Froynlaven

And, The Winners Are...

2012-01-23T16:37:00.000-08:00

Janice West!!!

Austin Nebbia!!!

Valerie Tidwell!!!

Josh Gerbrandt!!!

Sorry it has taken me so long to give ya'll the results of our Froynlaven/Angels Way Charity Donation thingy...but I've been knee-deep in clearing out my old office in time for our new guest!

And, as is fitting, this blog is the first official thing I have done in my new digs here at the Froynlaven World Headquarters/Barn.

So, let us all thank Jan, Austin, Valeria and Josh for helping out Angels Way. Posters all around!

And...

Shirt and Poster Update

2012-01-05T17:52:00.000-08:00

Hello all...

I've been on assignment in Iowa for a few days and have not been able to tabulate the results of the Angels Way charity giving thingy.

However, I am now home and shall do so post haste!

Also, if you did make a donation, make sure you sent...or will send by tomorrow...you name via the

worldoffroynlaven email. That's important. Really important. Super important.

Sorry to make everyone do all that, but I'm one guy here. Just one. I have no help. I've asked. But they haven't sent anyone. Oh, how I've asked.

Stay tuned for tomorrow!

A Little Christmas Something From Glank

2011-12-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

My friends at Glank just sent me this merry, musical Christmas Card. I thought I'd share it with you!

And please don't forget Angels Way Maternity Home this Christmas season! They need your help!

Future Home Office Of Froynlaven

2011-12-20T15:52:00.000-08:00

Donation Update

2011-12-18T18:17:00.000-08:00

Firstly, thanks to anyone who has donated to Angels Way through the Global Giving website. If yiu're not aware what I'm talking about, here's the link to that post.

Now then, if you have donated and wish to be considered for the poster/T-Shirt giveaway, would you mind doing the following:

1. Send me an email at worldoffroynlaven@sbcglobal.net and please provide your name. That's all I need. I can then check the database and find our top six donors via the Froynlaven website.

But...remember, you still have until the 29th of December to make that much needed donation.

Okay? Cool.

Now then, I had mentioned there were some big changes here at the Rugg homestead.

My wife's mother will be moving in with us at the end of the month and I am losing my home office. Said home office has been with me for 16 years. I noodled many a Freakazoid idea there. I also noodled many other ideas there. Some were good. Some were better left un-noodled. It is from that very same office I have done all of my bligging. Alas, it is not meant to be anymore.

However, we are finally getting cable. So...

But we Ruggs are an industrious lot. As I write this, a 10X14' barn sits on humble earth in my back yard. It was built in one day. Fer serious. Here's a pic of that momentous 8 hours...

This week electrical shall be installed. Then drywall. Floors. My VO booth will be finished at the end of the month. And a new office will be ready for a new year of bligging.

I shall share pictures tomorrow of the future home of Froynlaven.

HELP ME (AND GET A LITTLE SOMETHING IN RETURN)

2011-12-05T19:54:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you've heard, but Christmas is just around the corner. It is. And, we can all get something.

So, first I'll tell you what I want. As some of you know, I've been on the board of Angels Way Maternity Home for six years. Angels Way is an amazing place that provides a refuge for homeless, pregnant women here in the Los Angeles area. This wonderful home helps these women give their babies the ultimate gift...Life. I could go on, but then I'd start weeping. I already saw War Horse over the weekend. I'm all weeped out.

But...I digress. Angels Way is now listed on the Global Giving website. And they are waiting for a donation from you. More to the point...they need a donation from you. And it couldn't be any easier.

Ready...here's the Link. I think you're all extremely intelligent so I won't go into details on how to donate...suffice to say they take credit cards and such. Here's the link again. And...just in case you missed it...here it is one more time.

If you can give anything...anything will be gladly taken.

Oh, and, just so it makes me look good with my fellow board members...right below the DONATE button you'll see a tab that says, "In honor of". Click that and put my name. That's kind of important because it will show my fellow board members that I actually do things. (Which I generally don't...but am...now.)

And now, the something for YOU.

The 7 persons who donate the most money by using that dandy "in honor of button"and specifying me...Paul Rugg...will receive a special thank you from me* in the form of...

Back in 1995, when Animaniacs made the switch to the WB...and on the occasion of Freakazoid's premier...a special poster was commissioned. I used to have gobs. Now, I only have five left. They are slightly tattered. But...they've made it 16 years. They need new homes. I will gladly autograph them.

Here's a small video showing how neat they are.

But wait...I did say the top seven donors...and yet, I only have six posters. Sooo...

The TOP DONOR who uses the "in honor of" button and specifies Paul Rugg...will get this...

So, that shirt awaits the top donor who...here we go again...uses the in honor of button and specifies me. That way, we can keep track.

Here are some rules. Donations need to be made by December 29th. Those who follow directions well, and are the top seven donors will get my special thanks with wonderful poster...or a shirt.

In event of a tie, we'll take the donations in the order they were received. Cool?

Now, I'm just doing this so ya'll will give to Angels Way. They need it. And I'll be happy for anything you can give. And, the only way I know you gave is if you do it through the "in honor of" button thingy.

I know things are tight for everyone. But every little bit counts.

Okay, there are some big doings at the Rugg household. Changes are happening. Said changes have kept me pretty busy. More on that anon.

Here's a hint.

Barn.

Thank you!!!!!

*void where prohibited.

SAM PLENTY SUNDAYS

2011-10-23T10:46:00.000-07:00

In which we spend time with...

INTO THE FRAY

2011-10-19T11:29:00.000-07:00

For months now, many of you have been urging me to help resolve the conflict between professors Anghurst Sveng and Kep Othlanpangin. During that time, I purposely chose to stay out of the affair in the hopes that these two exceptional minds could resolve their conflict in due course.

Alas, that has not happened. These past few months have brought only ever-escalating acrimony. This acrimony now threatens to poison all of our work and, should I allow it to continue, it is highly probable that their bitter dispute could lead to the total collapse of that field of research we all hold so dear.

And so, reluctantly, I find it necessary to step into the breach and bring this matter to a swift yet thoughtful conclusion.

It goes without saying that I hold both Professor Sveng and Professor Othlanpangin in the highest esteem. Both are good men. Both have good intentions. And both are striving for a better understanding of the world around us.

That said, Professor Sveng is an utter moron. Now I know why some animals eat their young. If I could find enough wood, I'd board his mouth shut. If brains were bricks, he'd be homeless. What holds his ears apart? I'd like to see things from his point of view, but I can't seem to get my head that far up my bottom. I don't know what makes him so stupid, but it's really working. When he goes to the mind reader, does he get half price? Having heard him talk, I now know the dead do contact us. Calling him an idiot would be an insult to all the stupid people. It takes him an hour an a half to watch "60 Minutes."

Hopefully we can now put this matter behind us.

I know you all join me in congratulating both Professors Sveng and Othlanpangin in their contributions to our field of research.

THE WORST MEETING OF MY LIFE - THE SECOND PART

2011-10-18T11:26:00.001-07:00

Well, here it is. This is the final chapter in my horrid meeting opus. Those who never read part one may wish to do so at this time. You can find it here. Things will make more sense if you do. Or don't. This is a happy place and I'm not going to tell you what to do. You are free to make your own decisions. Disastrous as they may be.

When we last left me, I had just walked into Mr. Big's office. 20 minutes prior to this, I had been filled with a cocky enthusiasm. It had now been replaced by a particularly strong sense of self-loathing and a desire to run. I didn't. I rightly figured that bolting at high speed toward the exit would be off-putting and diminish my chances at being involved in whatever secret project I had been summoned for.

So, I put my best fake smile on and entered Mr. Big's office.

BOOTS.

Two men were sitting in the office with Mr. Big. One of them was wearing cowboy boots. Fancy cowboy boots. They had flecks of red in them. And maybe snaky things on the side. Boots. Maybe this man had a horse. Maybe his horse was outside. But I didn't see a horse when I entered. Maybe his horse was around back. Maybe there was no horse at all. Maybe he drove here in a car. But can you even drive with boots like that? Perhaps he had been riding his horse earlier in the day and then was late to the meeting and didn't have time to get out of his boots. Good, heavens. Why am I wondering about this guy's boots and horses? I'm now in the office of Mr. Big. THE Mr. Big. Time to focus.

If this guy didn't have any horses then why would he wear boots like that...especially in Northern California? You don't wear boots like that unless you have horses. Are boots like that even comfortable? If they're not comfortable and he doesn't have any horses, then he must really like the way they look. Boots are okay. But they take a while to put on. I don't think I'd have them by my bed at night. Especially if there's an earthquake. No thank you. That would take so long and....STOP THINKING ABOUT BOOTS, Rugg.

But I couldn't. See, my brain was using it as a coping mechanism. I was totally freaked out and my mind was trying to calm me down. Boots. Those are some very expensive boots. I don't know how much boots like that cost, but I bet it's a lot. Probably boots like that are special ordered from a boot guy.

As I tried to make sense of the boots, I moved toward Mr. Big. Mr. Big never got up from his chair. He wasn't going to make this easy. He just stared at me politely as I approached to shake his hand. But wait. Should I shake his hand first or shake the hands of the other two men. Surely Mr. Big was more important that Boots and Mr. Guy. And what's with those boots anyway? Boots like that is a serious fashion statement. If you have boots like that you must have others. I wonder how many other pairs of boots he has like that? You have to have a pretty big closet for a collection of boots. If this was his only pair of boots, then why did he choose to wear them today? Luckily, I don't have a lot of shoes, so I don't spend a lot of time picking out what I'm going to put on my feet and...ENOUGH WITH THE BOOTS! Shake somebody's hand and get this over with!

I shook Mr. Big hands. Then did the same to the other two men. Words were spoken. Words I don't remember. But the words were along the lines of, "This is Bill and Hank." I wanted to ask Hank about his boots. Maybe the three writers that had been so jocular just moments before had done a whole bit about Hank's boots. Maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should say something pithy like, "Nice, boots, Hank. Where's your horse?" Maybe they would all chuckle and then I would...

Bear Country.

My thoughts about saying something pithy were interrupted by Mr. Big. He was holding a piece of paper. He looked at me and said it again. Bear Country.

Bear Country? What the heck is Bear Country? Why is Mr. Big looking at a piece of paper and saying the words Bear Country? The other men nodded. They had the same piece of paper.

Bear Country? What the heck does that mean? Is this some sort of secret code. Is Mr. Big a Freemason? Is this all some strange roundabout way of getting me to join their secret order? And what's up with that guys BOOTS?

I had no option but to say, "excuse me?"

Mr. Big spoke again. "It says here you wrote Bear Country." The men looked at their paper and nodded.

Suddenly it hit me. Ohhhhhhh. "You mean Country Bears?"

Here's a hint. Don't do that. When someone like Mr. Big says you wrote Bear Country. Just say, "Yeah. I wrote Bear Country. I love Bear Country. Bear Country. Bear Country. Bear Country."

We talked briefly about my experience on Bear Country.

Then, Mr. Big asked me if I like writing with a group or am I more a solitary writer. This was an actual question!

I immediately began answering. I answered truthfully. I'm a solitary kind of writer. I started actually relaxing. We're talking now. Finally. I don't even care about Hank's boots. Yeah. I'm a solitary writer. See, I like talking with people and then going away and...

Thanks for coming.

I had given the wrong truthful answer. Just as the blood had begun to return to my head...it started flowing out again. Hank and Bill stood. Mr. Big said it was nice meeting me.

The meeting was over. I think I just sat there a moment. No wait. We're just getting started. Bear Country. Boots. Please. We're supposed to laugh and stuff. I'm supposed to get along with you. This was supposed to go so well that you want to walk me around the place and tell me stories about that really good first movie you made that I really like more than the others I didn't.

Hank and Bill were shaking my hand. It was irretrievably over. Over over. Mr. Big now stood. Over over.

I turned around and walked toward the door. And I tripped. I almost fell. I looked down like you do when you trip for no reason. You look for the trippy thing that tripped you. It wasn't there.

Next thing I remember I was rushing toward the exit. My legs remembered which way to go. They had to. My brain wasn't helping them. Down the stairs. And out...

There was my town car waiting. My driver stood by the back down. I could swear he was now wearing a mortician's outfit. The car was hearse. I got in. The door shut and we were moving away. I couldn't speak. I wanted a do-over. Don't take me away.

It was my ride of shame. Two hours before the world had been bright and shiny.

I sat at the airport. Quiet. Glum.

The flight back to Burbank was bumpy and icky.

But then I came home. My wife and daughter greeted me. All was well.

And nobody wore any boots.

I told my wife the story. "You should write about that one day."

"Maybe I will."

Now I have.

The Window Lottery

2011-10-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

I am finally home. And I return with a newfound respect for windows. More precisely, I have a newfound respect for what windows provide. Views.

