Tuesday, October 18, 2011




I'm in a show on Wednesday night that's going to be lots of fun! 

SHOTGUN STORY WORTHY - 1 minute stories! -- Performers spin the "Story Worthy Wheel of Truth" and tell a 1-minute true story on the topic they land.

Stitcher Radio Presents: Shotgun Story Worthy- Live Podcast! 
Wednesday, October 19th - 8:00
at El Cid
4212 Sunset Blvd 
Silverlake, CA 90029

STORY WORTHY is Christine Blackburn and Hannes Phinney's fun podcast on which I was a guest in August. I spoke about my neighbor's barking dogs. You can listen to that podcast here >>>> LISTEN NOW <<<<. 

 I hope you can make it to the show!

RL

Monday, August 29, 2011

Check Out My Barking Dogs Story at The Story Worthy Podcast!

I had a great time doing the Story Worthy Podcast with Christine Blackburn and Hannes Phinney. Story Worthy is one of the Top Ten Comedy Podcasts on itunes! I told an update to my Barking Dog Log nightmare - because it continues and continues! You won't believe all that's gone on since the live Dog Log show! Check out my story and sign up for more Story Worthy podcasts today!
Me with Hannes Phinney and Christine Blackburn, hosts of Story Worthy

**CLICK HERE to listen to my story at The Story Worthy Podcast**
with Christine Balckburn and Hannes Phinney!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Procrast i nation

Started on Tumblr today as way of distracting myself from working on the second draft manuscript of my book, “Buried in Sophie’s Tomb, My Barking Dog Log to the West Hollywood Sheriff’s Dept.” I actually thought to myself, If I start a blog about writing the book, it’ll make me write the book. Yet, here I am writing about writing the book, or about not writing the book, and as yet still am not writing the book. 

I’m suffering from all the writing clichés: fear, doubt, self-loathing, disorganization. Mostly though, it’s time - just not making the time. How can I rationalize writing a book when there are bills to pay? Writing drafts doesn’t pay money. It only increases one’s fear about not earning money on yet another self-driven project.

I’ve even spent months thinking that I need to by a Dragon or some other speak-to-type software because it’s not my writing that’s the issue, but my typing. I spend way more time clicking the mouse back within sentences, deleting and re-typing than I do typing forward. It’s like walking Nelson (one of the dogs in the book). We never get to where I think we should go because he doesn’t just stop at every potential sniffing spot and at every mark his nose seeks out as possible snackage, but he has a white fetish as well. Anything white, he has to get to it and check it out. He’s like OJ simpson at a TGI Friday’s happy hour. Maybe I’ll use that line in the book. Likely not. People would find some way to whine about it.  And can I find a more hackneyed, out of date reference? I definitely need to learn more about current pop culture. Maybe I should hit Facebook for several hours or all day today. Might as well not even bother working on draft two today. Thanks, Tumblr.

RL

Thursday, July 28, 2011

The Girl Who'd Lost Her Violin

This is a transcript of the set/story I did on Monday night at Linda Bailey Walsh's FACEBOOK'ed Show at M Bar. It was a really fun show. All stories based on Facebook. Everyone was great! You should have been there!!

The first half was a rant. The second half is the story of the violin.

A brief history of Mankind: 
Cavemen - Grunting - Painting - Hieroglyphics - Talking - Language - Writing - Printing - Telegraph - Telephone - Radio - TV - Computers - Internet - AOL - Chat - Friendster - Myspace - Facebook..

Facebook - which brings us back to the beginning with character-count-limited, electronic grunting: "...uuurr LIKE!" "...uuurrr FRRRIIIEND.." Will you come to my show on Friday night? "uuuuurrr - MAAAAAYBEEEE..." We've evolved to sharing videos of cats playing patty-cake, which, undoubtedly, cavemen also enjoyed watching, albeit live only.

Facebook - so simple that even super-religious people can use it. It makes me miss the days when the internet was the devil's playground and not to be touched by wholesome hands. Now, the uber-religious feel comfortable and free to proselytize, evangelize, and save the world through commenting on my status updates. 

Facebook - the great equalizer. Everyone's layout is the same. When the web was invented and growing, the opportunity arose for individuality to blossom. Everyone could have their own site or blog. Myspace was filled with beautiful sparkles and squiggly ribbons! But we've ended up here:  all of us in the same generic, bland, milquetoast web-clothing, like a city of workers portrayed in a painting entitled "Salute to Stalin," our Facebook uniform here of white pants, white shirt, blue belt and blue cap, just a face to show ourselves, a profile pict we can swap out once in a while as we type out an occasional emoticon just to show people that we're still alive.

How many people here drive a car that is silver or gray-tone? .... --- SHEEP!! 

Facebook is our Egalitarian comfort zone. All things equal. So I'm an Anti-Egalitarian. Not that I don't believe that all people are created equal and deserve equal opportunity and justice - of course! But I also believe that a great many of us fuck up a great many things along the way - my very own life a fine example of a decades-long string of unfortunate decisions - making us eventually extremely unequal. This is why high school reunions are so damned uncomfortable! 

---------------
But Facebook can be used for good as well as life-wasting time suckage...
---------------

The Girl Who'd Lost Her Violin

One evening a few weeks ago, I was driving to a party - turning left off of Fairfax, onto Melrose Avenue. I saw the cars in front of me swerving and braking to avoid an object in the street. It was something pretty large. I thought it was a piece of a car fender or something. So, having many sins for which to amend, I pulled over, figuring that clearing the street would make me feel better as a human being, and that I could go to the party telling people that I had, presumably, saved countless lives on my way there.

It was at the corner of Genesee and Melrose in front of the American Apparel store. I stepped out of the car, the scene gently lit by the soft reflections of fluorescent light that bounced off of the plastic, scantily clad, post-pubescent, morally questionable mannequins in the window. What I found was not a car fender or "debris" of any kind. It was a violin case - a nice one, and relatively unharmed. Then, a few feet away, I saw the bow, and several yards from that the violin itself.



My mother was a violin teacher, a public school music teacher who taught private lessons in our house. She was a tough lady - a combination of Hillary Clinton and Pope Gregory IX. Above the door to the bedroom which my brother Chris and I shared, she'd hung a wrought iron sign which read "Homework is Freedom." She was a perfectionist and a persecutor. If I ever said, "Hey, Mom, guess what I got on my spelling test today?" She'd inevitably come back with, "100?", to which I'd have to sullenly reply, "No ..a 98." And then, ..here it comes, "Oh, Richard, you always manage to get one wrong." This is why I have both a fear of success and a deep hatred of even mildly successful people. 

At home when her private students were there, it was a lifetime of the inescapable cat-screams of beginners learning to play. Early-stage violin playing is like listening to Kathy Griffin talk about sex. My mother had one young Vietnamese student named Peter. She taught all three of that recent-immigrant-family's children. They were named Peter, Paul and Mary. Paul and Mary were amazing students. To relax before his lesson, Paul used to take apart our calculator and put it back together again. But Peter could never quite get it right. "No, Peter! No! Nooo!!" my Mom would yell. Yes, she had patience sometimes, but Peter had pushed her beyond it right from the beginning. "Nooooooo!!!"... I can still hear that screaming! Today, my neighbor, Irene, futilely yells at her Yorkie, Lauren, to stop barking, and it's, "LAUUUUREN, NOOOOOO!! NoooooOOO!!" just like my Mom with Peter. My shower head has been leaking for weeks, and I hear it again! - I wake up at night screaming, "Shower, NOOOOO! NoooOO, shower!!" My stomach started growling at a film screening the other day, and I knee-jerked, "Stomach! Noo!! Noooooooo, STOMACH!!"

