PMSimon.com

Time's at a premium. Time's going to be at a premium for a while, and we're resigning ourselves to the fact that we're going to be spending a lot of time at appointments and going to and from them every weekday for a while.

So we will. And while we do it, I'm still determined to keep at this thing, despite the likelihood that I'll be severely distracted. Apologies if the quality varies or if I don't have time to develop my thoughts the way I'd like- already this week, I've wanted to write something about an article about "Simpsons" guest stars that ran in the Times the other day, but I'm finding it hard to carve out the time. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. Hey, I don't get paid for this.

In the meantime, I reserve the right to post fragmented thoughts, like this one: after a day of listening to the new satellite version of CBC Radio 3, I gotta say, maybe there's more decent Canadian alt-rock than I thought. Not too bad. Or maybe it's just hearing new, unfamiliar music- from various genres, including Canadian hip-hop (!)- juxtaposed with the more familiar like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club that makes it interesting (more interesting than the Iceberg channel next to it- Bachman-Turner Overdrive may contribute to the CanCon requirement, but that doesn't make it different). There's a sample online- it's a stream, but it's not the same as what's on Sirius- here.

Enough for now.

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I'm sitting in the very back of the Panera Bread near the hospital, working (free WiFi!) and killing time before I have to go back and provide my Friendly Prompt Shuttle Service, and the guy next to me is taking full advantage of this place. He's a senior, and his total purchase seems to consst of a sngle cup of coffee, but that doesn't mean he isn't living large and eating well. No, he set his coffee down on the little table/chair combo next to me, and a cup of complimentary water with complimentary lemon, and his book, then went back to the counter and returned with a handful of the complimentary sample slices of olive bread slathered with mounds- quarts- of complimentary cream cheese. He could have gone skiing on the mounds of cream cheese piled on those bread morsels. He's sitting here contentedly munching on the free vittles and reading his book, perched by the window looking out on the Bank of America and the Jack in the Box and the stop-and-go traffic on PCH and Crenshaw. Life's good for him.

And that's not a bad thing. You get older, you reach a certain age, you want some freebies, so why not? The staff doesn't seem to care. And it beats sitting home in the same old room with the same old walls and the same old atmosphere. Here, the price of a cup of coffee gets you a comfortable chair, a floor-to-ceiling view, tasteful beige-and-brown decor, classical music playing softly in the background. And I remember my dad at the Borders in Boca, sitting in a comfortable chair, contentedly perusing another World War II book, and, well, yeah, someday, when I don't have work to worry about and I'm just looking to while away the days, I hope there's a comfortable chair and a bunch of free food samples with my name on 'em.

It's one goal, I guess.

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USC was destroying UCLA, and it wasn't all that interesting to watch, so I changed the channel, and KTLA was showing the Hollywood Christmas Parade. This was the one that used to be called the Santa Claus Lane Parade, and when I was a kid WPIX in New York would show it and it was a festival of who's-that and I-thought-he-was-dead and I'm-firing-my-agent-on-Monday-morning.

It's nice to see some things never change.

Look- it's the KTLA news crew on a float! Mark Kriski and Sam Rubin and Carlos Amezcua! Ha ha! And here comes the Toms River South High School Marching Band! And another band! And someone called Lil Romeo and ... er... another band, and now it's Antonio Sabato Jr.! And another band, and the Star 98.7 DJs on a float, and another band, and... er... some guy from "Out of Practice" (the commentators said something like "it's a show with the lovely Stockard Channing and, of course, Henry Winkler, and from the show, here's..." When you're introduced as famous by proximity to Stockard Channing, that's not strong, although he could always say "hey, how many sitcoms have YOU starred in?" And then more bands, then Partick Warburton and Eartha Kitt on the same float, then David Hasselhoff and family in a car, and... hey, didn't Antonio Sabato Jr. already go through once? And then there was Fritz Coleman, and I gave up.

I'd have just sent the same three floats around the block repeatedly to see what people would do. Hasselhoff, Fritz Coleman, the KTLA guys, then Hasselhoff again, then Fritz, then KTLA... I'd want to know how many times a crowd can see Fritz Coleman before they get violent.

My guess: third time around and the mob sets Hollywood and Highland on fire. Admit it, you'd watch that.