I have been in many a hotel these past three weeks. I have seen many things. I have seen many things because each hotel room had a window. Through these windows I could see my surroundings. Sometimes the view was nice. Like in Miami.

See? Isn't that nice? There are boats. There's a little island or something. There's a big tree. There's water and junk.

Every time I checked into a hotel, I would move quickly to the window to see what there was to see. Sadly, I was in Miami only a few short hours to appreciate this nice view.

Sometimes my view was not so nice.

Such a view was found in Muncie. Muncie is an otherwise very nice place. However, I would be remiss if I did not point out that the view from my motel room wasn't very appealing.

Here it is. It's the Stoops GM dealership across the street. Stoops has many good cars for you to buy. I should know. I counted them all. There were over 100. There were many colors to choose from. There were many models. I saw a woman buy a car. It was interesting. Not super interesting. But sorta interesting. Super interesting would have been if the woman bought a car and then turned into an alien and sucked everyone's brains out through their eye sockets. But she didn't. She just bought the car and then drove off the lot. I don't know where she drove off to, but it was probably somewhere in Muncie. That's the thing about looking out your hotel room window. You can only see so much. You have to imagine the rest. I'd like to think the woman that bought the car eventually turned into an alien and sucked

somebody's brain out through their eye sockets. But, that's only speculation.

Most likely she drove home and made pot roast and then fed the dog.

Moving on, sometimes the view from my hotel room was nondescript. Like this view from my room in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.

There's a big tree there. And a parking lot beyond. The tree never moved to allow me to see anything else. I thought about getting a chainsaw and cutting it down, but propriety steadied this impulse. I was a visitor in Illinois. I didn't want to anger anyone but cutting down their trees. Illinois has many trees and I didn't think they'd miss this particular one, but it might have had

special significance to someone. Maybe that's were Bob proposed marriage to Gwen. Maybe they came to that tree every year to celebrate. If I had cut it down, they'd probably wonder what happened. Next thing you know, Bob would leave Gwen. Gwen would go crazy and take her rage out on monkeys. I don't know if Illinois has many monkeys, but I couldn't risk it. I would just have to imagine what was beyond that tree. Or watch TV.

Yes, there are many views I witnessed. But one view in particular was astounding. It was a view so startling, so creepy and so bleak, that I will never forget it.

It was 3am when I checked into the hotel in Indianapolis. I was too tired to check out my view. That would wait until morning. When morning arrived, I threw open the curtains and came face to face with...

I wasn't prepared for this. What the heck was I looking at. Whatever those things are they were huge. At least 15 feet tall.

Surely looking out the window the other way would provide some glimmer of hope!

So I looked.

And...

Saw the same thing.

The wall behind these ducts went up 10 stories.

This was not a view. It was a glimpse at a distopian future where machines ruled and man was no more.

No birds. No trees. Just a big, beige wall and air ducts.

Man had been exterminated. Just big clunky machines remained. Big clunky machines that made clunky machine noises.

How I longed to see Stoops GM dealership! Or a tree that blocked my view. Where had all the people gone? What had we done?

I quickly closed my window. I refused to open it ever again. Luckily, we checked out the next day. But still!

So please. Don't ever complain about a view again. Be thankful for Stoops GM dealership. Chunky trees. Anything. Anything is better than this.

Trust me.

LIFE ON THE ROAD

2011-10-06T19:38:00.000-07:00

We're winding down the Stuffed and Unstrung tour. Three performances left: Gainesville. Melbourne. Miami. It's been fun...but life on the road is a challenge. It wouldn't be so bad if we could just do show after show. The shows are great. Performing is fun. It's all the stuff we do in between shows. Like...traveling. Hotels. Motels. Bus rides. Checking in. Checking out. Laundry. And waiting. Waiting for call time. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for something. I have been reduced to a mere child. I have no means of getting anywhere on my own. I must wait until others see fit to tell me where I'm going and provide the mode of transportation that will get me there.

I could walk. But where? I tried that in Muncie, Indiana. I walked for about a mile until it occurred to me that I didn't really have anyplace to go. There was a place across the street from our motel called, Rural King. But I didn't need a combine. I mean, combines are neat, but one would never fit in my luggage. For a nano second I kinda thought it would be fun to drop my daughter off at school in a combine. But, ever the rationalist, I quickly put the thought aside after a few hours. I considered buying a really cool hunting blind. I have no idea what that is, but at $1,795.00 it seemed like a bargain.

We're now in Florida and have been traveling in rock-star style in a tour bus. After each night's performance, we pile on and hit the road. We drive into the wee hours of the morning. We each have a little cubby to sleep in...complete with a curtain. The cubbies are sort of like coffins. Only, you're not dead. But you do look like it. With little room above you, there's no option but to fold your arms on your chest like a peaceful dead person.

Now that I've gone through this experience I have no fear of death. It's just like being in a cubby on a tour bus at 3am in the middle of Florida.

Did I mention that the cubbies look like coffins? Cuz they do. I don't think I'd freak out now if some crazy person kidnapped me and put me in a box and buried me in the ground. Maybe a little. But I'd overcome my fear by remembering being in my little coffin cubby on the tour bus.

Cuz it's a lot like a coffin.

I mentioned that. Right?

Bus Of The Day

2011-09-28T18:56:00.000-07:00

Today's journey took us from Muncie, Indiana to Bloomington, Illinois. We have a performance at the Arts Center tomorrow night.

Strangely, we had already been in Glen Ellyn, Illinois the day before yesterday. And after the show tomorrow, we head back to Indiana for a performance in Indianapolis.

We will have crossed the same state line too many times. Yet, we continue to happily spread the Stuffed and Unstrung cheer...albeit in a very roundabout way.

That said, we are a hearty stock. The miscreant puppets are also behaving themselves.

Tomorrow I will write a poem about air.

I will also write an essay about my favorite bear encounter.

The Glamour Of Touring

2011-09-26T20:45:00.000-07:00

Hello all. And by all, I mean those of you that think you deserve to be in that category. And by that, I mean those of you who feel that by being in that category you are now being referred to by me. And by me, I mean...me.

Well, here I am in Muncie, Indiana. This is day five of the Stuffed and Unstrung tour. We've had some super fun shows so far. Touring on the road is sorta new to me. I am striving to adapt.

Today was a travel day. But when you think about it...aren't all of our days travel days? Hmmm? Isn't that interesting when you think about it? Hmmmm? Well? I mean, we are traveling through time aren't we? Hmmm? Isn't that interesting? Aren't you amazed at how intellectual I've become on the road? Hmmm?

Anyway...Hmmmm?

Anyway, this was today's mode of transport.

Yes. I know. You're impressed. And you're asking yourselves...those wheels on the back are very tiny for a vehicle that size. Aren't you? Hmmm? Why, they almost appear to be little toy wheels.

I assure you they were real. And they scooted us along at a nice clip.

Traveling like this is a luxurious way to

go. And then, there's always the looking forward to what you'll do when you get into the next town. Go shopping? Sightseeing?

How about laundry? Hmmmm?

I heartily recommend The Laundry Basket here in Muncie. A fine time was had by one and all. Their dryers are wonderful. I used Bounce fabric sheets. My clothes came out springtime fresh. I used two small boxes of Tide and didn't regret it AT ALL. It got my clothes cleaner than the regular leading brand. Which also happens to be Tide. Which is also interesting when you think about it. Hmmmm?

So, if you're ever in the Muncie area. Please stop by the Laundry Basket. Say hello to the nice woman behind the counter who I never spoke to. I didn't have to. Signs and instructions abound at the Laundry Basket. Why someone from the moon with no possible conception of laundry and its complex workings would have NO PROBLEM WHATSOEVER doing their laundry at the Laundry Basket. They also have drop off service and dry cleaning. There are two benches out front to sit on if you like. But why? There are more seats inside than I care to count. But I did. There are 43. Also, there are two doors in front to help you get inside. And out. They will open if you pull them. However, there are also two doors on the sides of the building. I don't mean there are two doors on each side of the building. Just one door on each. But I found them sufficient enough. I had no need to use the side doors. But, had I needed side doors, these would have been fine. I don't mean to go on and on about these doors, but they impressed me greatly. Their construction was of aluminum and glass. Although, there could have also been another metal used. Maybe Hexerlite or Veldpex.

Laundry Basket also has a change machine. It worked fine! The floors were clean. And why wouldn't they be? Probably the only thing people spill on them is laundry soap. It's soap. So, it's clean. Hmmm?

Anyway, tomorrow I'll review of the Jiffy Lube across the street and chat with a man.

Words CAN express!!!!!

2011-09-16T08:38:00.001-07:00

On The Road Again

2011-09-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

Hitting the road again for more Henson puppet fun. I'll be performing with Stuffed and Unstrung in the following wonderful cities...

Milwaukee, WI - 9/23

Pabst Theater

Glen Ellyn, IL - 9/24

McAninch Hall, College Of DuPage

Muncie, IN - 9/27

Emens Auditorium, Ball State University

Bloomington, IL 9/29

Bloomington Center For The Performing Arts

Indianapolis, IN 9/30

Clowes Memorial Hall

Sarasota, FL 10/5

Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall

Gainesville, FL 10/7

Phillips Center For The Performing Arts

Melbourne, FL 10/8

King Center For The Performing Arts

Miami, FL 10/9

Ziff Ballet Opera House

Please come and buy me a soda.

Showtime

2011-08-18T18:13:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone! (And by everyone, I mean YOU!)

We start the run of Stuffed and Unstrung this evening at the Curran Theater.

If you're in San Francisco, stop by.

Bring money.

And a sweater.

And boots.

But mostly money. And boots. And a sweater.

Freaky Friday!

2011-08-12T11:37:00.000-07:00

Yes, today begins a Froynlaven tradition! Every Friday on this inestimable blog, we'll feature all things related to Freakazoid. Why? Because I'm particularly nappy and can't think of anything else. I'd appreciate it is ya'll could pass on anything you think might be of interest. Like Keeper did.

Okay then, to inaugurate this weekly feature...

DUNCAN SINGS!!!!!

Welcome, Duncan.

My Interview With Keeper

2011-08-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

Whatcha Doin' August 18, 19 & 20th?

2011-08-01T13:17:00.000-07:00

In case you're in the San Francisco area on those dates, then stop by the Curran Theater. I'll be performing with real Henson puppeteers in 'Stuffed and Unstrung'.

Stop by and say 'hey!'

And The Winner(s) Are...

2011-08-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yes! Yes! Excitement! Noises!

Excitement Noises!

Well, I must say, the Froynlaven Musical Challenge entries were all outstanding!

It was very difficult to choose a winner. Frankly, even attempting to do this rather difficult challenge makes all who submitted WINNERS. Each had something unique and groovy.

Vanessa's amazing puppetry and use of Russian backgrounds was awe inspiring.

Michael's clever use of desert flora, a tie and a hose was genius.

Luke's use of a garage and musical interludes was refreshing and sublime! (Is there a musical instrument Luke cannot play?)

And Keeper. Keeper has once again gone above and beyond the call of duty. He used a watering can. He sang. He wore a vest.

I think everyone will join me in congratulating Keeper as the biggest winner in this challenge of winners!

A future post in this blog will feature an interview with Keeper. If I can get a hold of him. Hopefully I can.

Anyway...Luke, Vanessa, Michael, Keeper...

It is folks like you that make me proud to live.

Congratulations!

FROYNLAVEN MUSICAL CHALLENGE WINNERS TO BE ANNOUNCED...

2011-07-28T21:58:00.000-07:00

On Monday the 1st of August!

Yes. It shall be a grand time! With balloons and an armada of amazing festooneries!

This week has been our yearly "staycation" here in the LA area. More on that tomorrow.

Plus, my wife and I were even stuck in the middle of a riot!

It's been a weird week...

AND THE FOUR ENTRIES ARE

2011-07-22T19:35:00.000-07:00

Just got one more in...under the wire.

So here they are...in no particular order!

Vanessa sends us this lovely entry...

And Michael...

And Luke...

And Keeper...

A job well done!!!!!!!

FROYNLAVEN MUSICAL CHALLENGE LATEST ENTRIES

2011-07-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

WOW!

So far I've received three entries to the latest Froynlaven Musical Challenge! They are all exemplary!

The deadline is still a few hours off, but I thought I should post what I have and then add to it if anyone else wishes to take up the challenge.

The challenge was...

HOW WOULD THE TROLOLO GUY DO THE FREAKAZOID THEMESONG

This first one is from Michael.

Next, we have Luke's...

And Keeper...

THE WORST MEETING OF MY LIFE

2011-07-21T11:33:00.001-07:00

Was actually supposed to be the best meeting of my life.

