began as a platter spinner in Indiana (imitating Gary Owens). Wink Martindale was a jock before becoming a game show host, but I don’t know if game show host counts. Same with Jim Lange.

Dick Clark built an empire. So did Norman Lear (If I told you he wrote for the Martha Raye show would you even know who that was?)

Tennessee Ernie Ford spun the hits on KFXM in San Bernardino before his “sixteen tons” of fame. And Sly Stone was a GREAT jock in Oakland before forming the “family” band and taking four thousand drugs.

Robert David Hall, the coroner on CSI hailed originally from radio. And Marv Albert took your requests and dedications of WOLF, Syracuse prior to becoming the voice and toupee of the NBA.

A number of old time radio writers made the switch, none more successful or gifted than Larry Gelbart.

The late (and I miss him already) George Carlin toiled on KDAY, Santa Monica back in the day. Where do you think he got the thirteen things you can’t say on the air?

I’m sure you know of one or two (or thirty) that I missed.

Interestingly, a number of celebs are going the other way, from music and TV careers into radio. Steve Harvey, Smokey Robinson (who could talk right up to vocals with the best of ‘em), Chaka Kahn, Sinbad, Al Franken, Chad Stuart (from Chad & Jeremy) Steve Van Zandt, Janine Garafolo, Isaac Hayes, Ramsey Lewis, Tom Petty, and now, incredibly, Bob Dylan (on XM). And radio to TV people have returned to radio, if only to dabble in it. I'm doing Dodger stuff and KABC and Jay Thomas is back on the air on Sirius. At least to hear me you don't have to pay.

We’ve all got to come from somewhere. As a comedy writer, I found radio to be an invaluable training ground. You learn to be creative on-demand each and every day. You learn to be brief. You learn to be funny within a specific format. You learn how to file for unemployment.

And best of all, once you get out of radio to do something else you’ll find you finally get the respect among radio people you never received when you were actually working in radio. The best thing that could have ever happened for my radio career was to get into television.

And maybe the flip side will be true too. Maybe Al Franken will become the senator of Minnesota. That’s almost as good as President.

The DARK KNIGHT

I thought I'd wait until most of you saw it.
Why would anyone live in Gotham City? Jesus! You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting six mob bosses. And then there’s the town’s super psycho villain – they couldn’t find someone a little more aesthetically pleasing? Children watch those televised truck chases too, y’know. And Juneau appears to have more daytime in the winter than Gotham City. Does it get dark everyday at noon?

The skyline is harsh and impersonal. All that’s missing are smokestacks and an American Girl Place Experience.

No wonder a suped-up roadster/tank can get around in relative ease and drive at 100 mph through heavily populated city streets. Until Allstate offers “explosion insurance”, who wants to drive at night there?

Not that I feel sorry for the citizens. They have this superhero who seems to save them from annihilation every few weeks and he’s less popular than Andruw Jones with Dodger fans. What does a bat have to do to get some love in that kooky town?

And how stupid are these criminals? Why not just move their operations to Scottsdale. Let’s see how well Batman and Spiderman fly around when the tallest building is a four story Holiday Inn.

I don’t know what’s a worse job – Police Commissioner of Gotham City or President of their Tourist Bureau. Note to summer sight-seers: stay off the ferries.

Quick aside: Wouldn’t you love to see AMERICAN IDOL open auditions in Gotham City? Paula would be mistaken for the Joker.

I used to think the Joker was a brilliant mastermind until I realized a number of his fiendish plots were a direct lift from SAW.

DARK KNIGHT was a fun ride and Heath Ledger steals the movie (and everything else). But is it just me? I’m reaching the superhero saturation point. I’ve sympathized enough with tortured reluctant caped crusaders. And these movies all seem to turn on the heroes’ inability to kill the mass murderer psychopath villain because of some “code”. That doesn’t seem real. Oh… wait. We’re talking about guys who wear spandex suits and can fly – strike that last objection.

DARK KNIGHT is worth seeing but please Hollywood, no more comic books. The only character left is Bazooka Joe.

The Next Level

In general, I've been very happy with the progress I've made with personal fitness over the last six months. More than a few people have noticed the weight loss, and in many ways, I feel better than I have in a long time. My feet no longer hurt at the end of the day, and my shoulders aren't all knotted up with tension. I sleep better, have more patience with my kids and (best of all), I can buy a few things from the Misses section — and they fit. Believe me, that is a very big deal.