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We watched the "Bewitched" DVD last night. Not the TV show, the movie. (I disclaim any responsibility for picking that) Watching Nicole Kidman and Will Ferrell mug and twitch their way through the awful script, a few things struck me:

1. Hollywood can't stop making movies and TV shows about itself. This has to stop. Hollywood thinks the rest of society is just fascinated with its inner workings. Not true. Not only can't anyone relate to the lifestyles of Hollywood, it's gotten to the point that people aren't even all that envious. Seems like a shallow, stupid life. But that point's been made.

2. Hate to say it, but Will Ferrell's not that funny. He does in this one what he's been doing in every single Will Ferrell movie, the pulling-of-faces, the aimless-ad lib-that's-supposed-to-be-cute scene with the babe, everything he did in "Anchorman" and "Old School" and every other movie he's done, and if it was amusing before, it's not anymore. Be gone with you.

3. There should be a Memory Protection Act: don't allow anything to be remade unless the writers, producers, director, and cast like and understand the original. "Bewitched" was a stupid comedy, but it was OUR stupid comedy. Nora Ephron (who from the looks of things must have never seen the original) didn't know what to do with the guileless, innocent humor of a bygone era, so she dragged it into her cynical world by making it not a remake, but a movie ABOUT a remake that turns out to remake the premise and retain it at the same time. How clever! How stupid! How unnecessary! Simple setup: Darrin marries Samantha, finds out she's a witch, wacky stuff happens, the end. Anything further isn't necessary. Ephron wanted to make her OWN concept- fine, but call it something else. Leave the "reimagining" to, say, the Batman movies. (And that's another story for another time)

4. No way in hell will I go see "Memoirs of a Geisha." (That's one of the approximately 6,327 trailers on the DVD) But then again, I though no way in hell I'd see "Bewitched." But I didn't pick it.

Fran also rented "Phantom of the Opera" and "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." She's on her own there.

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Memo to the people in charge of doctors' waiting rooms: in December, the "soft adult contemporary" radio stations you play on your PA system go all-Christmas music.

That sucks. It's bad enough to sit there listening to Kenny G and Celine Dion. When all you get are downbeat renditions of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "O Christmas Tree," it's unfreakinbearable. Stop it. Or go out and buy the Vince Guaraldi Charlie Brown soundtrack. Thanks.

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OK, not much time tonight other than to mention this: at dinner, we turned the kitchen TV on and put on "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on ABC, and it was in Spanish.

The set does not have SAP. The satellite receiver was set to English. The receiver in the other room had the show in English. This one was in Spanish. I have no idea why. I went to the other room again to make sure I wasn't losing my mind. Still in English there. Went back to the kitchen, it was suddenly in English.

Something tells me I should take some time off.

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Dear Bill Plaschke: Judging by this morning's column, you and Grady Little need to get a room.

Yes, the King of the One Sentence Paragraph is happy with Little's hiring as Dodger manager. He's very happy indeed. Oh, what am I saying? He's behaving like a lovestruck schoolgirl, or Howard Stern's sycophantic callers ("Hey now, Grady, how's it goin', what's goin' on?"). (I might start calling him "Bill (Double A) Plaschke," but I don't know if anyone would get the reference) He's so excited, he even included a few two-sentence paragraphs. Some samples:

Ned Colletti can pump his right fist any time now.

In resurrecting Grady Little as the new Dodger manager, he hit a late-inning, backdoor slider out of the park.

Why, he's Tony LaRussa, Casey Stengel, Miller Huggins, John McGraw, and Jim Leyland all rolled into one and wrapped in Huckleberry Hound!

The Red Sox fans who tell you Little was a terrible manager — and there are plenty of them — will also tell you that Bill Buckner was a terrible baseball player.

Yeah, that same Buckner who had 2,715 hits.

I don't know what Red Sox fans Plaschke speaks with. I see him in the Dodger Stadium press box all Summer, and there aren't too many Red Sox fans lurking there, so he must talk to them in the off-season. Maybe he runs into Bill Simmons at Sushi Nozawa now and again. But the Red Sox fans I know don't hate Buckner for being a bad player. They don't even really hate him. They just hate what happened in game six of the 1986 Series. Can you blame them?