I've often shared this story with friends. So, why not you? Hmm?

Before I launch into my story about the worst meeting of my life, there are some ground rules we're going to have to go over and agree to. Okay? Okay.

Because this worst meeting of my life was with a very important person, I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. That means I can't reveal what the particular project was or who I met with. So, I shall just call the person....MR. BIG.

I would appreciate it if ya'll refrained from idle speculation as to the identity of Mr. Big. That could get me into trouble. And we don't want that. Unless you're someone who hates me. I hope you're not. Because that would make me sad.

So, as long as we're agreed...I can now move onto

'THE WORST MEETING OF MY LIFE THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST MEETING OF MY LIFE AND KIND OF MAKES ME ILL WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT IT.'

The Year was 2002.

I was editing a pilot at Disney when my cell phone rang. It was my agent. I knew it was my agent because she said, "This is your agent."

In hushed tones she informed me that I would soon be getting a call from a representative of Mr. Big. My tongue almost detached from where my tongue attaches. (I don't know what that's called or have the energy to look it up. So, let's just call it my Gilophlabius.)

So, anyway. I was shocked. I was a HUGE fan of Mr. Big. He made one of my favorite movies. Then he made two more. And then, like years later...he made three more that took place before the one I really liked. But they weren't as good. Anyway...

When I was in high school I wanted to be Mr. Big. Mr. Big was awesome!

Sure enough, not 30 seconds after I hung up with my agent, I got a call from a very secretive man who wanted to make sure I was me and not someone else. Once I had convinced him I was me and not not-me, he informed me that Mr. Big wanted to see me right away. The next day.

Once again my tongue almost detached from my Gilophlabius. Mr. Big wanted to see me? Mr. Big knows me?! I didn't say that, of course. I said something glib like, "I need to check my schedule." After pausing for what I considered an appropriate schedule-checking amount of time, I agreed.

Dandy. Excellent. Arrangements have already been made. He gave me instructions to take the first flight out of Burbank. They already have my name. From there I shall be flown to Oakland, California. A driver will meet me and whisk me to Mr. Big's compound about an hour away.

ME AND MR. BIG. He wants to meet me. Mr. Big. Mr. Big and Me. We're going to get along famously. And why not? I bet....I just bet that he's going to like me so much, he'll invite me to stay for dinner where we'll talk late into the evening about films and our mutual interest in Sea Monkeys.

Plus...I was going to his COMPOUND! A super cool place of legend and lore!

In close collaboration with my wife, I spent three hours deciding which of the three non-Tshirts I own would best convey my love of films and interest in Sea Monkeys. I couldn't decide so we went to Target and bought three more. (In the end we settled on a non-assuming plaid.)

And so, off I went to the Burbank airport. Never have I gone to an airport with such excitement! Never have the dread and fear of flying been so muted. Yeah, so I was about to get into a metal tube with barely less than a 16th of an inch of aluminum between me and sky...I was going in a metal tube with barely less that a 16th of an inch of aluminum between me and sky...to see MR. BIG. Ha! Invincible!

A Lincoln Towncar met me in Oakland. My very own chauffeur whisked me north. There I sat. Confident as can be. I looked at everyone else in their meager modes of transport. Poor, simple humans driving their own cars! Ha! They were going about their dull, dreary lives. Probably going to the market or something boring like that. Maybe a few of them were going to the dentist. Maybe one of them was going to pick out tile for a bathroom they were remodeling. How trite. How singularly boring. I was going to meet Mr. Big.

We wound our way north. Soon, we were passing through rolling hills. And then...we arrived.

I had reached the place of legend. We passed through the gates and the car stopped at the entrance to Mr. Big's domain. A very quiet domain. An eerily quiet domain. A super, eerily quiet domain. So quiet, in fact, that I could hear my cells dividing.

I was ushered into the building which housed Mr. Big's office. It was even more quiet inside the building. Now I could hear my hair growing.

I was taken up the stairs. The only sounds were my cells dividing, my hair growing and my corduroy pant legs rubbing against each other.

I was led into a small office and informed that someone would come and move me to another office as the time for the meeting grew closer. I was left alone. Alone in a small room that looked like someplace your grandmother would sew booties. Did I mention it was quiet? There I sat. I hadn't been nervous before. But I started to think about things. This was big. Meeting Mr. Big was big. Where was everyone? Where was the grandmother that used to sew booties in this room? What was I doing here? I needed to get home to pick out tile for a bathroom we were remodeling.

About 10 minutes later someone came and informed me that I was being moved to an office that was closer to Mr. Big's office. Why hadn't we just gone there first? I don't know. Maybe the air was different in that building and I was being acclimated to the change in pressure. I wanted to ask about the grandma that sewed booties but there was no time. We were off and marching ever closer to Mr. Big's domain. It got even more quiet.

I was put into another office. I was told the next office I went into would be Mr. Big's. Why did they have to do it this way? Now I was really nervous. I sat there. I twiddled my thumbs and then realized I had brought a book with me in my backpack. I decided to bring a backpack because it would look like I had stuff to do. You know, in between flying to meet Mr. Big I had a lot of creative stuff to do. I didn't of course. All that was in the backpack was a toothbrush and the thickest book I could find at the house. It was a collection of C.S. Lewis' essays and short stories. I needed it to look like I had a lot of stuff in there.

So I started reading it. I couldn't concentrate. Soon, the quiet of that place was broken by muffled laughter. It was coming from the very next room. Now, I had been told that Mr. Big would be meeting with a bunch of different writers on that day. I correctly assumed I was hearing Mr. Big meeting with a writer. And, oh, the laughter was loud. And weighty. And voluminous! Whoever was meeting with Mr. Big was doing great! Wow! The laughter only got bigger. And bigger. I knew this was a bad sign. I'm generally not great in meetings. But whoever was in there was killing.

I heard the door to Mr. Big office open and three writers walked out. There was still a lot of laughter. I heard someone say, "Fantastic! Great! You guys are soooo funny!" They walked down the hall...

Someone came in to get me. Oh no. I don't want to go in there. No. I want to go home. I have a dental appointment. I want to leave. But my legs betrayed me. They led me in to Mr. Big office. Stupid legs! Dumb legs!

And...

There he was...

Mr. Big.

END PART ONE

FIND PART TWO HERE.

For The Rest of Us...

2011-07-20T14:27:00.000-07:00

AND THE CLOCK TICKS

2011-07-18T20:09:00.000-07:00

As clocks sometimes do!

The deadline for entry into the latest Froynlaven musical challenge is 6pm PDT on Friday, July 22nd. I'd make it later, but we have to get my daughter all packed and ready for camp.

Now, then...remember to email me at the Froynlaven address and provide me with a link. And where's that address? At the upper right of this blog's homepage.

Yes. I am illegally watering the backyard at this very moment...fancifying it in preparations for the winner's interview!

Kay then. Tomorrow I'm gonna do a little essay on writing for animation . Cuz I feel like it.

Until then...

Don't be lazy!

More Trololo Fun

2011-07-12T18:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Scott for sending this my way. My Lord Of The Rings crazy daughter is beside herself with joy! Once again, Trololo Guy brings the Rugg family immense joy!

And remember...the Challenge!!!!!!

FROYNLAVEN MUSICAL CHALLENGE

2011-07-11T18:17:00.001-07:00

Yes, let's kick off a new season of blogging with another musical/video challenge!

WHATDOYASAY?! HUH?! WHO'S FIRED UP?! CUZ I AM! FIRED UP, I MEAN! WOOOO! IS THIS A GREAT BALLCLUB OR WHAT?!!!!!!!!

So, here's the deal. Last year, I posted a link to my favorite thing ever on Youtube. It's the Trololo Guy. Here it is again so you can refresh your memory...

Anyway. I could watch that all day. But I wonder how the Trololo Guy would do the Freakazoid Themesong? Would there be lyrics? Humming. Other stuff? I'm curious...

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE DECIDED THIS IS FROYNLAVEN'S BIGGEST EVER CHALLENGE!!!!

The winner of said challenge will be featured in a video interview on this prestigious blog. I will do the interviewing from my backyard where I have been illegally watering on Wednesdays!!!!!

The deadline to send your link via the Contact Froynvalen email address found on the upper right hand corner of this inestimable blog is...Friday, July 22nd.

Good luck. This is big. Bonus points for insanity. Creativity and costume. Extra bonus points for something involving water.

OY!!!!

2011-07-08T22:21:00.000-07:00

So, I promised to return to blogging today and I am...late as it is. See, a little job thingy got in the way...but now...now it's not. And my mind can once again freely play in this happy place.

Now then, I promised a special announcement. Hmmm.

Okay, here's one.

SECRET MOUNTAIN FORT AWESOME

I've been working for a year doing the voice of 'Gweelok' for this new Cartoon Network show that will premier in the fall. It's been a blast and hopefully you will enjoy it.

Further...

Have another pilot in the works at Nickelodeon that should be completed some time in the fall.

Further...

Just finished writing my 7th script for Kung Fu Panda - Legends Of Awesomeness.

Further...

There shall be a HUGE Froynlaven musical challenge beginning THIS MONDAY. This is BIG...for the winner will WIN something LARGE.

Kay then...

Till Monday when things are going to get INSANE.

Paul

FROYNLAVEN CORRECTION: RETURNS 7/8/2011

2011-06-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

SO THERE!

FROYNLAVEN RETURNS 4/8/2011

2011-06-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

With all new buttons and thingies!

And a SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!

KEEPER DOES AFLAK

2011-05-16T19:05:00.000-07:00

Spurned on by Luke's gritty determination, Keeper rises to the challenge for yet another...

FROYNLAVEN CHALLENGE!!!!

BWA HA HA HA!

From Luke!!!!

2011-05-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

I have been away on vacation, but, upon my recent return....I found these wonderments from LUKE!

This is his musical interlude as he prepared for his Aflak audition....

And this is his Aflak audition.

Making Update 3

2011-04-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

This is a response to Mr. John P. McCann's recent post.

Making Update 2

2011-04-11T15:16:00.000-07:00

By now you've all read John P. McCann's derisive, pernicious and WOEFULLY INADEQUATE response to my post in which I respectfully asked him to clarify his position on making.

Not only did Mr. McCann NOT answer the question, but attempted to turn the TABLES on ME by SUGGESTING that I was being PAID by the FAT CATS and SPECIAL INTERESTS in WASHINGTON! The foes of making have once again sunk to a new low!

Tomorrow I shall prove conclusively and with much certainty that the Foes Of Making have sought to undermine the American concept of making and are secretly doing this behind closed doors!

Making Update

2011-04-08T15:23:00.000-07:00

Readers of this blog have long known of my opinion on making. And yet, curiously, fellow blogger John McCann, who I always assumed shared my views...seems to have taken a puzzling turn in the other direction. Why? I suspect the reasons but have chosen not to comment at this time.

John can clarify his views and hopefully all will be resolved. However, if he cannot or refuses, then I suppose we'll all know the reasons.

I've challenged him on this. And I think it's only fair that he thoroughly present his case on making. I had not intended to go public on the difference of opinion we share on the concept of making, but in these trying times I think it's important we know WHO is WHO.

AUDITION DAY

2011-03-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

The Aflac Flak and Me...and You

2011-03-23T11:59:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you've heard Aflac is looking for a new voice for it's iconic duck. If you haven't, well, Aflac is looking for a new voice for it's iconic duck.

This is the duck.

Aflac has just announced that anyone can submit their audition. My VO agent just sent me the copy so that I can add my voice to the thousands of others. The audition copy is quite simple. Just the word, "Aflac". That's it. It should be an original interpretation. In other words, the company wants one to "make it your own."

So, if I have to audition. I think it's only fair that you do, too. I think we've got equal chances at this thing. You. Me. And the tens of thousands of others.

So, come on. Let's do this. Together. Let's be a community of loving support. We'll exchange ideas. Help each other. Hone our skills and put our best feet forward.

Link your auditions on the comments section and see what others think. I promise to steal the best one and use it for myself.

We can do this. Together. Friends helping friends.

Auction Update and A Welcome Return

2010-12-20T07:59:00.000-08:00

My auction for charity will take place in Late January. Seems to do this "by the book" there are some forms and such. So. I'll update as it get close.

I would also highly recommend you read the work of journalist Ling Carter. Somehow he gets the stories the others can't. He's been away on assignment. But he's back and more dangerous than ever.

Please visit his site often.

Interesting News Items

Froynlaven Auction For Charity

2010-12-11T15:39:00.000-08:00

Yep. Years worth of animation cells from Animaniacs, Freakazoid and other odds and ends shall be sold by me! 100% of proceeds will go to Angels Way Maternity Home in the San Fernando Valley. I've been working with them for years and...in this economy...they could use a little help keeping the doors open.