I stood in the street and held this ownerless violin in my hands. Was this a sign from my mother? Whose violin could this be? And how does one lose a violin? You don't just wander aimlessly away from it like Steve Carell from "The Office." It doesn't just float away like Donald Trump's grasp on reality. It's not disposable like Jennifer Aniston's filmography. 

There was a name in the case, as well as "Violin 1." So this girl was a talented violinist on some level. I was right near Fairfax High. So that Monday I took the violin there, but the principal said they had no student by the name on the card, and the music teacher couldn't identify the violin or case. I turned to FB because earlier in the year I'd found a wallet while I was running, and I was able to return it to the owner via a FB search. My reward for that return was a giant chocolate-chip cookie. I sat on my sofa eating it with a big glass of milk, and it felt so good. I thought, "This must be what Kim Kardashian feels like.." It was nice. Inspired by myself, I typed the name into the FB search, but no results returned. It was a very unusual last name, so I searched just it instead. After pursuing many profiles, I messaged a woman in Santa Monica who might have been old enough to have a teenage daughter. She called me right away. She said that her daughter had been crying for days. I asked what her daughter had said about the violin? She told me that her daughter had told her that the violin was taken by a nanny named "Zenaida Fernandez-Gonzalez," and that she'd been trying to recover it on her own, but that was very stupid... Okay, she didn't actually say that. (That was for my #CaseyAnthony case people.) She said her daughter had been crying for days, and she didn't know why. 

The next day they appreciatively picked up the violin. The daughter seemed very, very bright. She reminded me of some of my mom's best students. She and her mother were adorable together - and so relieved. I'm a musician. A person gets very attached to his personal instrument. It's a relationship, and I could see that she was glad that her violin would not have to be replaced. They gave me a $25 Starbucks gift certificate. I wished I still had my giant cookie; the two would have gone so well together. 

This was a sign from my mom, but it wasn't to help me. - She was calling out to me to help the girl who'd lost her violin.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Facebook'ed - Monday night at M Bar, Hollywood!

Facebook'ed - Monday, July 25th at M Bar, Hollywood
Dear Friends,

I'll be doing a show on Monday night at The M Bar in Hollywood called FACEBOOK'ED with Linda Bailey Walsh and a great lineup of comic storytellers. We'll all be sharing shocking, terrifying, horrifying stories of those car-crash moments that we've all encountered when our favorite social network morphed into a complicated web of half-truths, inadvertent, drunken missives, and un-undoable photographic nightmares, blended with the reappearance of the now inescapable, undying ghosts of our past lives, our present fantasies, and our future hopes.

If you've ever been emailed, questioned, or virulently criticized after un-friending someone, then you must attend this show. If you haven't permitted your Chat option to go online for over two years because of one person, then you must attend this show. If the first person to comment on your status updates is inevitably someone from any of three generations of your family who thinks that humor is something that cancer surgeons remove, then you must must attend this show!

Ray Barnhart, Jeff Hopkins, Margee Magee, Melanie Reno, Traci Swartz and Christopher T. Wood, very, very funny storytellers all.

Show's at 8:00. No cover. $10 food min. Reservations preferred and appreciated: 323-856-0036. M Bar -  1253 Vine St. (at Fountain).

Friday, July 15, 2011

I'll be the Special Guest on The Story Worthy Podcast on Sunday! - Barking Dogs!

This Sunday afternoon, I'll be taping an episode of the most excellent Story Worthy Podcast with Christine Blackburn and Hannes Phinney. Christine and Hannes are accomplished actors and storytellers in their own right and have created a very funny, extremely pleasant and professional podcast that features one guest storyteller on one theme each week. The Story Worthy Podcast is in the Top 10 Comedy Podcasts at itunes!


I'll be talking about the spirit-crushing, desperate and dire living situation in which destiny has imprisoned me:  having a neighbor with a relentlessly barking, obnoxious Yorkshire Terrier. It's a story of Man vs. Beast, of Neighbor's Inhumanity to Neighbor. 


As many of you know, I did a live, one-person show about my neighbor, Irene, and her dog, Sophie, entitled "Buried in Sophie's Tomb - My Barking Dog Log to the West Hollywood Sheriff's Dept." (more info > here) which enjoyed an extended run at The Fake, played at The Actors Art Theater, and was an LA Weekly  Recommended Event at The Comedy Central Stage. ...But since that show has ended, and the giggling, wine-sipping, everything-in-life-is-wonderful theater audiences have gone their way, everything with my neighbor and her dog has only gotten worse. - WORSE! - Life just keeps pounding me with its misery hammer... 


And so the story continues at The Story Worthy Podcast. It will air at their site and on itunes very soon (not sure of the date), unless, of course, Christine and Hannes find it just too soul-destroying, too sad, too pathetic - too frighteningly close to the truth and pain of the human condition to air at this time to the masses. - I'll keep you informed!


RL

Friday, July 8, 2011

Copenhagen at The Attic Theater

A big thank you to everyone who was able to come see COPENHAGEN at The Attic Theater this year!! It was an incredible experience for me - fun, challenging, and intense. It was a blast to go into such heavy drama in the midst of these years of comedy. Playing Werner Heisenberg was like nothing I'd ever anticipated, after all, none of my acting experiences or even acting classes had ever cast me as anything like an early 20th century nobel prize winning atomic physicist. But I knew it was for me after I'd met director, Lew Hauser. His vision and mine were on track from the very beginning. We wanted Heisenberg to be powerful, dignified, respectful, and, above all, controlled. He was a man under constant surveillance by his own countrymen in the Gestapo, but even more so, under constant scrutiny from his colleagues around the world, and conflicted deeply within himself. In the end, he chose country and perhaps ambition over morality, and many say, in real life, he paid for it until the end of his days.





Joanna Churgin and Jack Winnick were wonderful to work with and amazing performers. Since the run ended, several people have asked if it's going to get produced again at a larger venue. I know I'd love to do it!

Here are some of the reviews we received:

From LA SPALSH MAGAZINE: 
"Lucas is masterful as the now powerful yet conflicted mastermind Heisenberg.."
- ..."Engaging, interesting and intense—what more could you ask for two hours of theatre?  I’ve never been to Copenhagen, but I’m glad I’ve seen Copenhagen. I’d like to see it again." 

From THE TOLUCA TIMES:
"Lucas brings likability to the competitive and arrogant Heisenberg.." 
- "...Thought provoking and intelligent, Copenhagen is biting entertainment." 

From LAist.com:
"While generally known for his comedic ventures, Lucas proves that he is capable of handling a dramatic stage work while rendering key moments full of animated intensity as Werner Heisenberg."