At least Red Sox fans hang around for the whole game.

Little took a diverse group and turned them into winners who, months after he was fired, became nationally known as "the Idiots." Then, of course, they finally won the World Series.

Little was 188-136 in his two seasons, cementing the attitude that carried them to that peak.

So in Plaschke's book, Little managed the Red Sox to the World Championship AFTER being fired.

Dude. We know you like the guy, but really, now. Give him credit for 188 wins, but 2004 was Tito's year.

Seriously, I'll look at the coming season with an open mind, and I'm sure Grady Little is a great guy and deserves all the chances in the world to make this work. But this is not like hiring Joe Torre, or- cough- Mike Scoscia. This is more on the Charlie Manuel level. I hope it works, if only to make the ballpark more fun next season, but I think I'll stay away from the manager's office when Plaschke comes around. Some things should be done in private.

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Yesterday's item took a shot at the L.A. Times' Bill Plaschke for getting all warm and gooey over the Dodgers' new manager Grady Little. And today, the opposite, from Fox Sports' Kevin Hench:

Merry Christmas, Dodgers fans. That's not a lump of coal in your stocking, it's your new manager, Grady Little. Trust me, you'll wish you got the lump of coal.

Oh, Red Sox fans are laughing, all right- they remember that Little's problems were deeper than not knowing when to pull Pedro:

I totally agree that Grady should not be judged solely on what happened on the night of October 16, 2003. He should be judged also on all the mindless moves he made over the course of two seasons in Boston that contributed a. to a team with the 2-3 finishers in the Cy Young balloting missing the playoffs in 2002 and b. to a team with a solid starting staff and a record-setting lineup finishing six games behind the Yankees in 2003.

And he goes on to remember specifics, like pinch-running for Papi or Manny and taking said bats out of the lineup when needed two innings later, or failing to anticipate the opposing manager's counter-moves to his strategies. He makes a persuasive argument that Little's, um, little. And he notes that Little's fans have used the Pedro incident to obliterate any memory of all the other mistakes he made- now, he's a good man unfairly maligned for one mistake instead of a guy who couldn't make the right move if you wrote it out for him.

The sports world is full of coaches who get a lot of slack despite boneheadedness that boggles the mind. Take last night's Sixers-Bucks game. At the very end, the Sixers are down two with 0.9 seconds left and having to go for a 3. Someone has to inbound it and get it to the guy you want to take that shot. Now, with the Sixers, that's obviously Allen Iverson, with Korver as a second option. 0.9 seconds to go, remember, enough time to inbounds and immediately shoot. WHo do you want to get the ball? A.I. Where do you need him? Beyond the line, on the court. Where would you absolutely NOT want him? Making the inbounds pass, because he can't be the shooter.

Guess who Maurice Cheeks had inbounds the ball?

And then Milwaukee coach Terry Stotts took one look and waved Andrew Bogut over to guard the inbounds pass. Seven foot Andrew Bogut. Massive Andrew Bogut.

What did Cheeks do?

He left Iverson to try to inbounds the ball. And you don't even have to think to guess what happened next.

Anyone talk much about Terry Stotts? Nah. But Mo Cheeks is widely considered a fine coach, a respected coach, because he's a nice guy and the players like him. And Grady Little's a nice guy and the players like HIM, too.

Feel free to bet on whether the Sixers will win a championship under Cheeks, or whether the Dodgers are ticketed for the Series under Little.

Let's be clear on something here: with the right players, Arlo the Wonder Llama could coach a team to a championship. And with a lousy roster, Bear Bryant could lose every game on the schedule. But all else being equal, a lot of coaches and managers seem to have trouble with the Xs and Os but manage to get a pass from the press and public.

Funny, though. I remember a few years back when the Phillies had one of those guys. He was popular with the players and a nice guy, but he was a nonentity for game management and untimately couldn't win with some decent talent. They fired him. Then he went somewhere else, replacing a guy a lot like him, and won it all despite the same questionable game moves. Now, if Grady Little goes to a bar in New England, they'd throw beer at him. If Terry Francona goes into a bar in New England, he probably never has to buy a drink. It CAN happen.

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This was in my mailbox today:

A couple of things:

1. My name is not Manuel Conceicao.

2. I do not live in Kurrajong Heights, Australia.

Other than that, no problem.