But sometimes, I'm confronted by the fact that I have a long way to go. For starters, I'm still overweight. Nothing to do there but continue eating wisely and keep going to the gym and to the pool. I mean, I can wear shorts without scaring people, but it still kinda sucks. I know we're not supposed to compare ourselves with others, but everybody goes there sometimes. And I have a habit of picking the smallest, leanest women to measure myself against.

I've been talking to a friend about training to run a 5K, but the internal voices of mockery have already piped up. They became especially vicious when I read a copy Runner's World magazine over the weekend. The magazine was accessible and full of helpful tips for new runners, but by the time I slunk out of Borders, I felt like I might as well consider taking up competitive gymnastics.

For completely illogical reasons, I have always thought of running as something I can't do. I associate it with thin people who have a high tolerance for pain — people like my husband, who thinks a five-mile run is "fun." Or like my friend H., who is incredibly disciplined about fitness and goal-oriented. Obviously, I have a some discipline and pain tolerance, or I wouldn't be dragging my ass out of bed a 5;05 a.m. to work out. But running seems to exist at some other "Chariots of Fire" level.

My husband says this is silly; that anybody with decent knees, shoes and gumption can become a runner. He claims I've overcome much larger obstacles, if not physical ones. Then he starts saying crazy things like, "It's 90-percent mental."

Hmmm. Don't cue Vangelis just yet.

A day in the life of covering Manny Ramirez

Now that Britney Spears is wearing underwear and O.J. Simpson is on trial somewhere else, LA has been desperate for a good story. Thank God for Manny Ramirez! When the Boston Red Sox unloaded their twelve-time All-star future Hall-of-Famer to the Dodgers for essentially a day pass to Universal Studios, it set off the kind of mass media hysteria normally reserved for the Pope’s visit or the premiere of THE LOVE GURU.

As co-host of Dodger Talk with Josh Suchon on KABC radio in Los Angeles I was at Dodger Stadium for Manny’s big debut. Join me as I relive that day. Kudos to the Dodgers P.R. staff for essentially organizing the Yalta Conference on two hour’s notice. Incredibly, everything ran smoothly. They deserve the game balls.
2:45

I arrived at the Stadium, five hours before game time. A press conference was scheduled for 4:00 on the field behind home plate. Camera crews were already setting up. This was going to be televised live across America and Korea. The Press Box, usually empty at this hour was already buzzing. Dedicated sports journalists who I hadn’t seen since opening day were catching up with one another. Has it really been two months since the NBA Finals?

KABC has its own booth in the Press Box (conveniently located next to the storage room) where we do our nightly post-game talk show. But today the station’s afternoon show would emanate from there as well, so it was like the Germans invading Paris.

3:30

Went downstairs to the Dodger Clubhouse. It was packed with reporters. Players asked such questions as “What do you think about Manny joining the team?” and “You are who again?” I hung with Hiroki Kuroda because he seemed lonely.

3:45

Ventured out to the field where the assembled crowd was now larger than the AMERICAN IDOL open auditions. Every local TV outlet was represented, usually with three-person crews – the cameraman in T-shirt and shorts, the on-air guy in a suit, and a smoking hot producer (although I’m sure each producer has a doctorate or at least a masters in Communication). There were some super hot on-air reporters too, just back from Iraq I’m sure. A few Boston scribes were in attendance, their last precious chance to get in a slam piece on Manny.

There was a cluster of reporters around wine maker Tommy Lasorda, obviously all wondering how he can get his Montepulcian D’Abruzzo to be so playfully articulate. Another group surrounded Manny’s uber agent Scott Boras. The answer to every question required a dollar amount.

4:00

It must have been 100 degrees. The Dodgers couldn’t get Manny in May?

Security personnel in intimidating white Dodger golf shirts parted the crowd as the rock star himself, Manny Ramirez appeared and walked to the makeshift podium. He expressed his excitement at playing in L.A. beginning every sentence with “As I said…” I wanted to ask, “Manny, as you said when?” He ducked all the Boston questions (big surprise) but the media had more important issues to address – would he cut his dreadlocks and why was he wearing number 99? He said he would be getting a trim as per manager Joe Torre’s request to which one reporter asked, “Are you going to be selling your hair on ebay?”

He answered many of the questions in Spanish. A Japanese reporter was standing next to me furiously jotting down his answers.