A few snippets from reviews on Goldstar Events (4.3/5 stars):
"Well done. I saw the original version on Broadway with Phillip Bosco and Blair Brown and this version was equally moving. Well acted by all involved. The Attic Theater production resonated even more from a large Broadway stage to a small theater. All the issues dominating the ethics and decisions in our world today are embedded in the story. It is a timeless testament to man's ability to justify scientific advancement at any cost."
-----------------
"Drama in its purest form with a fascinating account of history, stupendous performances and powerful direction! I strongly recommend seeing this before it closes!!"
------------------
"Brave and totally involving."
-----------------
"Terrific cast and wonderfully directed. Complex material handled with ease. Joanna Churgin, Richard Lucas and Jack Winnick are amazing. I saw the original Broadway version - This is stronger."

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Man Watches Episode of Project Runway, Still Attracted to Women

New York, NY
In an announcement that has stunned the television, fashion and scientific worlds alike, Carl L. Delaney of McKeesport, Pennsylvania is reported to have watched last night's episode of Bravo's Project Runway and claims that he still remains "attracted to women."

"I watched Project Runway last night, and today I still am not gay," Delaney said at a hastily called press conference on the common lawn in front of his apartment building. "I still am horny for women. Women are where it's at for me," he emphasized.

"This account is simply not to be believed," countered Robert Fullbright, Professor of Anthropology and Science and Technology Studies at Brown University, "The Delaney heterosexuality announcement would appear to reverse a sociological principle as immutable as gravity," adding, "He might as well have told us that he could stop time by doing JELL-O shots. 'Project' is firmly entrenched in the genetic code of modern living as the most powerful homociser on television," he explained.

Acclaimed Sociologist, Dr. Alexander Solkowski, author of the book Who Do you Think You Are? - You Are Who I Tell You You Are, agrees, "It presents one of mankind's most mind boggling conundrums: If you watch an episode of Project Runway and you are not gay, then you're still gay because you watched an episode of Project Runway."

Solkowski adds, "What Delaney is claiming - to have watched the show this Wednesday and not to have ended up gay - is beyond plausibility, frankly. 'Runway' bases itself on the premise of adulation of the fashion industry and builds with scenes of frantic designers shopping for fabric, contestants verbally bitch-slapping one another while sewing hems on garish "avant-garde" evening gowns based on pictures of flowers, and even shows female models in underwear with no sexual connotation whatsoever. If Delaney truthfully watched it last night," Solkowski says emphatically, "Then I conclude that he is gay."

The creators of Project Runway released the following statement: "We live in and are proud to be part of an open and tolerant society. If Mr. Delaney wants to say that he is straight even after watching our show, then we must take him at his word, and we are happy to welcome him as a viewer. We only hope that he is being completely honest with his loved ones, his friends, his family and himself."

Yet Delaney says that he discussed last evening's episode on a date with a woman later on and insists that the two shared stages of physical intimacy afterward. "We talked about the show, yes. I had just found Kenley's voice to be so irritating that I had to bring it up. That throaty screech of Kenley's constant defensive whining was stuck in my head like the sirens of the fire engines when my family's house burned down when I was 6. And her designs, let's face it, she's just stuck in the 50's. Time to get with something fresh. My date agreed with me, though she said that she did like Kenley's updated spin on hip hop that she'd designed for Leanne a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't seen that episode, so I was able to brush it off and make my move to second base."

There were, however, a few shaky moments. "I will admit that I was a little nervous at first, especially when Heidi Klum strutted on stage to threaten the designers," Delaney said, "I used to think she was really hot, but now she's kind of harsh, kind of mannish."

"This is exactly how the conversion always begins," explains Professor Fullbright, "Heterosexual men question their attraction to Heidi Klum. Then the winning and losing models from the previous week come out, but they are in unflattering black mini-dresses, have no make up on, and there is a noticeable absence of flesh on their bones. So within the first five minutes, the straight male viewer has been introduced to the drama of the episode, which may initially intrigue him, but has also slowly been waned from finding women attractive. Then Tim Gunn comes in. He is smart and dapper, friendly, yet stern and principled, all wrapped up in a fine looking, well dressed gentlemen with sympathy and a sense of humor. You can imagine having a beer with him, albeit a very expensive, imported one probably with a lemon wedge and a sprinkle of cinnamon which he wouldn't finish, but you can imagine it. And alcohol, even in imagined scenarios, leads to loosened inhibitions."

"Once a heterosexual male is through that door, there's no turning back. The presentation of the 'challenge' and the petty consternation between the contestants fire a male veiwer's internal 'Sports Response' in that his subconscious mind immediately choses a favorite, and then he'll endure nearly anything to see it through to the end - even the fanciful sketching, the discussions about 'Did someone steal my tool fabric?', the whining about other designers' whining, arguments over mirror space at the apartment or 'Who rethreaded my sewing machine?!!?'. It's extraordinary. But without fail, after 44 minutes, that male veiwer is gay. By the time he is agreeing with Michael Kors that Jerrel Scott's designs are too gaudily ornamented and that his hemlines are just not finished-looking enough for Bryant Park, the transformation is undoubtedly complete. Any sexual encounters with a female at that point would be for 'bearding' purposes only."



Yet Delaney continues to insist that he is not gay. "I like Leanne Marshall. I find her little buck tooth smile and sort of muppet faced innocence adorable, and her designs are first rate. When her eyes tear up from the stress, the exhaustion, the fear and the insatiable desire to be the best, I just want to hug her all night long. Plus, she really has a way with constructing pleats with a whole new, fresh perspective that could set the fashion world on fire. You girl, Leanne!"

Friday, October 3, 2008

Fannie Mae Pregnant. Freddie Mac Denies Relationship.


Washington, D.C.
No longer able to deny the conspicuous "baby bump" which has caused swirling speculation throughout the banking community, a visibly perturbed Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House of Representatives, announced this morning that Fannie Mae is indeed "expecting," and is due to give birth in early 2009.

"We were, of course, stunned when Fannie told us this news," Pelosi said, "We've spent so much time recently, late nights and weekends, at the office negotiating for her Bailout/Rescue Plan that we lost sight of what Fannie was doing with her personal time," adding, "We thought she was in her room working on her term paper on Zelda Fitzgerald."

"This is not what we would have wanted for her right now with her $800 billion of assets on the brink of evaporating," Press Secretary Dana Perino stated during this morning's daily briefing at the White House. "President Bush has spoken with her, and though he is a little disappointed in her personal behavior, he supports her decision and is moving forward."

There is tremendous speculation within beltway circles that Fannie Mae has fallen victim to parental neglect as the extended fighting and public bickering of the past two years between Pelosi and Bush has led them to distraction. "They shouldn't be airing their dirty laundry in public every day the way they do," said University of Maryland Clinical Psychologist, Belinda Swanson, "Clearly Fannie's behavior has been affected."

Commenting while on the campaign trail at Jefferson High School in Herndon Virginia, Vice Presidential candidate, Joe Biden, told the crowd, "President Bush taught Fannie Mae that 'A' was for abstinence. He should have also taught her what 'B' was for."

GOP presidential candidate, John McCain, responded quickly: "We don't know what was taught in those private moments to Fannie Mae or to Freddie Mac. It is their business and should be left at that along with their ethically questionable predatory lending practices. And by the way, Senator Biden never clarified what 'B' is for. And furthermore, Senator, what is 'C' for? And 'D'? And why would Senator Obama want teach those things to a financial institution in our public schools at ages as young as pre-school?"