The street name and number, redacted here, are not the same, either, but close. But that's all that's even close to the same. Everything else- name, town, postal/zip code, COUNTRY- is different. And thre's air mail postage on it. Yet the USPS, for some reason, decided that this letter belonged in my mailbox.

I'm not sure what to do, return it to the post office (where it'll likely just show up in my box again) or what. I guess I'll drop it off and see what happens. But it's good to know that the U.S. Postal Service is on the job.

And my REAL mail's probably in Botswana by now.

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While perusing the Chanukah section (basically, three small shelves) at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, we found "beyond." Meet Harvey Magilla:

Clap, or cough, or make loud noises, and Harvey "dances" to "Hava Nagila" for you. I expect that they also sell a little Devout Christian doll that boogies to "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" when you make a noise. Whatever, it's the perfect gift for the anti-Semitic members of your family.

They also sell the Jackie the Jokeman Joke Master Jr. jokeboxes, in case you really want to alienate your loved ones.

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OK, I'm officially sans mind.

I loaded this onto my Treo cell phone.

Cell phone Sudoku. I am pathetic.

At least I admit it.

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A billion dollars.

The Giants and Jets are jointly going to build a stadium in the Meadowlands and it's going to cost a billion dollars.

The teams are going to pay the billion, but the taxpayers are going to pay about a quarter billion to build a train link and other infrastructure improvements. And the acting Governor says that this is a fabulous deal for the taxpayers.

Uh huh.

I grew up about 15 miles or so from that spot. Here's the number of NFL games I've been able to buy tickets to see there in my lifetime: Zero. NFL games are overpriced, and Giants and Jets tickets are impossible to get unless you pay scalpers ridiculous prices.

Great deal. Fabulous deal. The taxpayers are getting a bargain. And they'll reap the benefit by being able to see zero games in person. That quarter-million in taxes (which will grow over time, of course) will buy a palace for other people to use, just like most other stadium deals. If you have an HDTV, your tax money will be buying a pretty studio for those sharp live pictures.

And it's not like other jurisdictions are clamoring for the teams: Manhattan never could get its act together for the Jets stadium. Los Angeles is, of course, being touted as one of those "other jurisdictions" ripe for the NFL to move a franchise to... or, more accurately, to use as a bargaining chip to sucker San Diego and New Orleans and Minnesota into ponying up for new stadiums at taxpayer expense. Good thing people here have no intention of spending a penny of public funds on an NFL stadium, and would vote out any politician who tried to pull that off. But I keep waiting for other cities to stop flinging your and my money at sports franchises that DON'T NEED THE MONEY, and I keep waiting, and keep waiting, and meanwhile places like San Antonio and Portland and Las Vegas are so desperate to be one of the Big Boys that they play along and flirt and provide teams like the Saints and Marlins with the fodder they need to extract public funds for their own palaces back home.

You know, I thought sure that after the NHL job action/strike/lockout, after cities found their hockey palaces dark for a whole season, after the fans finally got screwed to an extreme, that the public madness over sports spending would finally end. But the idiots are back in the seats, the politicians are still using sports to placate the masses, and cities and states are still spending fortunes on buildings most people will never be able to afford to use. Sometimes I wonder why I'm still a sports fan.

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No time today, and I have a headache.

Go here and crank the volume to 11. Complaints will be ignored.

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Oh, yeah, you missed me on WNAX Yankton, SD today, chatting with Jake Weber about "Brokeback Mountain," Tookie, Christmas, and the AirTran Wendy's deal. You missed it because I forgot to tell you about it, and because they don't stream. But you can hear the station throughout the upper Midwest at 570 AM. (And for folks who are here because of the WNAX segment, hello and also register (for free) at AllAccess.com and check out Talk Topics in the News-Talk-Sports section, which is where the stuff we talked about is covered and then some)

I'll remember next time.

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Took the car in for maintenance and to fix a few minor problems.

A thousand bucks.

Granted, that includes both rear brakes, the timing belt replacement, an air conditioner problem, and several other fixes, some important, some just nagging. And my mechanic's good- always does a great job, doesn't fake problems to make more money. I expected it to be this expensive, because I'd put off some of it for a long time.

