A Guy Named Joe

Welcome to my nephew, Joe, who's joined the blogging world.

PS...Not for the faint of heart!

I LOVE THIS MAN!!!!!

A CARD FROM THE PAST!

Was gifted with a wonderful present yesterday! My bud, John McCann, has also been cleaning out his office and he came across the index card you see above. He brought it to our bi-yearly lunch at Barones. Also in attendance were Warner chums Jean MacCurdy and Tom Ruegger.

The above card was posted on a board in my old Warners office and represented the major plot point in our Daffy Duck Primetime Pilot.

In case I haven't mentioned it, as we imagined it, the Daffy Duck show was similar to the old Jack Benny program. Daffy had a weekly variety show with real guests. Porky was his sidekick. Yosemite Sam was the screaming producer. Anyway, the show also had a lot of backstage story...similar to the Larry Sanders show. We also had a part for Jonathan Harris. He would be Simian Vandertub, the network weanie. We had fake sponsors. One of my favorites was 'Dr. Underhill's Pure Sprucine Heave Ointment.'

Anyway...

John McCann, Doug Langdale and I were sitting in my office and trying to figure out what the hook of the pilot episode was going to be. We soon agreed that Daffy would perform a magic trick on his show and make the leader of Bellawania disappear. But, for real. The magic trick goes wrong and Bellawanian President goes poof. We all liked this idea very much.

Our assistant (that term isn't exactly right...he was more brilliant jack-of-all-trades who knew a lot more than us) wasn't exactly sure about the idea. He wanted to know where the President of Ballwania went. We kept saying that he really disappeared. Our assistant kept wanting to know where. He had to go somewhere. Where did he go? We said we didn't know where he went. He just disappeared. Our assistant said we couldn't do that. If he disappeared, he had to go somewhere. Where did he go? We kept saying we didn't know and it didn't matter. He said we had to know and it did matter because someone can't just disappear, they have to go somewhere.

We happily argued the point with him for about an hour. (It was fun.)

When the WB read the script they had one question:

Where did the president of Bellawania go?

Our assistant went on to be the head of ABC's miniseries development and is now a powerful agent who makes more money than us.

We sure showed him!

Prayers For Haiti

Can't imagine what it must be like.

Here's a link to CRS (Catholic Relief Services) which is known 'round the world for getting in there, getting dirty, and helping out regardless of denomination...

Bless them all....

YOUR INNER TIKI ROOM

This might be the most important blog I've ever written. It just might be the most important blog ever written by anyone...period.

I'll tell you why in a moment. But first, here's a update on how I'm doing cleaning my office.

The project has turned into

a total make-over. Things are being thrown out, furniture is being moved and...paint is going to be going up soon. These walls haven't seen new paint in 15 years and I'm told that's way too many.

I have purchased a paper-shredder and am shredding my heart out. I'm shredding everything. I'm shredding things that shouldn't even be shredded. But I don't care. Turns out I'm a good shredder. I've got a talent I didn't know about. I'm a shredding savant. I'm adding this to my resume right away. I've got a call into my agent to talk about how to position me in Hollywood as a writer/voice

actor with shredding abilities.

But all this shredding...all this cleaning...all this furniture moving...all this paint selection...all of this has been slightly stressful. (Especially if I want my flat screen TV in time for the Superbowl. I'm not into the Superbowl that much, but I can't imagine a better way to inaugurate it's arrival....especially if the game winds up being between the Cardinals and the Ravens. I've lost most of you, haven't I? You don't want to hear about the Superbowl or how my daughter and I are big Cardinals fans. I know. I don't even want to type it. But, I have and my backspace button is broken.)

By now you've probably realized everything I've written up to this point isn't part of the reason why this is the most important blog I've ever written. You're right. That's coming up right now.

Oh, but one quick thing before that. Paint color. You have to help me choose the paint color for my office. It's been forest green for a long time. This time around I'm thinking about a dark brown or a sand or something. Ralph Lauren has something called a suede finish. It's pretty nice. Here's the color. It's right over there.

That's a nice color, right?