Here's a little preview of the stuff I'm going to sell. Probably on Ebay. But I gotta figure that out.

A Lovely Joke

2010-12-07T17:44:00.000-08:00

Normally, I don't like jokes. Don't know why. You'd think I do. But I don't. Should. But don't.

That said, I did hear a joke I thought was blog worthy.

So. Gather everyone around. Quiet. Ready?

And thus begins the joke:

Seems there was a monastery high in the mountains. The rules at this monastery were quite strict. Talking was forbidden. Always. Except once a year...on Christmas...one monk could say one sentence and one sentence only. And each year, it changed from monk to monk.

So, one Christmas, as all the monks were sitting down to dinner...they awaited what Brother Duncan would say. He rose from the table, looked at everyone and said, "I think these mashed potatoes are quite good." Then he sat down.

The next Christmas...365 days later, it was Brother Michael's turn to speak. He rose from the table, looked at the others and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy." He then sat down.

365 days later...at Christmas dinner...it was Brother Andrew's turn to speak. He rose from the table and said, "I'm sick and tired of all this bickering!"

That's the end of the joke.

Mrs. Yortson And The Kindly Elf

2010-12-02T08:32:00.000-08:00

Mac Drivel, my creative writing teacher at Burbank City College. has encouraged me to put some of my short stories on my blog. He says it will give me the confidence I need to overcome by fear of narratives. Seems I don't like stories per se, but enjoy typing quite a bit. So, here goes.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf represents my first attempt at the French writing method of 'calligraphie inepte'. I got the idea for the story while watching a snake eat a mouse at our local Petco. Mac Drivel has encouraged us to choose a color that represents the basic mood of the story. I have chosen amber. But I think you will also detect a hint of green. Although, one sentence is decidedly blue.

'Calligraphie inepte' was quite popular during the Renaissance. Blathord L'Blanc, a French physician and mortician, invented the technique while embalming a circus monkey.

Anyway, enough stalling. (I'm just so nervous.) Here it is.

Mrs. Yortsen And The Kindly Elf. By Paul Rugg. 12/2/2010. Mac Drivel's Creative Writing Class. Room 321. Seat 32C.

"Swoon!" went the noises which were heard by Mrs. Yortsen and yet not made by her! (The sounds I mean.) "Swish!" Again there was another noise which caused within her an interest to arise as to what those sounds could be as she sat there at the kitchen table in a chair by the window while looking outside and wondering what the sounds were.

As if by magic or something else akin to magic yet not of this world, a deep thrumming began to osculate the rich humus of her yard. Humus was heaved mightily and when the heaving eventually ceased, a hole was noticed by her. (Mrs. Yortsen.)

Mrs. Yortsen rose from her sitting position in the chair and pushed away from the table that the chair was near. A gasp rose in her throat and eventually came out as an audible noise. This was a noise of surprise and it sounded something like, "Whhhhhaaaaaat?" (Only in gasp form. Like if you sat on a tack. I don't know how to spell that noise.)

She was wearing slippers, so Mrs. Yortsen thought it would be fine to run outside. Whereas, if she hadn't been wearing slippers, she would have to had to gotten them first which would have meant she needed to go upstairs. But she didn't. (Which is lucky for the story. Because the scene upstairs where she gets her slippers was kind of boring. That's the blue sentence I told you about.)

Throwing open the door, yet with its hinges still in place, meaning that she didn't actually throw the door but merely opened it aggressively, Mrs. Hamilton (who had changed her name from Mrs. Yortsen in a scene that I decided to not include) ran to the hole, bent over and looked inside.

"I am an elf! And stuck at that! Timberdee!" (That was something this elf said as an expression.)

Mrs. Hamilton (aka Mrs. Yortsen former wife of Mayor Beld Yortsen whom had been arrested five years earlier for stealing tax funds and was now in jail and THAT was the reason Mrs. Hamilton [Yorsten] decided to change her name in the scene I decided not to include) make another gasp sound.

"I shall fetch a shovel and dig you out," said Mrs. Hamilton happily to the elf. (I don't mean to imply that Mrs. Hamilton was happy at this point in the story. But merely that she said it happily. There's a big difference.)

With that, she dug the elf out of the hole, but unfortunately pierced his heart in the process. He died soon thereafter. Fearing that she would be suspected as having killed an elf...and already worried about the fact that her husband was in jail and if she went to jail who would look after Ben, their son who was at a sleep-away camp in the mountains...she buried the elf. But only after going through his pocket for money. (Elves, as a general rule, only have one pocket. Woodland dwarves have more than that, but they do not figure into this story.)

The end.

My First Turkey

2010-11-24T17:44:00.000-08:00

I'm sure we've all been there. That first time you cook a turkey on your own. As dusk gives way to the mellow meanderings of autumn orangeness and whispy wantings (I've been taking a writing class), I am drawn back to my first attempt at roasting a turkey. It was shortly after marrying my wife.

My wife is, in case you didn't know, from Cuba. Cubans are a thrifty people. After coming to America they usually celebrated Thanksgiving by eating a single raspberry and then arguing with each other about when Castro would die. Then they'd say it was too cold and everyone would put on a coat.

And so, I was determined to give my dearest wife a true American Thanksgiving. A proper Thanksgiving. As an American, I was perfectly suited to do just that.

And what better way to do that than to purchase a fresh turkey from a fresh turkey farm. These turkeys were so fresh they were still living. I brought home my live turkey (by the way, they make a mess in the car) and set about to prepare it for dinner.

I didn't know much about cooking. But I knew an oven was vital to the process. I preheated it to 325 and put the turkey in. It was hard getting it in there. It tried to snap at me a few times, but I eventually lured it in with some candy corn.

What I remember the most is the noise. For about a half an hour it put up a pretty good fight. It pecked at the glass and made some unusual noises which I drowned out with an Enya CD.

Eventually its feathers caught fire. When I opened the oven door it ran out and caught my dog on fire. My word! What a time. I grabbed the turkey with a towel and threw it in the shower. I turned on the water and it drowned. I felt bad for a while....but I LOVE turkey, so I brought it back to the oven.

Anyway...what a time! Ha ha ha! I'll never do that again. From that day on all my turkey's have been dead, de-feathered and gibblet-less. However, I have since stuffed them all with candy corn.

"A RETURN TO NORMALCY"

2010-11-22T08:30:00.000-08:00

I don't often quote our 29th president, Warren G. Harding, but in this case I think it's appropriate.

My first blig in over three months indeed marks a return to normalcy. Although, when I say that, I don't hold my fist like I'm crushing a defenseless bee.

So, where the heck have I been? Unfortunately...gainfully employed on three different projects. One is now completed and I can again turn my attention to important matters...like bligging.

And what better way to return to bligging than bligging about our 29th president. Most people don't know a lot about Warren G. Harding. In fact, most 5th grade students have never even heard of him. In most textbooks he's simply referred to as 'Our 29th President'. In some textbooks in the San Francisco School District, he's simply referred to as 'That mean president.' Those same textbooks refer to President Taft as, 'Lard ass'.

Anyway, here are some things you may want to know about Warren G. Harding:

1. Harding began each morning by killing seven ferrets with his bare hands. While most of us might think that's a rather strange way to start the day, Harding explained that, "The regular killing of a ferret enlivens one's humors, reduces turbidity and has no to equal in the reduction of hand callouses. What's more, I enjoy it."

2. Harding detested the term 'baker's dozen' and lobbied congress heavily to have its use federally outlawed. Harding became so obsessed with this issue that it nearly paralyzed his presidency. In his memoirs, "Harding!" Harding wrote, "I think a dozen should be a dozen. 12 is 12. Are we so immutable and languid as to allow bakers to undo thousands of years of mathematical progress, not to mention the dumbification of untold children merely for the sake of ignominious hyperbole? Should we allow this aberration to stand, I see no reason why other trades won't insist on their own proclivities of numeration. We may have a Fisherman's Dozen which by my accounting would be 15! A Mason's dozen could reach the unwieldy valuation of 19. And a Pharmacists dozen could lead to innumerable abrasions of the eye."

3. An amateur botanist, Harding spent his later years trying to breed a geranium with a Siamese cat. He explained by insisting that, "This hybrid species would not only flower each spring, but purr as well. What's more it would be pleasing to the touch and could take its nourishment from the earth rather than the can." Harding claimed he had succeeded in breeding the strange hybrid and even displayed it at the 1923 meeting of the Chicago Botanical Society. Harding was rebuked however when it was discovered he had simply taken the head of a cat and stuck it onto a geranium stalk. Harding vehemently denied the charge, but later conceded after a dead, headless Siamese cat was discovered in his waistcoat. For years Harding insisted such a hybrid could be bred, "if it were not for the encumbrances of time and common sense."

BOARD MEETING REMINDER

2010-08-13T09:58:00.000-07:00

Just a reminder to everyone: we're going to have our Froynlaven board meeting tomorrow in the small conference room on the 2nd floor. (Across from that bigger room with those things on the door.)

I know it's Saturday, but I'd like us to get started at 8am sharp. We're going to have a presentation by our landscape chairman, Len Buttress, and I'd like everyone to be there. Len came by yesterday and gave me an overview and it was almost interesting.

Mrs. Yorgenson has also put together a subversive powerpoint presentation which we'll be showing after Len's.

Also, the maintenance people have informed me the restrooms will be closed for repair. So, I suggest everyone bring a jar or some other means of sanitary collection.

As always, Bridget has asked that we all pitch in and bring at least one side-dish. She's also asked me to remind everyone about Mrs. Layette's food allergies. So please don't bring anything that's been exposed to peanuts, eggs, bananas, greens, milk, wheat, meat from hoofed animals, air, felt, or poultry.

In order to help Bridget, would you all kindly respond with what you'll bring? That way, we won't duplicate and avoid the fight we had last month.

Billy Sawson has asked that we put 5 minutes on the agenda so he can show us that Abraham Lincoln superhero cartoon that he's worked so hard on. I think it's only fair that we support Billy in his efforts, so let's all try not to make fun of him like we did last time. (Ben? Mrs. Yorgenson?)

Also, I hate to mention this, but I'd ask everyone to try to shower before the meeting and use a good deodorant soap. (LifeBoy, Lava, Irish Spring, Dial, Zest) All these can be found at your local supermarket. Please avail yourself of these products.

I hope to conclude the meeting by 9pm. So, if anyone would like to go out afterwards, I think that would be nice. Kay Mamers has said that we're all welcome to come to her house. She'd like to remind everyone that her dogs bite if you look at them, so bring your special glasses.

Okay then, I'll see you all tomorrow.

OUCH!!!!

2010-07-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Kevin for sending this my way. Now, I finally know what I would do if I had a hammer...

A 4th Of July Referral...

2010-07-05T18:48:00.000-07:00

Thanks to LuminouSpecter for this...

JAMIE

2010-06-29T18:51:00.000-07:00

Way back in 1997, a polite, bright young man was on a brief break from his studies at Annapolis. That Annapolis. The Navy Annapolis.

This particular young man happened to be a big fan of all things animation. But...not just any animation...WARNER BROTHERS ANIMATION. I told you he was bright, right?

Jamie also happened to be my wife's younger cousin. She asked if I could do something special for him and so, I sorta did. He and his mom spent an afternoon watching one of Richard Stone's last scoring sessions for Freakazoid on the Warners lot. We had food in the commissary. We chatted animation. Bugs. Daffy. Wacko. Freakazoid.

That was many years ago.

Today, Jamie is on his second tour of duty in Afghanistan as a helicopter commander. His wife, three kids (with another one on the way) eagerly await his return.

Jamie is still a big fan of animation. I shipped him the 2nd season of Freakazoid all the way to Afghanistan last year.

I thought of Jamie today. I've heard the heat is close to 111 every day.

I thought of him because I'm struggling with another writing project. What should that character say? What should happen next? It's all soooo difficult. In air conditioned comfort. With my wife and daughter in the next room.

Reality check.

Anyway, please keep Jamie in your prayers. As well as Deanna Oliver's son, Colin.

Come back safe, guys.

THE BIGGEST THREAT TO THIS COUNTRY!!!!

2010-06-24T18:58:00.000-07:00

No, it's not that oil spill. Scientists and Nobel Prize winners are working on that. So, that's gonna work out okay. (Although, as a man who has seen more that his share of science fiction movies, I would be remiss if I didn't remind the President that in all of those movies, the scientists never get it right. They either go mad, or because of extreme idealism are killed by the creature they are trying to "understand."Watch Forbidden Planet if you don't believe me. Doc was lulled by science and almost ate it.

If there's anything these movies have proved is that you need a rugged individualist like James Arness to throw a wrench at it. Or a barrel. Or something else.

Anyway, that's not what I want to warn all America about today. The threat I am referring to is big. And secret. And if we aren't careful, it's going to destroy us all.