But a thousand bucks. Yow.

I'd be nostalgic for the days when I didn't own or need a car. I lived in subirban Philadelphia back then, a block away from the train station. With a monthly pass, I could hop the train to go anywhere. And where that train didn't go, SEPTA buses and the old P&W trolley did. Ah, the good old days.

And then I remember that I had to be on the last train back or I'd be stuck- that meant no later than the midnight train from Center City, or 1 am from Upper Darby on the trolley. And even buying food was a chore- I had to get one of those old-people folding carts to lug stuff home from the Acme. And I longed for a car, any car, a car to bring me freedom, to let me go anywhere I wanted, to be able to go places and do things without worrying about monthly passes and last trains out and long walks from the station.

Now, I have that car, and I'm still complaining. Some people are never happy. Thousand dollar car repair bills will do that to you.

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We got our tip shopping done today. This involves running around buying gift cards for the folks you're supposed to tip- the mailman, the newspaper delivery people, the pool guy, and many more. Tips are important because I already spend an arm and a leg on services, and therefore must spend more.

Uh, wait.

But you have to do it. It's the law, sort of. And since we don't celebrate Christmas, we don't hit the stores to buy gifts like, it appears, the rest of the free world. It appears so because tonight, a Thursday evening, the line at the Best Buy stretched for a mile or so, and they didn't even have any Xbox 360s for sale. In fact, I didn't see anyone buying anything all that huge- a DVD or two here, a video game there, that's about it. Nobody was pushing a plasma TV through the checkstands, nobody was wheeling a cart with a computer on it in the queue. Same at Borders- people were buying just your basic one or two books. In fact, we appeared to be the only ones on each long line who were buying gift cards. Where are all the gifts?

(And nobody was out there buying US gifts. We tip to show appreciation for good service; shouldn't the service people be tipping US to show THEIR appreciation for OUR business? Just asking.)

I don't know about anyone else, but I think the gift card is a great invention, even if it's a bastardization of the gift certificate concept. When you cashed in a gift certificate, you could, say, buy something worth $10. with a $50. gift certificate and pocket the excess $40. With a gift card, you still have $40. on the card, but no cash. But if you're GIVING the card, that's not your problem. And you have to fill out gift certificates and they're a pain in the ass, but the cards are easy- they come pretty much gift wrapped. You run out when the pool guy shows up, you hand it to him, you're done.

What happens if you don't tip? Do the papers end up in the sprinkler? (They do anyway) Does the pool get a green film on top? (Been there) Do you start getting mail intended for someone in Australia? (See December 9)

Well, of COURSE I'm too much of a wuss to find out. And that's why we spent the evening on the Neverending Lines waiting to hand our money over to be converted into plastic that will be handed to a bunch of people who we don't really know and who don't even remember who we are.

Hey, it's tradition.

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Oh, come on, I had to be up at 2:55 this morning to cover Howard "I am the last of a dying breed" Stern saying "I am the last of a dying breed" over and over and over except when he said "you are the last of a dying breed" or "he's the last of a dying breed," to the point where my brain actually started to seep through my eardrums and sinuses, and then I had to work a long day as the only person on duty at All Access (OK, Kelly Daniel wrote a few country format stories, too, but otherwise I was the whole staff), and then I had to run out and handle several errands and I just got back and it's 9:40 pm and you expect me to write something coherent?

I can't. I'm the last of a dying breed, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Howard, who I thought fancied himself as FIRST of his breed- he invented shock jockery, humor, and breathing, you know- sure as hell doesn't.

Time for sleep. G'night.

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Here's an exclusive peek at the deleted "alternate ending" of "Brokeback Mountain." In this version, Heath Ledger (right) takes drastic action when Jake Gyllenhall (left), preparing to take the next train home, tells him they must never see each other again.

(You can buy the above image here, although $895. for a cel that wasn't even actually used for a cartoon is a little, um, steep)

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The contempt with which TV executives view their customers is pretty breathtaking. The latest example of this happened this weekend on Fox' NFL coverage. If you watched Saturday's Tampa Bay-New England game, you saw it: the "Fox Box" score line near the top of the screen had some additions, namely a string of Christmas lights and, worse, snow falling above the line, with a plow coming through to clear it. The area above the score was shaded to emphasize the falling "snow," thus obstructing the view of anything up there. Oh, and the usual annoying woosh was replaced with jingle bells every time the score changed, or the down changed, or a flag was thrown. It was bad in standard definition, and worse, a lot worse, in high def- distracting, annoying, and entirely unnecessary. The person responsible for it cannot be a football fan.