Asked if Fannie Mae will still be able to provide liquidity to mortgage originators with the added responsibilities of motherhood, Perino said, "We're hoping that she has help with that at home."

Conspicuously unavailable for comment were representatives of government sponsored mortagage-backed securities seller, Freddie Mac. "Freddie Mac never touched that stuff," representatives said in a released statement. Mac, who recently pledged the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity at George Washington University though his reported SAT score of 840 falls well below admissions requirements, had apparently fled the comfort of his suburban Washington condo and was said to be in Southern California mastering tracks on his first hip hop album "Bailout Failout, Bitches", they said, "It's the Freddie Mac Yack Attack droppin' in time for Xmas stocking stuffa's, y'all."

Mae and Mac have been known to date off and on over the past several years. The two seemed happy when photographed together at Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson's surprise birthday party at Shakey's Pizza in Old Downtown last year, though at times the pair have also been seen at the Georgetown Starbucks arguing over whether they should order Caffé Vanilla Frappuccinos or Cinnamon Dulce.

"I saw them making out under the bleachers at our opening game," said Christina Newmont, a junior and fellow cheerleader with Mae at The Sidwell Friends School. "It was really so rude because we lost to Landon, and it was like they didn't even care. It was gross."

As a result of the recently passed Senate rescue bill, Fannie Mae was scheduled to appear before the House Financial Services Committee later this week, but it has been announced that all upcoming public appearances have been cancelled.

When asked if he, as chairman of that committee, bore any responsibility for oversight of Fannie Mae's behavior, Massachusetts Congressman Barney Frank stated, "No, and it's none of my business nor yours. Even though you, the taxpayers, are being told to write a check for $750,000,000,000 to buy up the bad mortgages and fragile assets of both Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, we ask at this time that you respect their privacy and let everyone move on with their private lives."

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Historic Bipartisan Effort Gives U.S. Economy Much Needed Crushing Blow


Washington, D.C.
The U.S. House of Representatives this week pulled together to complete days of unprecedented emergency sessions to achieve the once unattainable goal of absolutely no result whatsoever.

"Just when all of America needed us to come together and find common ground, we did it - and under tremendous pressure I might add - within the context of our own hatred for one another's basic political beliefs and associations," said chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, Barney Frank (D-MA). "That's the progress of the 21st Century that the voters sent us here to achieve."

As the world watched and Wall Street had is biggest single-day numerical drop in history putting the financial markets on the brink of a Depression-Era style disaster, the political animus of Washington hit its zenith over a bill which some representatives referred to as a "Rescue Plan." "Rescue, sure..." commented Rep. John Boehner (R-OH), "I haven't gotten this kind of press since we had Bill Clinton's nuts in a vice. This has been our greatest chance to let the country fall into ruin and blame the other side since we dreamed up the term "Stagfaltion" in the 70's."

"I am tremendously proud of the inaction that we've taken this week." said Rep. John Tierney (D-MA), "They call it a 'Bailout,' so I call it a 'Loan.' If they'd called it a 'Loan,' I would have stood up for the American people and denounced it as a 'Bailout for the Fat Cats.' I always add in 'Fat Cats.' You see, people just don't like fat cats, not even the actual overweight cats on YouTube."

"The important thing is that this week nothing got done," said House Republican Whip Roy Blunt (R-MO). "We clearly assured our own political existence through unadulterated intolerance of one another's core convictions. This latest economic strife was a great opportunity for both sides to ignore the other's recommendations at a time when the voting public could finally see us not listening to one another. We don't help them. They don't help us. We're all in this thing together."

"I didn't even read the bill," explained Rep. Jeff Flake (R-AZ), "I just waited to see what the Democrats wanted to do, then I stepped 'across the aisle' to despise it. That's what I was elected to do."

Polls show the voting public to be wholeheartedly satisfied with the work not being done. "Progress makes me suspicious. If politicians agree on something, then someone's not doing their homework," said California voter Constance Kindall.

Minnesotan, Joel Donnelly, says that he finds comfort in the clarity of total polarization, "How am I supposed to know who not to vote for if I don't know who to hate?"

Marking the unanimity that such failure to act has brought to Washington, House Democratic Leader, Nancy Pelosi, recommended the minting of a commemorative 2¢ "The Greater Depression" coin emblazoned with 2008 GOP presidential candidate John McCain's slogan: "We'll just have to agree to disagree." "We're hoping that the homeless of this newer, fresher depression era will pick up on it and sing "Buddy, Can You Spare Five Two-Pennies?" she stated, adding, "That would be so cute."

"Even though it will never exist, a coin like this can go a long way to help pretend that something actually happened here, something which led to nothing. I think we can all agree on that," Pelosi concluded.

Ushering in a vote that would kill a bill attempting to solve the emergent banking crisis, Pelosi stated that "For too long this government, for eight years, has followed a right wing ideology of anything goes, no supervision, no discipline, no regulation," motivating just the right kind of bitterness that could strangle the cooperative nature of a Peace Corps volunteer.

In an inspired example of unified rancor, Rep. Eric Cantor, (R-VA) took the political layup: "Right here is the reason I believe why this vote failed, and this is Speaker Pelosi's speech that, frankly, struck the tone of bi-partisan mutual destruction that, frankly, enabled me to vote against her on the bill and use her words to whine about it at a press conference afterwards. Then the Democrats complained about us some more, and so on and so forth. Everybody gets reelected. Everybody's happy."

Commenting on the dynamic lack of progress on the financial market disaster, Senator Chris Dodd, chairman of the Senate Banking Committee, added, "I suppose this economic crisis could end up righting itself on Wall St. on its own, but back in Washington, we'd still have Iraq. Thank goodness for that."

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Thanks for coming to "The Dog Log" !!



THANKS FOR COMING!!! to the 'Selected Readings' of "Buried in Sophie's Tomb: My Barking Dog Log to the West Hollywood Sheriff's Dept." at The Fake Gallery on Thursday!!

I had lots of fun! You were a great audience, and your questions during the Q&A were amazing and very funny (and uncomfortably personal).

Special thanks to Paul Kozlowski at The Fake Gallery! And thanks to Tim Coyne and Sheila Dolan for being brilliant and such complete professionals.

Tell your friends because the show may go up again real soon!!

Friday, July 25, 2008

Project Runway: With Remnants of Nonsense



Hopeful Project Runway contestant, Jerell Scott, stopped the rotation of the Earth and smashed all physical matter together to reverse the evolution of all life forms on Wednesday when he was shown on the program's second episode of Season Five commenting about what material his chosen model might bring back from uncut urban cloth house-of-worship, Mood. Always ready to shock their perpetually astounded contestants, the trim and dapper Tim Gunn announced that "For the first time in history" the models would be shopping for and choosing the materials for the upcoming project.

Needless to say the designers, now rendered as helpless as airline pilots with no pre-flight drinks, bemoaned the decision in a momentous storm of self-doubt and negative projection as if Jesus asking, "How am I supposed to make wine from this stuff?"