I am writing this blog from a secret location where we spend much of the summer. It's on the coast a few hours away from LA. Here, over the years, we have observed many people from different countries. For the most part, they have given us no reason to fear.

Well, that has all changed. FEAR! Do you hear me, Americans! Fear! And what should you fear? I'll tell you...

CAPRI PANTS...FOR MEN!!!!!

Yes, I've seen them. And, we need to stop it. I first saw this insidious horror while in Scotland a few years back. A man was wearing...not pants...not shorts...but something that came up to the ankles. I shuddered. This was wrong. These pants are exclusively reserved for Barbie. Or my daughter.

But on men, it is...I can't even explain. The horror. THE HORROR.

Upon leaving Scotland I thought I had left the site of those pants behind. But no. NO.

I have seen them this week...not once. Not twice. But MANY times. The men wearing these pants are NOT FROM HERE. No, they are from elsewhere. From other countries. Countries where, I suppose, they have given up. Thrown in the towel. Have not stood firm when someone suggests, "These are Capri Pants for men. Would you like to try them?"

I beg all men in America. Please, stand your ground. If a wife, salesman, census worker, et al... suggest you might look good in Capri Pants, know they are evil. Stand your ground. Resist. repeat this simple phrase...CAPRI PANTS FOR MEN ARE STUPID, VILE AND A THREAT TO MY WAY OF LIFE.

If you don't...

We are ruined.

CRYING UPDATE

2010-06-18T21:30:00.000-07:00

Yeah.

Today was the day. That song. With the kids. You know. A sea of 300 kids doing this song. I tried to be strong. I did. Ugh. I failed. Water came out my eyes.

My wife looked at me. I tried to hold it together. I didn't. She didn't either.

However...I was not alone. Most of the other parents were also sobbing wrecks.

Anyway. The school year is done.

Onward to summer.

BUT...

The beginning of the school year is a few months away they're gonna sing that song again.

I need to prepare...

I Know I'm Going To Cry

2010-06-15T18:35:00.000-07:00

Because it never fails. I cry. I keep it inside. But, still. I cry. Water escapes out my eyes. I can't help it. Anyway, in two days, I'm gonna cry.

My daughter's Catholic school has a tradition both at the beginning of the year and at the end of the year. There's a 'Start Of School Mass' and an 'End of School Mass.' At the end of each of these Masses, the entire student body sings a song while doing sign language.

So approximately 300 kids...1st grade to 8th grade...all sing this song. The first time I witnessed this I looked around and saw all these kids singing this song and doing sign language. Within moments, I was a utter lump of flesh unable to stand. My wife looked at me and wondered why water was coming out my eyes. I don't know. Sometimes...things just sorta hit ya. It was the earnestness. The utter innocence. Kids. Ya know? Good kids.

Well, this year I am prepared. I have special glasses that will prevent anyone from seeing that I am overcome with emotion. These glasses look like I've just had major eye surgery and am 80 years old and am a dangerous driver. But I don't care. I need these glasses.

I know that upon hearing this song sung and signed by the kids, I will melt. And if the glasses don't work, I have a plan "B". I will drop my keys on the floor and pretend to find them. (I cannot claim this move as my own. It's my dad's. Shortly after Vatican II, a part of the Mass had us all shake hands and exchange the sign of peace. My father hated that and would pretend to tie his shoes. Or, he would pretend he had an infectious disease. Or, he would simply say, "I hate you.")

Regardless, when the kids all sit in the pews and sing this song I will have the sniffles. So, here's plan "C". I plan to wear a shirt that says, "I Have Allergies And Am Not Overly Emotional".

Here's plan "D". When people hear me crying, I will tell them I am rehearsing for an audition. The role is for a monkey who is lost and recovering from heat rash. Very severe heat rash. A heat rash so nasty as to make the monkey cry a lot.

Anyway, it's a few days away. I'm already weeping just thinking about watching these kids sing, but I have special glasses so you can't tell. Ha ha.

So, here is the song they do. It's religious, so if you can't handle that, move on...

STILL TRYING TO BE INTERESTING

2010-06-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

And it's not always easy. Because sometimes nothing interesting happens to me. And sometimes I can't think of anything interesting to write.

However, not so this fine morn. Morn is short for morning. That's not particularly interesting or the interesting thing I'm going to write about, it's just something I thought you might like to know. You can use it if you want. You can say something like, "Boy, isn't this a fine morn?" And when someone asks you what you meant, you can refer them to this blog. Or you can tell them yourself if you're comfortable with the explanation. If you're not, you really shouldn't attempt it.

Anyway, here are some interesting things...

1. Jay Leno Sightings. Okay, so after I drop off my daughter at school at 7:45, I get on the 101 and head into Burbank to spend some time at Nickelodeon. As I get in the left lane to merge onto the 134, I have been next to, behind, in front of, or a few cars away from Jay Leno. Not once mind you, but this is approaching at least 20 times in the past two months. Mr. Leno is always in a different car. A fancy car or a sports car, or a classic car, or some other car that rich, car enthusiasts like to drive. I don't know what those are called, so, don't ask. From what I have seen, Mr. Leno is a fine driver, although he tends to speed right after the 134 turn off.

Anyway, I thought that was interesting. But, as this is the last week of school, I doubt I will see Mr. Leno again until September. So, there's a loss there for me. Not a big one. But a loss none the less. Anyway, that's interesting, right? Isn't it?

2. Lunch Meetings. Readers of this blog know how much I hate auditions. You may be interested to know that I hate lunch meetings even more. A lunch meeting is usually set up by my writing agent. At these lunch meetings I have lunch with someone I don't know who is supposedly interested in hiring me. Because I don't know the person, a great deal of time will always be taken up by trying to find them in the restaurant. I hate that part. The restaurants will always be incredibly trendy and called something like, Hama Hama, or Q's, or Sasafras, or 116, or Piche Piche. There will always be no parking and I'll have to use the valet. That means I'll have to clean out my car...because my car is always filled with junk and it's embarrassing when the valet opens my door and three empty bottles of orange Fanta fall out.

And then comes to the lunch. I will talk to this person I don't know and we will eat in front of each other while talking about stuff. I will want to eat all the bread and use all the butter, but won't because this is California and folks are afraid of bread and are suspicious of people that aren't. The waiter will always come over and tell us about the specials of the day. I'll pretend to listen and nod and say things like, "That sounds great." The waiter will usually end by saying the last dish is drizzled in a balsamic vinaigrette and covered in ground huntun seed.

Then we'll eat. My wife has told me that I don't really have a meal, I devour it in a manner akin to a scene from Quest For Fire. But, at these meetings, I am always careful to maintain my dignity. I'll try not to pick up the food with my fingers and shove it in my mouth. I'll try not to ask for ketchup. I'll try not to wipe my hands on my shirt. I'll try to be charming, interesting and not show that I'd like to be anywhere else.

I have told my agent that I don't want to go on any more lunch meetings. Unless it's at Chucky Cheese. That would be fun.

3. Press Conferences After Basketball Games Are Stupid. I'm sorry, but they are. What is there to say? Come on. Seriously. Well, usually here's what there is to say. "We need to control the ball." That's always a good one. "We need to play our game." That's always interesting. But perhaps my favorite is always, "They beat us."

OKAY. I'D WATCH THIS TV SHOW.

2010-06-10T14:41:00.000-07:00

A FROYNLAVEN INVESTIGATIVE REPORT - CANADA HATES ME

2010-06-03T08:55:00.000-07:00

A review of pictures from a family vacation in Whistler (in Canada which is another country. It's very clean but they say the word "couch" in an odd way) has proved shocking.

The above sentence wasn't written very well. So, I'm going to redo it without all the Canada stuff.

A review of pictures from a family vacation in Whistler has proved shocking.

My wife made reservation for us to all go zip-lining through the tall trees that Canada has a lot of.

I'm not a fan of heights, but she assured me it would be enjoyable. It was. Very.

But as I looked at the pictures of said zip-lining excursion, I discovered something horrifying. Canadians don't like me. I don't know why. I like them. Oh, they may say they like me. But, when the think nobody is looking, they don't like me.
They like my wife and daughter. But me? There is a general loathing.

Perhaps some of you think I'm being to sensitive. Ha! I have the proof.

Let's do this...

The following pictures are a series of shots as we each left a platform and zip-lined over a ravine of great depth. Let's see how much the Canadians like my wife, shall we?

Here she goes. Notice how everyone is concerned for her. They want her to make it to the other side.

Here she is! Flying over the raging torrent!

Next, it was my daughter's turn.

Ahh! All eyes are upon her as she begins her treacherous journey! You can almost hear the Canadians saying, "We like that girl! What a brave little girl!"

And brave she was! But she's not the one who is afraid of heights. That would be me.

Now, let's see what happens when it's my turn.

They can't even bear to look at me. You can almost hear them say, "Him? I hope the line breaks. We hate that guy! We turn our backs on you! PAUL!"

I don't understand where this deep hatred comes from. I'm a huge fan of maple products. I like most of the products Canada exports...like Rich Little.

Why?

WHY?

ANOTHER ENTRY

2010-06-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

SOMETHING NEW FOR YOUR EYES

2010-05-31T22:11:00.000-07:00

WHAT? WHAT? MORE? WHAT? MORE WHAT?

HUMBLED, HUMBLED ME!

PAUL

LUKE!!!!

2010-05-31T21:58:00.000-07:00

With many thanks to Takineko...

(Because she' is much smarter than I and can find these things...)

Here is Luke's entry...

Luke...YOU ARE HONORED GUESTS INDEED!

WHAT? THERE'S MORE? WHAT? KEEPER

2010-05-31T21:46:00.000-07:00

WELL,

KEEPER DID THIS....

I'M MORE THAN HUMBLED....

KEEPER! KEEPER! KEEPER!

WILL WONDERS NEVER CEASE!!!!!

2010-05-31T17:48:00.000-07:00

Two more entries to the...

"Please spare no expense in making a small video of you or your group doing something not even remotely entertaining, but with such enthusiasm and dancing happiness as too make us believe what you have done is amazing..."

CONTEST

Maz has entered the following. It is with great joy I show the following. And now...the following...

And this! From Alec D's Art! Here is it! Alec D's Art's entry! ALEC D'S ART!

I am humbled again.

Mine is coming.

Join me is saying, "A job well done! Let's take over the world!"

A MOMENTOUS...MOMENT!!!!!

2010-05-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

Takineko has proved herself worthy of all things due her!!!!!

It is with great delight that I present her entry into Froynlaven's video challenge...

I think this could be a winner. 1st place.

Here is it!

Here is the video that started it all...

Takineko....I am humbled....

DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME...OR ON STAGE

2010-05-26T10:01:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Tom Ruegger for combing through Youtube for this...well...I think it's some form of entertainment. I have watched it a few times. I think it proves well the old adage I don't quite remember. But it proves it.

If I were still doing Manny The Uncanny, I would steal this guy's act.

If you're still with me, I'd like to propose a little contest of sorts. YES. A FROYNLAVEN VIDEO CHALLENGE. I'll even do it, too.

Please spare no expense in making a small video of you or your group doing something not even remotely entertaining, but with such enthusiasm and dancing happiness as too make us believe what you have done is amazing. I will do it, too. (No knives, though.)

You can email me your link on youtube...or you may email it to me...or whatever you like. Let's say we have a week or something.

Keeper? Takineko?

Paul

PS, You can find the Froynlaven email directly to the right and above...

HOW TO WASTE TIME

2010-05-24T12:31:00.000-07:00

I have a 30 page script due in 9 days. This morning I started the script by typing, "FADE IN:" That was three hours ago.

Since then I have been deeply engaged in a website that tells you what TV stars you think are dead...aren't. James Arness is still with us.

This is James Arness.

And he's still with us. (In case I haven't made that clear.)

Now back to the script which is due in 9 days. It seems that I wrote more than "FADE IN:" this morning. I also wrote, "EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - MORNING. An imposing figure in silhouette."

I don't know why I didn't finish that sentence. "An imposing figure in silhoutte..." The imposing figure in silhouette should be doing something. I probably didn't write what the imposing figure in silhouette was doing because it would have been wrong and I would have to continue writing to get it right...and that, my friends...is why finding out what TV stars I think were dead...but aren't...became so important.

The not-dead TV stars website also linked me to the vitally important "What Names Famous Stars Were Born With."

Did you know, Alan Alda's real name is Alfonso Joseph D'Abruzzo?

This is Alan Alda.

He's not dead either.

The bottom line here is that the very first page in a script is the least pleasant. If I could skip over that page and move to page 19...that would be dandy. By page 19, there's no time to worry if it's all working, because a dealine. You gotta finish. But page one. That dreary, nasty, extremely temperamental page one is the hardest of pages. Each word is fraught with peril. It's a minefield of options...