By Sunday, the snow and the plow were gone, but the lights remained. Why the entire top of the screen needs to be filled with a distracting line is another story, but it's as if the graphics- the score, the "wacky" snow and plow, the incessant promos for other shows in the lower left corner- are way more important to the network than the game or the viewers.

But this will only stop if people stop watching. As it is, David Hill and Ed Goren probably think, well, you won't go anywhere- if you're a fan, you'll watch anyway. True, but the extra graphics won't get anyone else to watch and will only piss off real fans. Why do it?

I don't know. And maybe that's why I'm not a TV executive.

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No time tonight. Also aggravated, pissed off, not in a proper frame of mind to write. You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when quoting Kenny Rogers makes you look like an ass.

Ah, yes, that would be now.

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What was it that I was saying about TV executives' contempt for viewers?

On-screen graphics seem to be more important to them than the actual game. Check out KTLA Los Angeles' graphics for Clippers coverage. Up till now, the station used an obtrusive top score box that took up too much room. Now, for tonight's game at New Jersey, they've added a scores-n-stats bar at the bottom, and a huge gray half-oval with the station's logo in the lower right. Check it out:

And:

And this, where there's practically no room left for the game:

The game is being reduced to a small window between the graphics. Is there any reason to have that huge logo with the strange swoop thing extending well into the picture? Is there any reason to keep the out-of-town scores scrolling for the entire game? I want to watch THIS game. I just can't see the whole court.

And I can imagine the folks at Tribune, KTLA's owner, hearing my complaint and laughing. After all, where am I gonna go? The YES Network feed from New Jersey being carried on the NBA League Pass is blacked out here. If I want to see this game, I have nowhere else to go.

I do, of course, have other places to go. There's nothing requiring me to watch the game. But I'd like to. I wish they'd let me do it without all the ornamentation.

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Here's how not to keep a customer:

I need a piece of sporting equipment, so I stopped by the Torrance location of the Sports Chalet sporting goods chain. I found what I was looking for but I had some questions, so I looked for a salesperson. And looked. And looked. No luck, so I waited and inspected the item and, soon enough, the manager came over, but he didn't ask me if I needed help. He looked at the item's price card and started writing down the SKU number. If he wasn't going to help me, I figured, I might as well just ask him, so I did: "Are there some of these in stock?" "That's what I'm trying to find out," he muttered, then started to walk away. I tried to ask another question, but all I got out was "how large is the..." and he was gone.

OK, probably didn't hear me. So I waited. And waited. And he wasn't coming back, so I looked around and saw that he was up at the front counter. I walked up to him, and he was finishing a phone call. He hung up and looked at me. "So, are there any in stock?," I asked.

He stared at me for a few seconds, then turned to talk to a salesperson about something else. He didn't respond to me. I waited. And then, after about 30 seconds, a customer walked through the front door and went right up to the same manager and asked if the store had any boxing gloves for children. "Yes, we do," the manager said, "and I'll show you where they are." And he walked off with the new customer.

He never acknowledged my question. He never even nodded. He looked right through me.

Another salesperson saw my astonishment and cheerily asked if she could help me. Here's what I said to her:

"No, you can't. But you can tell Robert, your manager, that he just lost a sale. I asked a question, and not only did he not get me the answer, but he looked right through me and then started helping a new customer."

She looked puzzled. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, sorry. You've lost a customer. I've spent a lot of money here, but never again, and you can tell Robert why." And I walked out.

The store was busy, but not THAT busy- there were no lines. And there was no excuse for Robert to ignore me. I was polite and smiling, I waited patiently for him to finish his call, yet he just didn't seem to want my business. But there's another sporting goods chain across Hawthorne Boulevard, and there are other equipment sellers in the area. And there's always the online option.

Robert, the manager of the Sports Chalet in Torrance, CA, didn't want my business. He doesn't deserve it. If you want to buy sporting goods in Southern California, try another retailer.