Naturally the last thing a presumably human model could be capable of doing would be shopping, right? How could the producers come up with such a nefarious limitation? How could professional models possibly know anything about shopping or fashion or materials or clothing (which is going to be designed especially for them on their instruction)? This would surely be as impossible as putting men on the moon and them playing golf really well.

Then in his crisis moment, designer Jerell Scott shook the world when he offered this frightfully insightful quip: "My biggest fear is that she's going to come back with remnants of nonsense."

That's when time stood still and all polarities reversed. It was when reality became fantasy and fantasy became reality, and my own deeply personal moment of crisis began. "Remnants of nonsense??", I asked to the dead air of my lightless living space. "What am I doing here?... Remnants of nonsense?... What is this show but remnants of nonsense? Any of these shows? And most of anything on Bravo or almost all of TV for that matter?"

Almost any current television producer in town (barring those from "Rock of Love") at any given moment could be saying of his/her editors, "My biggest fear is that they are going to come back with remnants of nonsense!" But they will! They will! Have you seen Big Brother? ...Tori and Dean/Home Sweet Hollywood? ...Adam Sandberg...

The question is: do we continue the embrace?

I don't know what nonsense is any more because I've given creed to it lo these years, and I have indeed forced it into making sense in my lonely world. But Scott, tonight, is calling me out. He has invited me to an awakening. He is speaking to me through the TV and challenging me. Remnants of nonsense?... Will I continue to be part of this cycle? Nonsense within nonsense? Do I need these remnants of nonsense in my life? Or at least this many? Should I be putting time into nonsense and or its remnants at all?

How much of my life am I giving away to them? And for Pete's sake already, how am I supposed to make wine out of this stuff? I think it's water here.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Kelly Ripa Officially Reclassified as Exoskeleton Arthropod

Highlighting a significant leap in the timeline of evolution, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt announced today that TV host, actress and former piece-of-ass, Kelly Ripa has been officially reclassified as an Exoskeleton Arthropod. "Frankly, we're amazed at not just her ability to metamorphose from one species to another, but at the incredible speed with which she was able to do it. Kafka would be proud."


Above, Ripa impersonates a horizontal stripe.

Ripa, insiders say, became disenchanted with her work-a-day Homo Sapien status shortly after having her third child. "She'd reached the top of the human food chain, you know? Wife, mother, TV star, commercial spokesperson with the wealth of kings and more popularity than a video of a kitten playing a banjo. Why not shake things up a bit?"

And shake things up she did. Shifting to a diet primarily consisting of teasing Regis Philbin's dusty dice every day for breakfast, Ripa showed the uncanny ability to reduce her body fat percentage to .004%, malnourishing her skin to the point of translucency and then finally ultimate defeat. "Everyone knew she hated having the baby weight," says Ripa's Personal Assistant's former Personal Assistant, "But her big obsession became having skin at all. 'Just layer upon layer of it,' she'd say, 'All the upkeep and the spray tanning. Who needs it?'"

This change in species hasn't affected her status as spokesperson with Ryka Footwear, even though her feet no longer need exterior protection. "She doesn't mind at all wearing the shoes during the photo shoots for the website, and we're very appreciative," said a beaming Linda Forsythe, artistic director for Ryka. "And she makes the shoes look very sturdy under those wonderfully frail tibia and tarsus bones." Rumors have circulated that Ripa may soon be designing a line of fitness clothing for Ryka, as well. "We cannot confirm or deny that at this time," says Forsythe, "But if a line of negative-sized fitness wear does comes out, I can assure you that Ryka's will be the first and the tiniest."


Kelly Ripa holds the contents of her latest meal.

Electrolux Kitchen Appliances have no plans to bury their newly-minted, prized skeleton either. "Why should we? Our agreement is to never show food and Ms. Ripa in the same frame," explains Milton Frostberger, Electrolux Director of Merchandising, "And certainly we'd never ask her to touch anything edible. It's not a difficult workaround. Besides, our ovens are so prohibitively expensive that most people who purchase them haven't cooked for themselves for 20 years, and they're not about to start any time soon."

Not everyone is so excited about Ripa's transformation. Some "Live with Regis and Kelly" audience members were less than impressed. "If I was her, I'd have made myself into a sloth," said Carl Wallace of East Brunswick. "She's a fake with all that perky bullshit!" added Shiela Mars, an admitted Kathy Lee Gifford fanatic, "I have roaches on my shower floor that are happier than her."

Still, hubby-hunk Mark Consuelos sees no downside to his wife's boney countenance. "I couldn't be more proud of Kelly. I call her look 'insectious,' and we laugh... And we're very careful that the word 'chubby' only refers to one thing in our household, if you know what I mean," adding confidently, "I think that proves that I'm heterosexual, don't you?"


Two undernourished legs can add up to the size of one healthy one, so what's the diff?


In her favorite parlor trick, Ripa disappears as a spine amongst books she hasn't read.

What does the future hold for society's newest segmented invertebrate? "Well, if she needs to molt, they'd need to be sure to time it just right between projects," explains celebrity stylist Rex Masculio, "But she's simply an unstoppable force of popularity no matter what the form. Who knows? You wants 'firsts,' America? I wouldn't be surprised if Barack Obama considers her for V.P. - a gorgeous African-American and a gorgeous Exoskeleton Arthropod. That ticket would be amazing."

Richard Lucas, reporting for the hell of it.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The Dark Knight.... Al Franken anybody?


Yes - I'm special, and here's why: "The Dark Knight" is opening tomorrow, and I saw it already. That's right! I'm a lot more special than any of you ever imagined.

How special am I? I was at a "special screening" of "The Dark Knight" two weeks ago. Yes, that makes me very special. It was only the second screening of the film anywhere in the world, and I was there. Why was I there? Pretty lame, in truth.... The Screen Actors Guild randomly selected me as a nominating member for the SAG Awards committee. I think there are actually hundreds of people in the "committee" which never seems to meet or even "lunch." None of my committee colleagues ever calls. We don't bowl together or play softball. We don't sit at a giant semi-circular table in large, cushy leather chairs and discuss anything. Nothing. In fact, considering the paltry number of auditions that I get per year (I call it A.D.D. - "Audition Deficit Disorder"), my SAG membership itself thus far has amounted to little more than a very, very expensive magazine subscription.

Certainly now, however, my acting career is all working as I get to see a handful of movies this season for free. What more could I possibly want?

But I digress - after all this is about the film "The Dark Knight," not Richard Lucas - The Dark Knight.

Many of you good friends will soon see the movie. Heath Ledger, you will see, put up a great performance as The Joker. But I couldn't help but be distracted by the exaggerated voice he uses. It sounds like a spot-on impersonation of Al Franken. Exact same deep, deep resonance but high nasally projection. And the timing, too. Basically it's an Al Franken in real bad need of a glass of water - a brilliant choice. It's a great voice. But sadly, I'll never get to find out if this is what Ledger was doing, nor how he came up with that choice.