One journalist offered to give Manny a tour of Los Angeles which he graciously declined saying “I bought a navigation system.”

Another asked if he would pursue acting. There may have been one or two actual baseball related questions but I can’t think of any.

4:30

After the Press Conference the team took batting practice and 4,000 cameras clicked as Manny dribbled a ground ball to third. The Pulitzer committee will have to determine which was the best.

4:45

Joe Torre met with reporters in the dugout. Pushing room only. After a barrage of Manny questions the guys who cover the team more than twice a year began asking about other players and you'd think someone yelled "Fire!" By the end there were the usual ten of us.

6:00

The gates opened and the crowd started pouring in. 12,000 tickets were purchased within the last 24 hours. Manny Mania is real. The last time the fans were this excited was fleece blanket night a few years ago.

I went back up to the Press Box. Josh and I did an hour pre-game show on KABC. The afternoon host was promoting our program all day, constantly mispronouncing my name even though he was corrected fifty times. It’s great to have the respect of your colleagues.

We interviewed Dodgers General Manager, Ned Colletti about the trade. Two days ago our callers all wanted him drawn & quartered and then fired. Today he’s the best G.M. ever.

I did a bit where I called my wife on the air and asked if I could bring home a houseguest for the next few months. She was happy to have Manny stay with us but did have some conditions. He would have to do chores, not sleep in our room, and keep kosher. I said she would have to negotiate with Scott Boras.

Lost in all this hoopla was that the Dodgers were playing the Diamondbacks – the greatest rivalry in sports.

7:00

Ducked into the Press Lounge for dinner. Jammed. Couldn’t get a seat.

7:30

The stadium was packed. S.R.O. Quite a contrast from a week ago when the Dodgers hosted the Washington Nationals. Took my normal spot on press row just in time for the National Anthem, painfully and interminably performed by some sitcom star I had never heard of. P.A. announcer Eric Smith (whose voice is so deep he makes God sound like Betty Boop) launched into the starting lineups. Enthusiastic applause. When Manny’s name was announced the place went bonkers. Three players later Andruw Jones’ name was met with 55,000 boos – just because he’s having the worst offensive season in the history of baseball and making $36 million. This was a rough crowd.

8:02

Manny stepped to the plate for the first time as a Dodger. The crowd went wild. I was disappointed his intro music wasn’t “Dirty Water” or “Sweet Caroline”. Manny grounded out. Still, a huge cheer.

8:18

Andruw Jones’ first at-bat. Booooooo! Called strike three. BOOOOOO!!

8:53

Manny’s second at-bat. Single to left. Thunderous applause. You’d think it was another earthquake.

9:02

Diamondback Chris Burke hit a ball over the shortstop’s head to left. Manny loped over too late to cut it off and the single became a triple. Not a lot of applause for that play.

9:11

Andruw Jones’ second at-bat. Strike three swinging. BOOOOOO!

9:40

Manny’s third at-bat. Slow roller to the right of the mound. He legs it out for a single. The crowd was about to cheer when Dodger runner Matt Kemp got tagged out for getting stuck between two bases. The fans didn’t know what to do.

9:53

Andruw Jones’ third-at-bat. Ground out to third. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

10:28

Bottom of the 9th. Dodgers down by a run. Runner at first. Nobody out. And who should step to the plate but Manny Ramirez The noise was deafening. Not a single person had left the park. The stage was set for one of those classic heroic endings you would remember your whole life.

Manny grounded into a double play.

10:31

Dodgers lose 2-1.

10:50

Back in the booth to do post game Dodger Talk. My kind of audience. 50,000 people trapped in parking lots.

12:05

Walked out of the park. Tonight was a throwback to eras past, when Koufax and Drysdale and Fernando and Hershiser and Gibson thrilled capacity crowds, and Dodger baseball was the most exciting attraction in Los Angeles. I miss those glory days. I really do. Hopefully Manny can rekindle them. I’m starting to think Andruw Jones can’t.

See you at beautiful Dodger Stadium. But get your tickets now.

The 5-2 draft

So my partner and I have written the script. We’re very happy with it. Been over it several times. It’s ready to turn in.

But first –

The 5-2 draft.

We always make one final pass and do the following – add 5 great jokes, take out 2 pages.

You can always lift two pages. You may not think so but you can. Every big speech can be trimmed. Most joke runs have one or two that are not as good as the others. Lose ‘em. Comb through the dialogue. I bet you’ll find some unnecessary lines.