So, now the important thing....oooh...almost forgot. One more thing, then I'll get to the important thing. Any recommendations for a 42" flat screen? It's gotta be an LCD or maybe one of the new ones with the LED backlights. But no plasmas because they use to much energy and I'm not going to contribute to global warming. Oh, wait...they're calling it global cooling this month. Well whatever it turns out to be I don't want to help it along. Anyway any recommendations would be super.

So, the important...nope. One more thing. Sorry. Uhm, we're hoping to rent an elderly man to come over every now and sit in a chair and tell pointless but pleasing stories. Know any? Could you pass along their info? Thanks.

Now, the important thing. As I've been cleaning my office, I've been slightly stressed. And then something occurred to me and it helped me. And I think, if you're stressed, this might help you, too. It's about Disneyland. And the Tiki Room.

I've been to Disneyland countless times. Both as a child and now as a father. Each and every visit, there comes that time when your legs are weary and you're tired, but you don't want to leave. You just need a nice...rest.

Many years ago when such times came up, my parents would lead us to the Tiki Room. There we'd sit and watch birds and flowers sing. After 20 minutes of this, we were ready to once again walk around Disnleyland and do more stuff. I've done this as a parent, too. A nice rest in the Tiki Room and my family is ready for more fun.

So, what I'd like to suggest is that when you are weary and stressed and don't think you can endure anymore...then escape to your inner Tiki Room. The Tiki Room in your head. The Tiki Room in my head may be different than yours. Mine has birds and flowers that sing, but there's also a magical dwarf named, Spiffer. Mine has a lazy boy chair that my wife doesn't find grotesque.

What's in your inner Tiki Room? Flowers? Lizards? Bugs? Songs? It would be kinda weird to have bugs in your inner Tiki Room, but it's your Tiki Room. I won't judge. Still, bugs would be weird.

So, when you are stressed. When you are weary. When you cannot endure. Close your eyes and go to your Inner Tiki Room. In 20 minutes you'll be fine. Close your eyes and go. (Unless you are an Air Traffic Controller. Don't go to your inner Tiki Room while your working. You're sorta outa luck. Just have a stiff drink after your shift ends and THEN go to your Inner Tiki Room.)

So, there it is.

I'm curious? What's in your Inner Tiki Room?

LET'S CLEAN MY OFFICE TOGETHER

And Now...

By now most of you know that I have been appointed by our government as US Ambassador to island nation of Grand Marnier in the Flekl-Kipsy archipelago. (The lesser of the three Lariation archipelagos of the Johansen sub-equitorial region of the Kaliburton/Nessmer tectonic induction zone - PF3-GK.)

We have been preparing for the move and, obviously, it's been pretty busy. Sadly, they don't allow dogs on Grand Marnier so we had them put down. It was all very humane. There were no injections or gasses. The dogs were simply shown the the blue-ray version of The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button. They were dead within six minutes. There's something about looking at an ugly, creepy, old, baby that causes dogs to lapse into a coma. After that, their spleens explode. There's a weird, muffled, popping sound. That's how you know they're dead.

Anywoo, happily, we've been told that the government of Grand Marnier is going to gift us with a large lizard. Evidently it bites, but they've fitted it with something called a "head-cage". My daughter can't wait. She wants to name it Sniffles.

As you can imagine it was quite a shock to learn that I had been appointed US Ambassador to Grand Marnier. It turns out that the King of Grand Marnier, King King, is a big Freakazoid fan. He attended college here in the States. He told me (through his interpreter) that he used to stumble home in a drunken fog from frat parties at 6am on Saturday mornings. That's when the WB used to air Freakazoid. He told me he used to lay in the bathroom in a puddle of his own vomit while watching our show.

Some 12 years later, little has changed. Still drunk, he continues to lay in the bathroom in a puddle of his own vomit and watch Freakazoid DVDs.

I'm told by our own government that I really won't have to do much. Just show up from time to time at various ceremonies like beheadings and stonings. Things like that. The rest of the time, I'm free to do whatever I want.

My family and I can't wait to explore Grand Marnier's 14 square miles of fascinating landscape - most of it an active volcano.

It's going to be quite an adventure!