On any other day I would never consider for a moment wanting to know who's alive that I think is dead. Only page one days like this cause my mind to seek refuge wherever I can. Sometimes, page one days...as this one is turning out to be...has caused me to scour YOUTUBE for videos of dogs doing stupid things. Hours. And hours.

Which, by the way, leads me to this video. Enjoy...

I'm not proud that I spent many hours finding this video. It's that damn page one thing!

Anyway, I better go. I need to figure out what the imposing figure in silhouette is going to do. Chances are the first 15 things won't be right.

I hate page one.

IN A SOVIET STATE OF POOH

2010-05-18T16:12:00.000-07:00

So, my delight of having seen Edward Hill's amazing rendition of TROLOLO, got me investigating other things that the Soviets did that I might like...besides making life in Cuba so horrible that my future wife would move to Burbank and I would meet her one day.

Such an investigation has led me to Winnie The Pooh. But...the Soviet version; Vinni Puh. I expected to find it was so terrible...so gloriously awful...that I would put it up for you to laugh at. However, I found I rather liked it...and, in fact...I think it's a little closer to what A.A. Milne was going for. (That's just me.)

Anyway, here you go. It even has English subtitles.

THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN!!!!

2010-05-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my buddy and screenwriter, Kevin Aldrich, I have received this gift of a lifetime. I'm glowing with happiness. You will, too.

IT'S JONATHAN HARRIS DAY

2010-05-04T08:34:00.000-07:00

Why? Because I came across the following clip on Youtube and it made me think fondly of the old guy.

I've mentioned before that when Freakazoid ended and we all went our separate ways, my phone would ring every so often and it would be Jonathan. He'd say something like, "How do you feel about lunch? Call McCann."

I'd call my co-producer on Freakazoid, John McCann, and we'd meet Jonathan at Mistral in Studio City. There, over a few chardonnays, Jonathan would hold court as only he could do.

So, today, on Jonathan Harris day, I'd like you to watch the following clip. You have to pretend you're in a darkened restaurant. You're eating a breadstick. You're sipping wine. You have to get back to work...but the stories the old guy is telling are just too good. Work can wait.

A master is at work...

FROYNLAVEN AWARDS

2010-05-03T09:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks for everyone's votes. I know it seems like we've been talking about this for months, but I've tallied everything and here are the results.

Again, thanks to everyone who contributed.

The Froynlaven awards go to:

1. Cecile B. Tiggit Of Hamilton Beach, California.

2. Dr. Vincent Noyman, Director Of Studies, UCHM, VDOC

3. Renny & Pam Welch

4. Ermice P. Ceepage

5. Sader Almapuper

6. (Tie) Clem Tugger & Vernald Loon

7. Mardi and Dendril Snevi

8. Bix Mayworth and his Bird, Chico

9. (Tie) Squint Balshort & Kep Lesang

10. Ida Gumma

Again, thanks everyone for helping out on this.

ERLAX

2010-04-29T08:46:00.000-07:00

Remember, when things get tough....when things are just too overwhelming...take a deep breath and erlax. Serious. Erlax, man. Sometimes you just gotta go in your room, shut the door, lay on the bed and erlax.

What? You don't know what "erlax" means? Seriously? Well, to be honest...me neither. But, I'll try to explain...

A few weeks ago my wife and I were killing time while my daughter was at a birthday party. We walked down the street and passed by Marshalls. Maybe you all don't have a Marshalls where you live. Maybe it's called something else. Maybe Grimelys. Or Huntelys. Or Pattersons. Or Zacks. Or...well...you get the idea.

Now, I had never been in a Marshalls. Inside are a bunch of things that other stores couldn't sell. They have clothes. Shoes. Things that used to be toys. They also have housewares and stuff. It was in the housewares section that I came across the find of a lifetime. Something so special and neat and yummy that I had to have it. It was only 6 dollars. 6 DOLLARS!

And my wife said, "no."

"No?" I replied. "It's only six dollars!"

"No," she said. "It'll only gather dust. I don't want a bunch of junk in the house."

"But, look at it!" I said. "That's the best thing I've ever seen! I can't just walk away from THAT! Look at it! Tell me it isn't the best thing you've ever seen! Tell me."

"I don't want it in the house. There's nowhere to put it."

"I'll put it in my office! There's plenty of room!"

"No. We just spent three months getting rid of stuff in there. You don't need anymore junk."

"Junk? JUNK? How can you possibly call that JUNK? That's one of the most wonderful things I'VE EVER SEEN! IT'S AWESOME! AND I NEED IT!"

"No. That's how your office got cluttered in the first place."

"It's only SIX DOLLARS! SIX DOLLARS!!!!!!!"

"Paul, someone has to stop you. This is one of those times. No."

I sighed deeply. Took out my phone and took a picture of it. If I couldn't have it, I'd at least be able to look at a picture of it from time to time and ponder what it would have been like to have it on my shelf. The find of a lifetime. The most perfect thing I've ever seen."

Anyway. Prepare yourself. Here it is...

It was made in China. Probably on a Friday. The factory worker glued the E and the R in the wrong places. No big deal. But what surprises me is that the folks at Marshalls put it out anyway. I mean, who would want to buy something like this?

ME.

So, if you happen to be at the Marshalls in Encino and it's still there...buy it. I'll pay you back.

Just don't tell my wife.

ALIVE? PERHAPS...

2010-04-28T08:33:00.000-07:00

I am shamed by pal John McCann's ability to blog through thick and thin...through skin cancer surgery and other bits of life. He is a true blogger. I am unworthy to stand in his shadow. But I will because he's taller.

So, I've been working on the pilot and trying to get it right. It's been fun but I also forgot what it was like to be gainfully employed. People expect things of you. You have to go places and have ideas. You have to shave. You have to eat a good breakfast. (Because, if I haven't made it clear, people expect things from you and you want to be sharp and alert and be able to say, "Yes, Fred. Let's go with that drawing. I'm alert and I think that's a good choice.) You have to sit at a desk. You have to pass people in the hallway and pretend to make eye contact. You have to not randomly shout out, "I want marbles!" (And if you do, you better have a good reason why you want marbles because there will be forms to fill out and the purchasing department will want to know size, shape and approximate amount. And color.) See, I can shout out, "I want marbles" all day long in my own home and no one will want to know why. That's because no one is here most of the day except the dogs and they have no idea what marbles are. And if they did, I surely wouldn't need a job because any dog that knows what marbles are could be sold to a research lab for hundreds of thousands of dollars. I could then live off that money and blog and do my silly skits and stuff. Sure, I'd miss the dog, but I'm sure they'd be nice to him.

The paragraph above is way too big.

Anyway, I think I should catch up with a lot of the stuff that's been going on with me since my last post.

1. I developed a new kind of wheat-less muffin which can be grown from a seed. I sold the technology to the Archer Daniels Midland company and they are now forcing farmers to grow it.

2. I am writing a play about what I think it would have been like had Minnie Riperton been trapped in an elevator with John Madden.

3. A month ago I started reading all 1362 pages of the healthcare bill. I'm still on the first paragraph.

4. I built a miniature city out of cork.

5. We hired a pest control company to capture a monkey that's been gnawing through the drywall in the basement. His name is "Nubs" and I have no idea how he got in there. Sometimes, late at night, I hear him going through my box of Christmas lights. We tried to shoot him a while ago, but since we don't have a gun, we couldn't get him.

6. I have taken to wearing a man girdle.

7. I thought it would be fun to hear all the elements of the periodic table sung to the tune of the Animaniacs theme-song, but I've been informed it's been done. (Sorry, Keeper.).

Anyway, that's what's up. I'm off now to pretend to make eye contact with people.

Paul

ONLY IN HOLLYWOOD

2010-03-08T17:48:00.000-08:00

Or...

A small suburb 20 minutes away.

We were watching the Academy Awards last night and when the award for best Cinematography was given out, something odd happened.

My wife and I looked at each other. "Why, that's our neighbor!"

"No. Can't be."

"Yeah! I'm telling you!"

"Wait. Here he comes up to the podium."

'THAT'S OUR NEIGHBOR!!!"

Yep. Turns out, the guy that lives two doors down won for best cinematography for Avatar. Go fig. We've waved a couple of times, but that's about it. His trash barrels look a lot like ours. However, now when I see his trash barrels, I will see the barrels of someone who has won an Academy Award.

Those are some amazing barrels.

I'M SUPER EXCITED TO SEE THIS!!!!!!!

2010-03-01T12:29:00.000-08:00

WHEN IN SCOTLAND...

2010-02-16T08:47:00.000-08:00

A few summers ago I was lucky enough to take the family with me for a month to Edinburgh, Scotland. I was performing in Henson's Puppet Up at the Fringe Festival. We did two shows a day, six days a week. There wasn't always a lot of time to explore and do fun, touristy kind of things.

We crammed as much sightseeing we could into that one day off a week. The castle. The countryside. Museums.

But the one thing we really hadn't experienced was traditional Scottish food. So, with one day off left, my wife, daughter and I piled into a cab in search of something unique to eat.

In his thick brogue, the cab driver asked us where we wanted to go. (On a side-note, every time we got in a cab in Edinburgh and the driver asked us where we wanted to go, my daughter would loudly ask, "What's that man saying? I can't understand him!") Anyway, we told the driver to take us to someplace where the locals go for dinner.

The driver quickly began maneuvering the taxi through the narrow streets of Old Town. He was going fast. He knew just the place! We made our way up steep inclines, back down through even more narrow streets. We were deep within a part of Edinburgh that the tourists never see. It was mysterious. Magical. Dark. Old. Creepy. Old. It was as if our taxi was taking us back through time. The roads got narrower. The cobblestone more decayed. We drove on. And on. And suddenly we were there. At...

The Olive Garden.

The driver said the pasta was pretty good.

Keeper Continues To AMAZE!!!!

2010-02-15T19:07:00.000-08:00

PANT, CHUBBY BOY, PANT!

2010-02-09T19:27:00.000-08:00

A LITTLE PAINT, A LITTLE SWEEP AND AN LED TV

2010-02-02T12:30:00.000-08:00

Froynlaven readers will be happy to know that I have successfully completed my mission. I now have a clean office, fresh paint, and...as my wife promised, a dandy new TV. Dandy, indeed. Super dandy. HI-def dandy. Low power consumption led TV dandy.

I was given the go-ahead to make the TV purchase last Thursday. I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story. My heart began pounding as I approached the sales clerk and pointed out what I wanted. I rushed my words together excitedly. "I want that Samsung Series 7 backlit LED TV with a blue ray player that plays things!!"

My wife and daughter were waiting by the door when I got home. "Did you get it dad?"

"No," I replied. "I changed my mind." Her heart sunk. Then, 'OF COURSE I GOT IT!!!!!"

My wife suggested we all have dinner and then I could set it up later.

Wives no nothing of the need to watch something hi-def as soon as possible. Dinner was the fastest in recorded history.

I ran into my office and threw open the box. The TV was sleek and shiny and black. And, I knew, it would never work. Ever. Because...I'm cursed with electronics. This curse has come to be known as, THE MR. RUGG.

A little back story on the curse. Every electronic purchase I have made since the age of 19 has had something wrong with it. Stereos with bizarre hissing. Tape recorders with busted microphones. Phones with missing cords. All new. All in the box. All defective. All mine. I would take them back to the various stores and hear..."I'm sorry Mr. Rugg."

The curse got so bad that I would purposely never get the first box on the shelf...but the one in back. That never worked, either. Everything was always broken.

Which is why...when I opened the box for my new 40 inch TV...I expected to see broken bits of glass, a dead rat and chewed plastic. I would be forced to return it to the store and hear, "I'm sorry Mr. Rugg. That was the last one. You will have to wait the rest of your life while we order a new one."

But, to my surprise, nothing was broken. I assembled the stand and plugged it in. I waiting for smoke to start spewing from the speakers. I waited for the TV to explode. I waited for...at the very least...something not to work. Perhaps a software malfunction that caused everything to look Portuguese.

BUT, to my surprise. It all worked. The folks at Samsung have restored my faith in electronic things that come in boxes.

The first thing we all watched was the blue ray edition of my favorite film of all time: 2001.

It's was awe inspiring. In fact, the scene in the moon bus as they're on the way to the Tycho monolith looked like it was live video. Happy. Happy me. The ending still made no sense, but now it made no sense in HI-DEF!

We've watched UP and THE INCREDIBLE MR. LIMPET. UP was breathtaking. Unfortunately no amount of HI-DEF can help The Incredible Mr. Limpet. However, my daughter thought it was the best thing she's ever seen. I'm keeping that in mind when we start picking out colleges for her.