After the screening, there was a Q&A. Christopher Nolan was there, Gary Oldman, Aaron Eckhart and Maggie Gyllenhaal as well. My friend, Reuben, who accompanied me there (see, if you were nicer to me, it might have been you) asked a great question about the special effects, and yet, all I could do during the Q&A was try to figure out a way that I could ask any member of the panel if Heath Ledger was doing an Al Franken voice without sounding like a wise-ass. (As a side note, I haven't figured out a way to do very much without sounding like a wise-ass.) Unfortunately because of this tormented self-consciousness, I never quite formulated the question reasonably in my mind, nor did I hear most of the Q's and few of the A's, so I am as in-the-dark now as I was before.

When I brought Al Franken's voice up later, Reuben thought I was crazy. Some friend... Silently, so as not to cause use a big ruckus about it, I assured myself: "Reuben obviously doesn't know who Al Franken is, and he's got a tin ear for inflection - that's for damn sure." Surely now he will say that he does know Franken, but I assure you my friends, he doesn't because if he did, he would have been hearing just what I was hearing. It's his sanity or mine.

My question is - is anyone with me on the voice thing? All you brilliant actors out there? Radio listeners / Fans of Franken? Minnesotans? Classic SNL fans?

Just one bit of agreement in this world and I'd be forever satisfied.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Thank You!!


Thank You!!!!!

Thank you!!! --- To everyone who came out for the Comedy Central Stage show!

It was a fantastic night, and tons of fun for me because the audience was so awesome.

For those who couldn't make it, I did a 50 minute set of stories --- sort of a stories/stand-up hybrid format that I love.

There will be audio and video soon with possible DVD and/or CD's for sale.

Hopefully, we'll do another live night soon, too!

Sincerely,
Richard

p.s. -- We did it without an Evite. It can be done!!

Friday, August 31, 2007

Words Cannot Describe It

"Words can't describe how I'm feeling." Really? Well if you're not Pablo Picasso, you'd better find some words or we'll never know what the hell is going on. How did we get to the point where when the largest events happen, great or tragic, we react with such appreciative amazement when someone says, "Words can't describe what I saw"? No words at all for it, eh? Wow, that must have been something else... We shouldn't appreciate that, we should be infuriated.

This empty, canned, meaningless phrase has suddenly become our paramount superlative. When seemingly nothing is left, people default to "can't describe it." Is it that we can't or that we won't? It's either pathetic lack of vocabulary, i.e. complete idiocy, or sheer laziness. "Why should I think of what to say? You figure it out."

People even use it in romantic terms. "Words cannot express what I'm feeling." But words just expressed that you're a verbally impotent, slack moron.

I'm going to apply for a job at Hallmark, and on my first day on the job I'm going to blow everyone's minds by creating the quintessential, universal, unstoppable predator of greeting cards, and then I'll leave them to ponder my greatness. Upon opening my card, it will read: "Words cannot describe what I'm feeling." Done. I'm out.

Mine will be the greatest selling greeting card of all time because the people who are shopping for greeting cards already have no ability to think/say/speak/write for themselves or are too lazy to even give it a shot, and they are so enamored with the "beyond words" poetic illusion which rationalizes their ineptitude that they'll scoop up my card to perpetuate the circle-of-ignorance that is strangling our country.

The typical receiver of such hogwash will close the card, hold it up against his/her chest as a tear falls away from under eye and think to themselves, "I have no real idea what that means. But at least he/she spent $2 and licked an envelope."

(Yes, I anticipate receiving no birthday cards this year now.)

With an anniversary of 9/11 coming up, I know once again I'm going to be watching important, reverent documentaries full of videotaped on-the-street interviews with people, eyewitnesses to history, who will be giving the ol' "words can't describe it" to the historic record. I would rather hear someone say, "Thing go boom," or, "I'll get back to you on that" than, "Words couldn't describe it."

Many of you know that I was a high school English teacher for several years. For some of those years I taught English as a Second Language. I realize now that after teaching some of the initial basics, "yes, no, stop, go, please, thank you, my name is..." I should have taught "Words can't describe it." It's called assimilation.

Beyond that, I spent four years of evenings teaching the Verbal half of SAT prep classes in the South Bay. Why was I wasting my time when the key to brilliance and depth would soon become "Word cannot describe what I'm thinking"?

I've hit the wall. Words cannot describe my frustration.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

They Call Me Steely McBeam


If I told you that my nickname in college was "Steely McBeam," then you'd assume that I had a pretty interesting and fulfilling dating life. If I told you that my SAG professional screen name was "Steely McBeam," you'd think that I was doing fairly well in my porn career, and you'd do a Google image search as soon as you got to a computer in private.

Though I do now plan to slyly incorporate the name Steely McBeam into my most intimate conversations with the opposite sex, I will not be able to claim sole ownership of it. The Pittsburgh Steelers have introduced a new mascot, a yellow skinned, five o'clock shadowed, hard hat and flannel shirt wearing steel worker recently named by a contest winner as Steely McBeam.

The idea of a mascot has been the subject of controversy amongst Steelers fans for their entire 75 year history, as divisive there as the concept of "Reagan Democrats." Before McBeam, the Steelers had set themselves apart as a team of stark simplicity, a simple two color uniform scheme with the iconic U.S. Steel Corp. logo placed on only one side of the helmets, the other side staying fully black. Who needs all the decorations? (See the Buffalo Bills who add another stripe or stroke somewhere on the uni every year to no avail.) Helmets are for hitting the other guy in the head. There were never cheerleaders, and the previous attempt at mascotting the club in the 80's was run out of town on a barge down the Ohio. Rumor has it it's calling bingo games at a retirement home outside Louisville.

This year, to highlight the organization's 75th anniversary, they brought the mascot idea back. Kids may respond to it, as they do Barney and Weird Al Yankovich, but we adult fans are very uncomfortable with the change. Steeler football has always been about football, no playful distractions beyond Bill Cowher's domineering chinbone or spit shower of fury. Steeler Nation is the largest nationwide fan base in the NFL, often enough to make away games feel like home games. Kids love the Steelers because they dominate. They win. They play hard and look tough. They are among the few things in pop culture that have not gone cartoony or given into the infantilization of the modern era in which everything has to bring us back "to our childhoods" as if American adults are afraid to ever feel more than arm's length away from the security blankets of our toddler years or the musical mobile above our cribs.

The defenders say, "Kids like it." But I say kids need to learn to admire things that are purely for grown ups on a grown up level. They go to church and they have to sit there and shut up. No giant, stuffed smiling Jesus needed to appease them. They learn respect. They have to go to school and shut up and learn. Teachers don't put on hand puppets and squeak like Pee Wee Herman to hold their attention. (The ones that do should be shot.) They don't need to have professional football angled towards them like a Kool Aid commercial. The game is awesome enough, spectacle enough. The players are amazing enough. Look at them, those mighty Steelers, and learn to emulate their relentless, dominating, enemy crushing ways.

My fear is that kids will be asking for a Steel McBeam doll for Christmas when they should be asking for helmets and cleats. When I was a boy, every year I begged my parents to buy me a Pittsburgh Steelers uniform for Christmas. I used to play one-on-one football with a kid down the street named Tim. Much to my horror one year on the day after Christmas, he showed up to play wearing an entire Miami Dolphins uniform, the home whites in kids size, head to toe, helmet and all. He couldn't have been more pleased with himself. His father was the neighborhood dentist. All of us kids' crooked teeth had paid for that uni. And there I was, in my many layers of sweatshirts, thermal underwear and dungarees, unsafe with no head gear at all but for my red and blue hand-me-down stocking cap. But I won that day, cleverly taking advantage of the way his slightly large helmet limited his peripheral vision. I won with speed and cunning and flat out muscle. I won the Steelers way, pretty boy. And Timmy's uniform got filthy, and he got in trouble.