“Where you going?” “The market. I haven’t shopped all week.” “Will you get some orange juice?” “Sure.” “Bye.” “See ya.”

...can be replaced with “Off to the market. Will get you your O.J.”

Take a machete to your stage directions too. This is no time to be John Updike.

And now look for spots for five more killer jokes. Some of our most memorable lines (even though I can’t remember them now) have come at this eleventh hour. Maybe you've got a good joke that could be better. Maybe there are places for jokes you just sort of skipped over before.

And yes, you might be saying but then we're adding stuff in addition to losing pages. That's right. So maybe it should be the 5-2 1/3 draft.

The bottom line is: even your best script still can be improved. The 5-2 draft is something that just seemed to evolve as we gained more experience. Other teams might have a 1-7 draft or a 3-2 draft. You're in trouble if it's a 40-10.

And after you’ve done your 5-2 draft, turn the Goddamn thing in already and don’t obsess over it. You’ve done all you can do. Go out and get a pizza.

My favorite weekend

The Thursday Calendar section of the LA TIMES always has a feature called “My Favorite Weekend”. A celebrity is asked to describe his or her favorite southland weekend. It’s always bullshit, but now it seems they’re running out of real celebrities. At one time it was Sharon Stone. Now it's one of the models who holds briefcases on DEAL OR NO DEAL. Like anyone gives a crap that she likes to go to Catalina with friends on Sunday then have dinner at someone’s house and let his chef prepare the meal.

So I wrote up my favorite weekend. Or at least, a typical weekend for me. And God bless the TIMES, they ran it. Here it is again just in case you're looking for something to do today and tomorrow.

Friday I like to get an early start and hit the cockfights in Tijuana. I enjoy the action and it’s fun to see all the young couples out on their first dates.

From there I’ll go to the Hotel Del Coronado for a swim to wash any blood off.

There’s a Stuart Anderson’s Black Angus restaurant in Oceanside right off Interstate 5. They have a three-course dinner for two that includes two sides. And on Friday you can get their signature clam chowder, just like the cowboys used to make.

Saturday morning I power walk from Westwood to Malibu, get the paper, then power walk home. Along the way I may stop at artist friend’s house and pose for a bust.

For lunch I’ll meet some ex car thieves at Bob’s Big Boy in Toluca Lake. Their Big Boy hamburger is an LA classic, but I order their Super Big Boy hamburger because that one has meat in it.

After lunch and checking to see that one of my dining companions didn’t steal my XM radio, I amble over to the Twin Swallows Oriental Massage Parlor in nearby Inglewood for some pampering at negotiated rates.

Once that ends happily I head back home to work on my “project”. It’s been a ten year labor of love. I’m assembling a table I bought at Ikea in 1998.

For drinks at sunset, especially in the summer when the sky turns an awe inspiring crimson, I prefer the bar at the Shangri-La motel at the beach. Only wish it had a window so I could see outside.

If I went whale hunting the week before I’ll come home and grill it for dinner. I’ll invite some close friends I met on MySpace and we’ll eat, discuss the theater, sample fine wines, and toss water balloons at the useless neighborhood watch patrol car.

Early Sunday morning I reserve for calling back everyone who called me during the week. For some reason I usually wind up leaving messages on their voice mail. I’ve yet to reach my dentist.

For breakfast I’m cutting down on eggs so it’s back to the Shangri-La motel bar for a Ramos Gin Fizz. Those eggs can kill you.

Next I steal a horse and play polo at Will Rogers State Park. The guys love me because I usually bring the little orange juice boxes when we break for snacks.

I love star watching so for lunch I zip out to the Motion Picture Country Home and Hospital in Woodland Hills. Last week I saw the remaining cast members of MCHALE’S NAVY.

Sunday afternoon is culture time. You can’t be well informed if you don’t read. Currently I’m poring through Helen Reddy’s autobiography.

Sunday evening is sushi so that means Angel Stadium in Anaheim. There’s nothing like watching the Halos duel the Kansas City Royals and hearing that vendor come down the aisle yelling “Hey, sushi right here! Get yer yellowtail!”

I get home, use the neighbor’s Jacuzzi if he’s not home, watch the CELEBRITY FIT CLUB and then it’s time for bed. The great thing about LA is that it’s not just me – EVERYONE here has weekends like this.