Anyway, the last TV we bought was 16 years ago. So, judging by that, I can't wait to see what my next TV will be like when I get it in 2026.

A Guy Named Joe

2010-01-26T08:42:00.000-08:00

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

PS...Not for the faint of heart!

I LOVE THIS MAN!!!!!

2010-01-19T17:46:00.000-08:00

A CARD FROM THE PAST!

2010-01-15T08:43:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-13T19:24:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-12T09:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-07T14:33:00.000-08:00

And Now...

2010-01-06T11:59:00.000-08:00

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!

Two Gopher Brothers In A Van...

2009-12-18T08:30:00.000-08:00

Just got the word that the project I did with Brian Henson in November is going to make its debut on PBS KIDS GO on January 11th.

However, there's a preview site up now. It's right here.

We used the HDPS system and had a lot of fun. I'm Ditch...the gopher in the green shirt. Brian Henson is Wilson.

Okay then...

Got a deadline today for two projects after which I shall blog and have an award for Keeper and generally catch up.

Tuesday, December 15th - 10am PST

2009-12-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

A doctors appointment? A visit with a tax attorney? No. No. No. No...

Tuesday, December 15th at approximately 10AM PST something super cool is going to happen. The first flight of the Boeing 787 aircraft. Better known as the Dreamliner.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Paul! You haven't blogged in over two weeks! No explanation! No nothing! And now, you show up all high and mighty and wanna talk about a jet!?"

In my defense I've been super busy. I have three projects all due this Friday. Yes. It's true. I've been slaving away for weeks. My family hasn't seen me. (I'm here in the house, they just can't find me. My dogs haven't eaten. I haven't slept in over 3 weeks. All so I can put food on the table and see a smile on my daughter's face on Christmas. No, it's not much. Just a sock with cotton in it. I've painted a face on it. But it's all I can afford. The economy...you know.) So fine. Be cruel to me. Yell and scream! Hate me! HATE ME! I'm doing the best I can.

I just thought I'd point out that tomorrow will change the way we all fly. But fine. Be that way. Don't care that the 787 is made mostly of carbon composites which are lighter and require less fuel. Fine. I guess you don't like our planet. I hope you're happy when we all get warmer!

Anyway. I'm sorry. I'm tired. But tomorrow I'd like you to pause at 10am PST and think about this super neato airplane. Better yet...go to this website...

You can watch the whole flight live.

And if you don't want to...can you at least do it for America? Or are you too busy what with Christmas and all of that.

What if Abe Lincoln was too busy with Christmas and all of that to do important Lincoln stuff that Lincoln scholars think was super important?

Do me proud. Watch this...

I love all of you more than you deserve.

Paul

PS. There's a certain someone in Germany who asked for something a while back. I haven't forgotten.

Bloggidy Blog Blog

2009-11-30T11:03:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know. I haven't been hear in a while. But I have a very good excuse. I do.

My dog ate my computer. He did! I woke up and there he was eating the computer. I was sooo mad at him. I said, "Bad dog! Now I can't blog! Bad, bad dog! You BAD dog!"

He then lunged at me at tore into my neck! He ruptured one of those important arteries that are important.

I staggered backwards and fell off the back porch balcony. I passed out. While passed out the gardeners (who I am soooo mad at) came to mow the lawn. They didn't even try to help me! They mowed over my hand and caused my typing fingers to become detached from where they normally are. I awoke to see my dog eating them. I was sooo mad!

I said, "Bad dog! Bad, bad dog! Daddy needs those to blog!!!!"

I chased him across the yard to get my fingers back and hit my head on a tree branch and punctured my eyes . I stomped around in a blind rage! "I can't blog without eyes, fingers or a computer! I am soooo mad!"

I stumbled into a deep crevasse and fell hundreds of feet into a goblin town. There I was held prisoner and given only mineral water and Ak Mak to eat for 18 days.

The head goblin, Kipsy, was rude and cussed quite a bit.

Finally, a kindly goblin named Thweel, gave me a map and a key to escape. When I finally got out I was in China! I had fallen so far into the crevasse that I had gone almost clear through the earth.

Once in China, XinXin, a friendly farmer, gave me a salve made from ginger root that cured my punctured eyes and grew my fingers back.

My wife wired me the money for a flight home. When I arrived back home, my dog had felt sooo bad about being a bad, bad, dog that he bought me a new computer with money from his commercial work for Alpo.

Anyway, long story short...

I'm fine now.

Paul

ALIVE. SWOLLEN HAND.

2009-11-17T20:45:00.000-08:00

Okay.

Been gone.

Been doing puppety things for cool new show at Henson on HDPS system.

Long days.

Had fun.

Hand sorta swollen.

Going to sleep now.

Will be more coherent soon.

Bye.

Paul

GOT MY COSTUME

2009-10-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

JUST A LITTLE MORE HALLOWEEN HELP

2009-10-27T09:53:00.000-07:00

Yikes! So close to our halloween office party and I'm still not sure what do go as. Thanks for some of your suggestions, but I'm still torn. I've gone ahead and used photoshop to put my head in the following costumes. Lemme know. Time is running out!

HALLOWEEN HELP!!!!

2009-10-26T11:45:00.000-07:00

This happens every year! I did it again. Here it is the week before Halloween and I don't have my costume for our office party. Anyway...listen...if ya'll wouldn't mind...take a look at the following costumes and let me know which one you like best. I've narrowed it down to my favorites.

"Hello, Ladies And Gentlemen, This Is The Captain And..."

2009-10-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

"Unfortunately, I've been arguing with co-pilot for the last hour and...well...the funny thing is...ha ha ha...we're 200 miles from where we're supposed to be. But we're going to turn around now and go back. So sit back, relax and enjoy some of the fine food we don't carry on board anymore."

Okay, Froynlaven readers. So, yesterday's blog about the balloon boy was a bit of a bummer. That won't happen again. Only happiness and joy here. Which is why I'm pleased as punch to talk about another true story that will make you smile and never fly again.

This happened just a few days ago. And here it is: A Northwest Airlines jet was flying from San Diego to Minneapolis. I'm not a geography expert but Minneapolis is somewhere in the middle of the country but higher up towards Canada...or Russia. I'll find out. I know it's not near Florida.

Anyway, it seems as the jet approached Minneapolis, the air traffic controllers tried to call them on the radio to tell them important information like..."Hi. This is Minneapolis. We're down here. You should land...especially since this is where you're supposed to be."

But, it turns out. The pilots didn't respond. It continued to fly over Minneapolis at 37,000 feet. The air traffic controllers kinda get nervous when stuff like that happens. So they contacted the air force and put fighter jets on stand by in case there was a problem. Like a hijacking or something. You know. That sort of thing.

Well...a long time went by. And air traffic control suddenly got a call from the Northwest Plane. Seems they had been busy and totally forgot where they were going. The plane turned around and landed. An hour late. But mistakes happen. The pilots said they had been having a heated discussion and totally lost track of time....AND...where they were. Again. This is totally understandable.

I have a friend who works at the NTSB and he's managed to get me the audio recording of the cockpit voice recorder. Here it is...

CAPTAIN: "You're an idiot, Frank. Superman is indestructible. Got it?"

CO-PILOT: "Batman could do it!"

CAPTAIN: "Get your head out of your butt! How? How could Batman hurt Superman? Seriously. How?"

CO-PILOT: "Well, I'm not exactly sure. But he's got all that stuff. He's way smarter than Superman. So he'd come up with a plan."

CAPTAIN: " A PLAN?!!! See! That's what I'm saying! You're not telling me anything. A plan! HOW? WHAT'S THE PLAN! Think it through! You can't! And you know why? BECAUSE HE COULDN'T DO IT!

CO-PILOT: "No. No. He could do it. It would be a trap or something."

CAPTAIN: "Are you listening to yourself, Phil? Are you? Are you seriously listening to yourself. Because I am. And all I'm hearing is a bunch of crap! How the hell is Batman gonna beat Superman?"

CO-PILOT: "Okay. Fine. Kryptonite. He'd put it in a little box and and spring it on Superman at the last minute."

CAPTAIN: "Kryptonite. Again with the Kryptonite! I told you, Phil. No Kryptonite. This is theoretical. I said, how could Batman hurt Superman WITHOUT KRYPTONITE. That's how we started this whole thing. I said NO KRYPTONITE.

CO-PILOT: "You did?"

CAPTAIN: "I did."

CO-PILOT: "I didn't hear that."

CAPTAIN: "Obviously. So. Without Kryptonite, how the hell is Batman gonna hurt Superman?"

CO-PILOT: A trap."

CAPTAIN: "YOU'RE SAYING TRAP AGAIN BUT YOUR NOT TELLING ME HOW HE..."

[Cockpit door opens.]

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "Excuse me, Captain. One of the passengers said we flew over Minneapolis an hour ago."

CAPTAIN: "Really?"

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "I think so."

CAPTAIN: "Hmmm. That's not gonna look good."

CO-PILOT: "Go tell him he's mistaken."

CAPTAIN: "Good idea."

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "I tried that already. But he says he's the mayor and he knows what it looks like."

CAPTAIN: "Shoot. Okay. Uhm. I know. Okay. Tell the passengers we flew through an interdimensionary time warp."

CO-PILOT: "That's how Batman would do it."

CAPTAIN: "Do what?"

CO-PILOT: Trap Superman. An interdimensionary time warp."

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "We should probably turn around."

CAPTAIN: "How is Batman gonna create a time warp?"

CO-PILOT: He doesn't have to. Alfred would do it.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "Because we're almost in Michigan. And we're supposed to go to Minneapolis. And that's where the passengers kinda planned on going."

CAPTAIN: "But Alfred would have to be super smart to think of something like that."

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "We're out of peanuts, too."

CO-PILOT: "He is super smart!"

CAPTAIN: "Yeah. Well, Phil. You got me."

CO-PILOT: "HAAA! YES!"

FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "I think I see Canada."

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE

2009-10-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

And what I refuse to believe is all of this stuff about the Balloon Boy. I'm not going there. It's too painful. Here's what I've decided to believe because it's so much better my way. Don't try to talk me out of it. I'm not budging on this. So here goes...

I'm choosing to believe that there is this totally cool family who chase storms and stuff. The super cool dad is a crazy scientist who builds all sorts of contraptions. His kids are way into all that stuff. So is the mom who's also super cool.

I'm choosing to believe that he built a space ship balloon because he likes to invent stuff. I'm choosing to believe his youngest boy accidentally let it loose and was sooooo upset about what he had done that he hid in the attic.

I'm choosing to believe all that because it's so American and cool and old fashioned and fits in perfectly with 200 years of crazy folks who have made this country what it is...was.... or something. I'm choosing to believe this because it's so much better than the painful truth: That somebody wanted to be so famous and on a reality TV show that they put the country through 2 hours of collective hell.

I''ve said it before and I'll say it again. Paddy Chayefsky was a prophet. Watch the movie NETWORK. That's your homework.

Five years ago we yanked the cable in disgust. It's been fine.

I don't know who anyone is anymore. But that's fine, too.

Anyway, no matter what you hear about the whole Balloon Boy thing. Don't tell me. I'm gonna believe it my way.

CHESTER PHELP GUEST BLOG

2009-10-21T10:18:00.000-07:00

I'm sorta busy today but Chester Phelph said he'd blog for me. Thanks, Chester!

A BLOG ABOUT THE TIME THIS ONE THING HAPPENED AND I'M GOING TO BLOG ABOUT IT

2009-10-20T11:29:00.000-07:00

I think it was Winston Churchill who once said something. And he was right! Something similar happened to me in Melbourne a few years back when I was performing at the Comedy Festival in the Henson Company's Puppet Up. None of that is really important, but it makes me sound as if I've done interesting things. That also isn't important, but I'm feeling fragile today and like reading that I've been to Melbourne. This also isn't important. Frankly, the only things you really need to take from this paragraph are the following:

1. That Winston Churchill said something.

2. What he said is similar to something that happened to me.

3. It was at a Chinese restaurant.

Paragraph Nazis will no doubt point out that I never mentioned anything about a Chinese restaurant in the first paragraph and therefor can't be included in a summation of important points to remember about the paragraph. Ha! I was utilizing the French literary technique known as Pète trop nombreuses. It's super French and used by people who quote Churchill.

Anyway, there we were sitting in the Chinese restaurant. They had chairs so this was easily accomplished. I excused myself and asked where the restroom was. (By the way, in Australia they don't call it the restroom. They call it the toilet. However, I could never bring myself to ask where the toilet was. It just seems so. You know. Restroom sounds so much better and clean and not so poopy. Restroom sounds like a place where I could potentially go to rest and freshen my face with a towel.)

Once inside the restroom...for that is what I will call it...I came face to face with the oldest air-blown hand dryer in the entire world. In fact, this could have been the very first one. I'm sure of it.