The following Christmas, I got a set of Steelers pajamas, gold pants and a white pullover with a Steelers helmet on the chest. Believe me, I seriously considered wearing it a top my layers of sweatshirts and pants the next day. But fate helped me make the better decision not to so as to avoid the lifetime of derision that surely would have followed that choice.

Forget the mascot, Steely McBeam, and his jaundiced skin and bibbed overalls. Why is he wearing ski pants? And Steelers fans, please stop referring to him as a coal miner. That would make no sense whatsoever. Plus, he has no lamp on his helmet and still has a glimmer of hope in his eyes as if life has not yet completely destroyed him, so he can't be a coal miner (or a lonely writer of blogs).

Well, it could be worse. We could have what the Baltimore Ravens have: > See Ravens Pride.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Cashcall, Gary Coleman and the Tiny Print

Look, the last thing I want to do is give Gary Coleman a hard time. He's been handed enough of that on his own with the kidneys and the hormones, the money with the parents thing and the not so great job placement stint as a security officer on the edge. I was a big fan as a child. I emulated him in every way on Diff'rent Strokes. I even tested out my own catch phrase for a while: "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" My Mom hated it. Turns out that precociousness is much less precious when you're not pulling in $80,000 per episode. I voted for him for Governor of California. I cried when his blind date went bad at the end of Star Dates. I even pulled for him to win The Surreal Life Fame Game until I realized that it was Emmanuel Lewis and that his heart wasn't really into winning, he was a compromiser, and his attempted manipulations were obvious and weak. Then the SR Fame Game for me became all about Andrea Lowell for diff'rent strokes altogether.

But all kidneys aside, Gary Coleman is best known for being the victim of birth circumstance with the apparent parental squandering of his fortune. He'd earned over $7 million while starring on the show and made over $17 million from all his work during that period (1978-1986). Yet somehow, some way, every penny of that got recirculated into society, and Gary never got to enjoy it for the years beyond when he was enjoying it at least a little bit.

So his story became one of the former child star seeking out his rebound, still loved and adored in his adult years, but not paid back for the joy that he gives. He's taken seemingly every job that has come along: music videos, cameos in TV movies and low rent TV commercials. In walks Cashcall.

Actually, it was the other way around. Gary walked into the Cashcall offices. As the story goes, when he went to their offices to close the loan he had taken out with them, he was introduced to the company's boss who encouraged Gary to pay off his loan by appearing in Cashcall ads.

What he should have said was, "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Cashcall?" But instead he took the deal, and now in the spots he proudly proclaims, "Cashcall helped me. They can help you too... Pay your bills on time and everyone will love you." Alas, it's all about being loved, especially by Cashcall.

One of the best things about DVR technology is that you can pause the TV screen at any time. I started doing this during shows like the FBI Files and Forensic Files. Whenever they show someone's suicide note, hand written or signed confession on screen with just some parts highlighted, I pause it and read the entire thing for myself. It's great for the History channel, too, civil war letters, Stalinist propoganda articles, secret Nazi documents and such. Then I started doing it with commercials, things like car leases that seem too good to be true. You pause it, and you can read how high the initial down payments are supposed to be. (Plymouth has gone one step ahead of me. They have an extremely suspicious lease offer of $99/month on their PT Cruiser. Not that I'd ever lease one because I'm not 20 years old, a woman, and a big fan of Trading Spaces reruns. But I paused it, and it says, "See our website for details." Hmmm. That should be against the law - a sales two-stepper.)

And so to the DVR pause on the Coleman Cashcall ads. I'd never seen a screen so filled with such tiny print. Nothing good ever needs to written on such nanoscale.

Here's what Cashcall and Coleman are offering via tiny text: "The APR for a typical loan of $2,600 is 99.25% with 42 monthly payments of $216.55..." Those payments add up $9,095.10 to pay back a loan of $2,600. Over three and a half years, that's paying back three and a half times the amount you borrowed. 99.25%!!!!! These rates are even brazenly published right on their website. > See for yourself.

I have damned many a bank that offers credit cards at a mere 22.9% APR. Now I recognize their magnanimous generosity and good will.

I know the story. Anyone who ends up at the Cashcall window is not just simply trying to pay off their one, single, small debt. They are people who've been overwhelmed with debt, cannot get assistance from any reputable banking institution anymore, and are just trying to get the worst of the creditors (like the IRS) off of their backs. So they borrow from Bealzebob to pay Paul. Still have that twinge of sympathy for the adorable Gary Coleman? It's sympathy for the devil's pudgy cheeked surrogate.

If you've ever been majorly in debt, as I have, then you know how difficult it is. You start to juggle the creditors with a Worst-First List. You look for the quick fix wherever you can get it. The difficult but appropriate thing to do is to make a long term plan and face the facts that a lot will have to be sacrificed until you can climb all the way out. A lot. I suffered through four years of the worst M-F job (M-F not necessarily meaning Monday thru Friday) of my life to get myself out debt a few years back. Many of you know, I had to resist quitting several times a day, every single day. It was a harrowing, dark period of my life which scarred me with bitterness and lack of pity. But I got out of debt. The hardest thing about it is that to make the large payments on a realistic payoff plan, you have to pre-calculate, plan it out and then pay over almost every penny that you earn all the way until you are through, which means no spending money ever, and certainly no savings or safety.

Then I got back to zero and an all new struggle against the great costs of living began. But it's better than signing any paper that has a 99.25% APR. Those people and their spokespersons are not out there to help you. In fact, the reality is, no one is - especially not people on TV. I just wish you hadn't done it, Gary.

p.s. Don't call me for help, people. I have no money.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Joseph Finder Discovers his Genius

"The funniest smart guy in Hollywood... Really, really funny: I'm a huge fan." - Joseph Finder, New York Times best selling author
---------------------
Many of you know that my favorite book last year was, hands down, Joseph Finder's "Company Man." I've passed it around amongst some friends all of whom loved it and left me with a paperback as torn and tattered as the last 18 months of the Bush presidency. His books are fiction, action thrillers. Recently they've been set in the corporate world. His protagonists always have a great sense of humor, wry and real, about themselves and the people around them. Feeling so moved, I'd penned similar words of admiration on my MySpace page and, apparently, Mr. Finder spends as much time Googling himself as the rest of us do, and he found it, and lo and behold, one day I had a Friend Request from the respected Mr. Joseph Finder himself.

Upon receipt, I found myself skeptical (though you know of my deep distrust of skeptics). Is Joseph Finder really on MySpace, or is this a "fan page?" Is this some sort of hidden porn spam trying to branch out their final frontier - the fiction reading, quasi-intelligentsia set? I took a chance and wrote him saying that, if it is really him, I think he's brilliant, and I've enjoyed his books immensely, and if it is not him, then you really have a lot of time on your hands as a fan.