(I've written to the company's CEO to let him know what transpired. I'll let you know if I ever hear back)

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Why write when you can get someone else to do it? That's the best thing about using links- you can outsource the writing and still keep the audience.

Click here for an op-ed in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel by my radio compadre Brant Hansen, who does mornings on the Contemporary Christian station in West Palm Beach and who manages to namecheck Krokus (pride of Switzerland!) and allude to Kool and the Gang and castration and eating your kids, all in one witty package that makes the salient point that those objecting to using the word "Christmas" to refer to the upcoming holiday have no problem saying the names of the days of the week, which are derived from sources that might surprise you. I mean, he goes from Cronus to Krokus! Okay, he could have included Focus (only hit "Hocus Pocus"), or "Parts: The Clonus Horror," but still.

Me? I don't care what you say, Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Holidays, whatever. As long as I get the day off, I'm happy.

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Done.

Oh, I'll be working a little over the next week, but the year's main work is done. For the first and only time this year, I get to sleep in a little, relax a little. I'll post stuff here, but I reserve the right to coast a little (like I don't already).

Aaaugh. The Sixers just wasted 53 from A.I. and lost another one with another half-assed Mo Cheeks-designed last-second play (inbounds to Webber, who spun, lifted an awkward right-hand push, clanked it off the rim, then managed to knock it out of bounds- Hawks win). That's a sign. Time to shut this thing down, go in the other room, and start the weekend. Shouldn't you be doing the same?

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Too lazy to turn on the computer to write anything. Cell phone'll have to do.

Merry Christmas. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have some "Curb Your Enthusiasm"s on the DVR. 'Tis the season.

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I just had to sneak out of the other room for a few minutes.

Fran rented "Monster-in-Law."

I know there's a basketball game somewhere. Shaq, Kobe, rescue me from the grip of Hanoi Jane and J-Lo. please.

How long before Fran notices I never came back from taking that "phone call"?

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How's this "week practically off" thing going so far?

Tried to sleep in. Forget it. A nightmare had me waking up quite literally screaming. (Drove off the side of a bridge- don't ask)

Fran thinks maybe that without a full slate of work to occupy my mind, my anxieties are taking over. She may be right. On the other hand, I'd hate to think that I can only function when being worked to death.

One positive thing: there's only one bridge around here. And it has big iron barriers so you'd be hard-pressed to drive off it. So I got that going for me.

Oh, and I accidentally kicked Ella the World's Most Famous Cat clear down the hall while stumbling out of the bathroom at 3 am. Sorry, kid.

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On the way to the checkout at the Target in Torrance today, I saw a bin of public domain DVDs- marked down from a dollar to fifty cents each. It was a pile of the usual suspects- the old westerns and those dodgy-origin episodes of "The Beverly Hillbillies," and then there was this:

Burns and Allen! Four episodes! For 50 cents! Half a buck is no gamble at all to drop on one of these- the prints are shaky, and the end credits are cropped off, but what the hell, for fifty cents it's worth it.

The show, of course, was the original TV fourth-wall breaker, George addressing the audience to make sardonic commentary about the proceedings. In the early days, transferring from radio, they hadn't really gotten to the level of absurdity that they reached later in the run, in the episodes you'd remember from incessant rain-delay reruns back in the 60s and 70s. These episodes were from the very first season, 1950-51, and it shows- the video is from ancient kinescopes with a dark shadow on the right of the screen, the shows were done live on a cramped stage in a New York theater...

...and, critically, there wasn't much fourth-wall-breaking yet- George did a monologue to introduce the show...

...and then they launched into sitcom mode, albeit featuring Gracie's weirdness. Bea Benaderet was there from the beginning as neighbor Blanche Morton, but they were at the very beginning of a succession of Harry Mortons, starting here with Hal March, later to achieve game-show-hosting infamy...

March was followed by John Brown for a year, then the far more familiar, way more crotchety Fred Clark and, most familiarly, Larry Keating, later to serve as Mr. Ed's neighbor. And it was also before Harry Von Zell's better-known run as the on-camera announcer/foil to George; here, Bill Goodwin is insulting Burns while squiring a babe around the set, a regular gag on the show. Goodwin later served as the narrator for the TV version of "Gerald McBoing Boing" (Marvin Miller of "The Millionaire" narrated the original theatrical short) and died young- at 48, from a heart attack.