I'm sure of it because of the instructions. And, as nearly as I can recall, here they are.

This is the Dyna-Dry 5200. Do not be worried or leave. This device will make your hands devoid of moisture by using air and hot heat. Do not be alarmed by the sound of air or the hot heat. This is normal. Use the device to dry your hands ONLY. Drying anything else that is damp is potentially dangerous and embarrassing. To activate the Dyna-Dry 5200 place your feet on the rubber grounding pad. Failure to ground your feet properly could lead to death. Detach all metal such as rings, watches and bracelets from your person before proceeding. Make sure your hands are sufficiently moist before using the Dyna-Dry 5200. Hands not sufficiently moist could be burned. Horribly. Use the attached safety goggles before activating the Dyna-Dry 5200. Failure to use the safety goggles could lead to eyeball discomfort such as blurred visions, blindness or retinal melting. Wear the lead vest (not provided at all locations) over your chest by binding the cross strap at the nexus between your abdomen and clavicle. Now you're ready to experience the finest in hand drying without a towel. Note the two large buttons at the top of the Dyna-Dry 5200. The large green button in labeled START. The orange button is labeled SUMMON HELP. While using the Dyna-Dry 5200, it is wise to keep at least one finger within pushing distance of the SUMMON HELP button. If, during the drying process, you feel extreme discomfort and are unable to press the SUMMON HELP button, simply drop to your knees, grab the thermal blanket and begin the roll-over maneuver. Once the fire is out, simply crawl out of the room while keeping your head away from the smoke. Enjoy the Dyna-5200. Another quality product from the Perth Munitions Company.

So, there it is. Churchill was right.

APPSAPLEPSIA

2009-10-19T09:29:00.000-07:00

4TH GRADE SOCIAL STUDIES REVIEW NOTES

2009-10-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

Apologies to readers of my blog. I'm afraid it's been hijacked for today. My daughter is responsible for providing the Social Studies test notes for her study group and, since she doesn't have an email, this is the only way for the other kids to get the info. It's someone else's job next week, so we shouldn't have to ever do this again.

Sorry...

4TH GRAIDE STUDIE NOTES FOR TEST ON SOCIAL STUDIES CHAPTER 5 - 6

1. ARCHEOLOGISTS - Okay, so like these guys like, dig stuff up and it's mostly really old because the people that used them were super old dead people and the archeologists can find out about how the dead people lived because they get paid to do that. An example of something the dead people used is a rock with a chip in it. This was used, to like, saw the meats off of an animal and then get eaten or worn like a coat.

2. THE GIGNER-BOSE SCALE - Okay, so like there was this guy Mr. Gigner and he got together with his friend Mr. Bose and they came up with this idea which basically is a way to do things which helps us today to understand that kind of stuff because before people used to have to do that sort of thing differently or even figure it out in their heads or just guess. But now, no.

3. TRIBE - Okay like, a tribe is a group of people who all like the same sorta thing and they kill other people who don't. An example of this would be two groups.

4. PLAINS - Like, these are really boring flat places where buffalo and native Americans used to live but now they don't because Europeans ruined everything and should have stayed in Europe with other Europeans.

5. STRAIT - See, like a long time ago there was this strait which is sorta like a bridge kinda things and people walked on it from Chinese all the way to America. But it's gone now because of global warming, oil companies and long time ago humans.

6. CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS - This totally evil guy who ruined everything because he only thought of himself and not others and was totally evil and who made it so that ever since he came things here have really gone down hill and he should have stayed in Europe and been like, a shoe maker or something like that. He killed a lot of people.

7. NORTH AMERICA - A place that used to be a good place to live back when there weren't any people living here.

8. CARTOGRAPHER - So, like these people make coffee in an old fashioned way which includes sticks.

9. CALIFORNIA - The largest place on the west coast. Europeans stole it from Mexico by doing a trick with bears and that's unfair. California has many things including dirt, celery, wine and artisenal bread.

10. THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS - Big mountains that are huge and enormous and rocky and somewhere in America. Over time global warming will make them explode and kill all young children no matter where they live. This could happen in like, five years unless humans stop having gas.

11. PUBLIC OPTION - Only mean people who want everyone to die don't like this. It is a good idea and makes good sense for all sorts of reasons. It is totally fair to kick people who feel this way.

ESSAY QUESTION (BE PREPARED TO ANSWER THE FOLLOWING)

A. How will human beings eventually cause the sky to catch on fire and kill all young children no matter where they live?

AIR FORCE ONE AND ME

2009-10-13T09:13:00.000-07:00

We've established...I think...that I'm sort of an aviation junkie. If I haven't then I'll correct that right now.

I'm an aviation junkie.

I think we've also established that I'm afraid to fly. If I haven't I'll also correct that right now.

I'm afraid to fly.

Which is why Saturday night was super neato. I got to go into a really spiffy jet which was not going to go up into the sky where spooky, icky, scary things are. For once I could enjoy being in a jet and not ask for someone to knock me out.

The jet was Air Force One which is on permanent display at the Ronald Reagan Library in Simi Valley. It was Ronald Reagan's Air Force One which is why it's at the Reagan Library and not at the Clinton Library. I'm not sure if Bill Clinton has a library. Maybe someone could look it up. I'd do it, but with things being so busy and crazy right now, I just don't have the time. Sure I could have googled it in the time it took to type this sentence. But I have something more important to do.

And that important something is to show you this picture...

This is a picture of my wife and I as we entered Air Force One. Actually, that's not my wife's head. She has requested to remain anonymous so I have replaced her with Herve Villechaiz.

You probably can't tell, but I'm super excited to go into Air Force One. I love jets. We've established that. We have, right?

I don't normally go around in a suit but we were at the Reagan Library for a fundraising dinner for the Pregnancy Counseling Center of Mission Hills. (Which is a super cool organization that helps women in crisis pregnancies to keep their babies by providing all sorts of great resources.)

Anyway, guests of this fundraiser got to walk around the library for free before dinner. Part of that walk included Air Force One. In my case, I ran. I ran to Air Force One. My wife said to slow down. But I didn't. Cuz I like planes. We've established that. Read the first sentence.

There also happened to be another event that night. I don't know what it was...but the people at that event were super important. More important than us. My wife and I were mistaken for those more important people. Perhaps it was my blue tie. I don't know.

Once inside Air Force One, and mistaken for these more important people, we were then invited to sit in the cockpit. I was all gooey and said something like, "Really? We can? Wow. Seriously?" I think I started to cry. Which leads to my second picture

I'm in the captain seat. My wife is in the co-pilot's seat. Again, that's not my wife's head. I've replaced it with Herve Villechaize because she doesn't want her picture on the web thing.

I wanted to sit in the cockpit forever, press all the buttons and make engine noises. I would have unless we didn't had to go to the dinner. In fact, I think I told my wife to go to the dinner and come back when it was over. She didn't like this idea. Before we left the cockpit I kissed the wheely thing.

As we made our way through Air Force One, we were treated better than other people. Because, if I haven't made this clear, we were mistaken for being important people from the other event.

Now, I've done this tour before. It's a great tour. But there are few velvet ropes keeping you from stepping into certain rooms. Like the cockpit. And...Reagan's personal office. However, as we approached that section of the plane, the rope was removed and I was bid welcome to sit in President Reagan's chair at his desk. Which leads me to the last photo.

This is me. I put Herve Villechaize's head there just because.

This is where Ronald Reagan sat and did Ronald Reagan things. And had my wife and I not been mistaken for being more important than we are, I never would have gotten that chance to sit here.

So, if you ever go to the Reagan Museum and want to sit in the cockpit, wear a suit and a tie and look like you're important. Don't bring Herve Villechaaize because he's dead and that would be awkward.

Let's Catch Up...

2009-10-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

So, here I promised to Blog a lot when summer ended and I blew it! I blew it! No other way to put it. Well, there is...but I'm not going to.

Firstly...I think Keeper's Musical Challenge was AMAZING. So, I don't care what anyone else says...he wins the prizes. And something else. I'll tell you next week what that is. (They're handing out Nobel Prizes like candy these days, so maybe I'll get him one of those.)

But enough of anything remotely political. This is a happy place.

Anyway, my plans to blog were obliterated by a script assignment which I just finished. There's also a pilot I sold along with a friend to "another network". Been working on that all summer and I hope to be able to say yummy things about it in November. I think you'd like it.

Starting Monday however, I'll go back to the old ways of blogging. We'll have music and video and prizes and clowns and other things.

Okay then...

Monday. Prizes. Clowns. Music. Video. And a poem from my dog, Lucky. Also we'll speak some Spanish. We'll learn how to cook some Cuban meals. We'll check in with Chuck Melville and see what's coming up at 11...

IT'S MONDAY AND SO...

2009-10-05T06:05:00.001-07:00

Time to check out Keeper's response to the latest musical challenge!

FINALLY! FINALLY! A CHALLENGE FOR KEEPER!!!!

2009-09-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

This man is Keeper.

I have waited MONTHS to write this. MONTHS! Do you hear me? MONTHS!

Thanks to someone in Germany who is the FIRST...let me repeat...the FIRST person to email me with a musical stumper for Keeper.

For those of you new to this blog, Keeper has agreed submit to musical challenges submitted by Froynlaven readers. But none of you ever submitted anything. I don't know why. I couldn't have made it easier. To the right you'll see an email where to send said challenges. It has never been used. Ever. By no one.

THAT IS...until this week. I got an email from someone in Germany. Yes. Germany. I guess they care over there. So thank you, Germany. All of you. (Or at least one of you.)

So here's Keeper's Musical Challenge. It's a doosy. And I'm giving Keeper until Monday, October 5th. If Keeper succeeds in the challenge (as voted by Froynlaven readers) he will receive a slightly-used copy of Nancy Drew Mad Libs.

So, Keeper. Here it is the challenge submitted from Germany:

You are to sing the themesong to Animamiacs in as many different languages as possible. I don't mean you have to sing the themesong many different times. No. You are to sing the themesong once while incorporating as many different languages as possible. Perhaps the first verse in Dutch. The second in Spanish. You get the idea.

Now, I realize this is hard. But you are Keeper and we are not. Upon successful completion of said task...I am prepared to sweeten the deal with these incredible prizes:

This never eaten York Peppermint Patty.

And this...

Key ring I found in our dry, dead grass.

So, there it is Keeper. We look forward to hearing from you...

The Lost Poems Of Maya Angelou

2009-09-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

I can't get enough of poetry. Man, oh man! I love it! I do! I love poetry so much I wish I could marry it. But I'm already married. I love poetry so much I wish I could buy it a steak dinner. Poetry is so wordy and stuff like that. I love stuff like that. (Which is why I love poetry.)

I love poetry so much I wish I could go to Disneyland with it and ride the Matterhorn. We'd scream and laugh and then stand in line for another ride. Me and poetry. After a long day of fun, we'd drive back home. Poetry would fall asleep in the car while holding the balloon I bought it.

WHICH IS WHY...

I'm so happy I found a small book in my backyard as I was not watering. We're not allowed to water here in Southern California because we're in a drought. We're allowed to play with the hose and stuff, we just can't turn it on. It's fun to hear the dead grass crunch under your feet.

So there I was, not watering and crunching dead grass, when I spotted a small journal. I don't know how long it's been there, but it must have been years. The grass was too green and lush and alive for me to see it. But not anymore. Thank goodness for crunchy, dead grass!

The book was dirty. I don't mean dirty as in naughty. I mean it had dirt on it. And dead grass.

I opened it up and to my surprise it said, "Property of Maya Angelou." (I don't mean that the book spoke those words. It was written there.)

Inside were a bunch of hand-written poems. I don't know how many Maya Angelous there are out there. But I think these were written by THE Maya Angelou. I can't prove it. I'm just saying...

So, I read a few of the poems and thought I'd share some of them with you. Here they are. See if you can spot a theme...

THE ROAD

Weeping mournfully I uttered nothing

Lips pursed in quiet silence trickled

The man in the hat

Greeting muted passings on the long long road

Meaning

Running clippingly as fresh baked yams mocked gleefully

Meaning

Strong were the words of solitude

Anger at their mention

Hatred like a doo doo.

Meaning

INTO NOTHING

Corn knows no other way

It cannot grab with fleshy paws

It cannot sing the song of the perennial

Corn knows no other way

Corn knows no other

Corn knows no

Corn knows

Corn

Cor

Doo doo

HELVECTOR ENVONSO

June bug, crackerteeth and crow

Why?

He devised his own

Out of his own

June bug!

The long shadows weeping iridescent globules while their own voices shattered and rambled but un-noisily, un-willingly, un-applogetically, un-to and un-der the OTHERS who themselves sat lazily and doo doo.