In response to that, Mr. Finder checked out my comedy website and wrote me a very wonderful email about my stand-up work. He is now, in his words, "a fan." And by extension, you, by being here, are in the same club with that Yale/Harvard educated, world traveled best-selling author. Doesn't that make you feel better about yourself?

Plus, he's allowing me to use some of his kind words for my publicity. I offered him the same in return, but how much can I help him?: "Finder's novels are real good." - Richard Lucas, petulant nobody. I don't think so. He is a gentleman and a scholar. And on top of that, he said that he's send me an autographed hard copy of "Company Man" to replace my worn out paperback.

I received the book in just a few days, as you see in the above photo. It goes right up on the shelf of treasured signed books which now numbers two, the other being Adam West's "Back to the Batcave." Adam West's book is tainted though because he hit on my date while he signed it. That's what you get for buying an Adam West book at a comic book store and then standing in line for an autograph - even he resents you as a pasty faced dork. My date was a graphic artist in package design. West, boldly (in my judgement impolitely) ignoring me, asked her what she did for a living, and she giddily replied, "Oh me? I'm a package designer..." Without skipping a beat, an actor's breath already drawn for retort, West came back in an instant through his warm, smooth smile saying, "Well, you're quite a package yourself." Quite a package yourself. Brilliant... and humiliating. Sexy... and emasculating.

And On top of it, his book wasn't very good. Who really cares about the back story of the Batman TV show? Well, ok it's interesting. Did you know that Adam West thought that the hood of the Batman costume was making his hair thin out? True. Fascinating... But believe me, you'd care less if he hit on your date. I do. Did. Do.

More to the point. Joseph Finder is great. He knows brilliance when he hears it - as do you, my good friends. If it's been a while, go to my website and check out the audio clips. Lots of fun there. And for Joseph Finder, get his books. Read 'em. I just finished "Killer Instinct," and it's a blast.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Kool-Aid Drinkers Unite!


This week the maker of Kool-Aid announced that it would stop advertising its product to children during children's television programming, effectively banishing itself to the Island of Elba to while away with the likes of Marlboro, Jack Daniel's and Girls Gone Wild dvd's. They say that this is to encourage better nutrition. A curious, tacit admission of guilt in aiding the current child obesity and diabetes crisis for a product that has been on the market for over 80 years, long before the childhood obesity was cool. The product comes unsweetened. It's just a powdered soft drink concentrate. It's the consumer that adds the sugar. Sugar substitutes and have been around since 1879, and the ones that don't cause cancer since 1979. Is it the children who are doing themselves harm?

Kool-Aid is not going to make itself disappear. What I'm not sure about is where Kool-Aid will advertise now? With the state of television today, what programming is not aimed at kids? Maybe The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer?: "Major funding for this program has been provided by The Arthur Vining Davis Foundations, Kool-Aid, and viewers like you." Maybe there could be some smart product placement in Showtime's "Weeds." That adult market would certainly loves a nice sip of Kool-Aid along with a good snack. This era's prolonged presidential election cycle offers a good opportunity, too because kids under 18 can't even vote. They certainly won't be watching all the debates. And Kool-Aid would be a perfect political sponsor since "Drinking the Kool-Aid" has become the political cliché of the millennium. People who voted for Bill Clinton's re-election in the face of all the scandals were called "Clinton Kool-Aid Drinkers" because they were willing to sacrifice themselves (their votes) for the greater cause. Today, Bush-ies are considered "Kool-Aid Drinkers" because they will believe anything that the the administration coughs out about the War on Terror. Actually, anyone who believes in anything strongly is considered a "Kool-Aid Drinker" by the opposition.

"Kool-Aid drinkers" a bad thing? But it's sweet, fun and refreshing? It's all Jim Jones's fault. Now, cause of him, it's synonymous with poison. You gonna advertise that to kids? If Jones had just left well enough alone, kept his Peoples Temple cult in the Bay Area and not moved them to Guyana and talked them into group suicide by drinking cyanide laced Koo-Aid with his pscychological manipulation, his mesmerizing speeches and his slick sunglasses, everything would be fine. He not only ruined Kool-Aid, but now no one trusts a preacher who wears gradient sunglasses at the pulpit anymore either. (I'll address the loss of gradient sunglasses in an upcoming blog.)

Who here believes that Kool-Aid is going to stop advertising to kids? But more importantly, why should they? Kool-Aid is a powdered mix that has to be purchased, then mixed in a 2 quart pitcher with one or two cups of sugar, water added and chilled. Is that what kids are doing with their money and their time? Kids are getting fatter, younger, but it's not from stirring Kool-Aid. We had it as kids. We loved it. It gave us instant heartburn and brain punch of adrenaline, it took too long to chill, and we loved it. I was a grape man. I was also in charge of sugar, and I was known to be quite generous. It could even be eaten straight from the packet. On the swim team, kids would bring several packs and eat the powder as an "energy boost" right before a race as if any 8 year old needs that - a precursor of steroid abuse, I suppose, but few of us ended up obese or in rehab. Of course, we were all swimming, which is exercise, which is the basic difference between kids of then and kids of now.

In general Kool-Aid has about 21 grams of sugar per serving. A lot, yes, but no more than most soft drinks, chocolate milk, even orange juice. We didn't have nearly the soft drink options that kids have today. We just had a bit more body motion involvement in our daily lives. Everything in moderation, except good parenting.

As if we didn't know that Kool-Aid wasn't "good for us." Look at the original Kool-Aid man. He's not exactly slim. He's so fat that he couldn't get through a normal doorway, he had to smash through the walls, menacing unsuspecting children with his elephant walk, his sweaty bodice and the tragi-clown permanent smile, all the while yelling, "Oh yeah!!" One wonders if some day Dateline's Chris Hanson won't step out from the pantry saying, "I'd like you to take a seat, oc-koolio-aid69. May I ask you what you're doing here, sir?" I don't trust people who smile all the time. Just once I want to see the Kool-Aid man sitting on a park bench, elbow on his knee, chin resting on a hand, pondering life's limitations.
The new image is a bit slimmed down with slightly longer, thinner legs. The only signs of excess might be the triple chin. And thank goodness he's finally wearing clothes/pants to cover up what now must be supposed as genitalia (though the Hawaiian shirt is pushing the good times a little hard for me). Are we really looking to the Kool-Aid cartoon guy as a role model for body image? The walking, talking, pouring pitcher on TV for a few seconds every Saturday morning? If he has that much influence, then the Jim Jones of the future is going to have a much easier time getting a lot more than 900 people to join his cult.

What you may not know is that Kool-Aid has other uses as well. That may be their new angle. According to fans, you can dye clothes with it, dye yard for knitting, dye your hair - especially blondes. You can tint wooden frames, remove rust and chlorine stains, even remove hard water stains and gunk by running it through your dishwasher. Bad for kids? Unless you love having hard water stains and plain looking wooden frames around your pictures it is.

Below: dwb, a rabid Kool-Aid fan, a "Kool-Aid Kool-Aid Drinker" if you will, offers Kool-Aid keyboard art that looks like an old fashioned telephone. Also, a passionate girl with something to say that no one understands:

I don't know why I opened your Kool-Aid, and I don't know how I possibly couldn't have known the flava unless I was blind, olfactory-challenged and my taste buds had been fried from years of licking the spoon.