The episodes themselves are fitfully amusing. It's standard stuff with plots- Gracie plans a wedding, Gracie's afraid that George will see a dent in the car- that rapidly became cliches, including one where they host a teenage girl while her parents are away, and it's what you remember from Lucy and "The Honeymooners" and every other sitcom of the era, with George and Gracie baffled by the ways of the teenagers:

But George and Gracie take a look at the wild, savage dancing and decide, well, what the hell:

I'd prefer some episodes from the truly weird, funny later years (pre-Ronnie, preferably), and I'd like to see better prints and the closing "say goodnight, Gracie" schtick and credits, but, geez, you know, fifty cents. Not bad.

Oh, and regarding yesrerday's nightmare, I drove across the Vincent Thomas Bridge today and didn't drive off it into the harbor. I feel much better about things now.

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A company called Eastern Research called us at 8:00 tonight for a survey. I told them to shove their survey- we're unlisted for a reason. Besides, the telemarketer- sorry, phone surveyor- wasn't terribly nice and seemed to be having a tough time communicating. Then I looked them up and saw that they specialize in phone research targeting Hispanic households.

My phone exchange is by a wide margin predominantly white and Asian. They missed the Latino community by, oh, about 10 miles and at least a couple of zip codes and phone exchanges.

If you want to target the Hispanic community, you might want to consider that little gaffe. I believe "D'oh!" is the same in English and Spanish.

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Message to the two yentas who saw me trip and rip up my knee- if you do not intend to actually stop and help, asking "are you OK?" in the most insincere manner possible is not appreciated, especially when the answer is "no" and there's blood gushing from my leg. And just trotting away when I clearly could use some help is evidence that you really would have come off better had you not even bothered to ask.

You're welcome.

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Aimlessly wandering on Usenet, I happened upon a thread in alt.obituaries (don't ask) that had an interesting premise- someone asked not about shows that "jumped the shark" but rather were shows you loved years ago that, when you see them now, just plain suck. It's not a bad off-day topic, actually- I can think of a few that fit the bill:

All in the Family: A real departure, and everyone watched it back in the day. Now, it's obvious, shrill, and really, deeply unfunny. As is...

The Jeffersons: Ditto, although less so than AITF. But I can't put "Good Times," the ultimate unfunny sitcom, on this list, because I hated it then and it's no better now. Same for "One Day at a Time," "Maude," and most other sitcoms of the era. (Although from the same time, "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" is pretty much as amusing as I remember it, and the original "Bob Newhart Show" is, too)

M*A*S*H: I did watch it in the first few years before bailing when every episode seemed to lead to a "very special" plot twist that made some war-is-not-healthy-for-children-and-other-living-things "statement." And today, even the first few seasons, the Henry Blake years, are grating and annoying.

Happy Days: Kinda liked the first couple of seasons. Now, it's amusing in a car-wreck sense. Never really funny the way the producers intended, but now it's really embarrassing. And what kind of society was it that accepted Henry Winkler as a "tough guy" who just happened to befriend the nerdiest guys in school? Did anyone notice the 1970's hair on Potsie and Ralph and especially Chachi when it was supposed to be the late 50's and early 60's? (Chachi, for one, would have been beaten beyond recognition had he showed up for school in 1961 looking like that) And who thought it was a good idea to let Anson Williams sing? Ever? Forget the shark, this show went horribly wrong from the start. (Okay, you can let the first couple of seasons pass if you must, but there is no excuse for Leather Tuscadero, even if she IS currently a fellow radio geek)

Welcome Back, Kotter: All the rage when I was in high school. EVERYONE watched it. Now, it seems really... off. How shall I say it? The Sweathogs are... er... not very tough. Maybe they were the "tough guys" at the "Fame" high school.

The Munsters: Loved it in 1966. Now, it's not even very enjoyable on a camp basis, except maybe the one where Herman plays baseball, or Herman plays basketball, or Paul Lynde plays a doctor. "The Addams Family," in contrast, is even better than I remembered it- creepy and weird, in a GOOD way.

I'm sure I could come up with more, but I'm off this week, remember?