Kitty Carlisle
Henry Morgan
Bill Cullen
Arlene Francis
hosted by Gary Moore

Yes, everything, except for passing gas. In that case the family pet should immediately be blamed; if no pet, then the youngest child, and working up to your spouse. It's never too early to say,"Eeeeew . . . did something just die in here." Never back down.

The Immortal.

Only from the first two, three seasons though. Final season stunk it up for writing.

Also, get rid of Richy as he never added squat, and make sure Vandernoot comes back as Duncan's squeeze.

Best written drama/fantasy in the last several years.

Otherwise: "I saw NU . . Think!"

I second the Maine Coon. They'll walk on a lease, are abou the size of a cocker spaniel and come in a variety of flavors.

Albert Broccoli

Angus Scrimm

Real Name "Mario Moreno" beloved Mexican actor=

My favorite running commercial stars a dog, a mid-size terrier mix--dog breed afficiadados correct me please. It's for an insurance company, Travelers I think. Anyway, a blues tune plays in the background, with lyrics that revolve around the words, "trouble" and "worry".

The dog has a bone, a bone that is very important to him and the commercial chronicles his/her attempt to secure the bone. He tries burying it--a cat runs by as he is in the act. The dog peers from and upstars window at the fresh dug hole, he can't sleep, his dreams are nightmares of the precious bone being lost. There are a few variations on the commercial. Sometimes he hides it under a rug, but in most he ends up taking it to a bank, and having it put in a safe deposit box. Still, his dreams are haunted, the blues background builds, and there is no rest until he decides to insure it with the company sponsoring the commercial. It's a good example of a creative commercial that juggles several elements.

My other current favorite is of the surreal, stupid variety. It makes you remember it because it, like commercial country songs, relies on a hook, a phrase, delivered by a thickly-accented Scotsman--thrifty. He uses an oil level dipstick like a whip to slap men across the butt who have voiced a belief that all synthetic motor oils are the same, because they are not, "Thinkin' with your dipstick, Jimmy." He's obnoxious, he's insane. The last person he slaps has actually picked the correct product, but he slaps them across the butt anyway. They protest, "Why did you slap me?" they ask. "Because, that's thinkin' with your dipstick Jimmy," he responds.

The stated object of ads has always been to make you remember the product. Manufacturers believe it doesn't matter why you remember. The spot may delight you, make you cry, make you laugh, or leave a bad taste in your mouth. The thinking has always gone that it doesn't matter, as long as you remember what's being sold. The only person the ad makers fear are those consumers who make a conscous decision to buy or not buy the product based on the fact that they either have tried the product and don't like it, or find the ad offensive, and make a point not to purchase the product based on that. But that portion of the buying public is small, and most of us consumers are "Thinkin' with our dipstick . . . Jimmy!"

I got within temptation playing woot! thinking bout..well stuff I would rather not talk bout.


Hi RedHead, maybe I shouldn't ask, or it's a typo, or an acronym; so, if you'd rather not explain what it means, please perish the thought and tell us what is "woot"?

So I’m riding along in my automobile, listening to talk radio, preferably talk that is not too blatantly full of itself.

And the familiar commercial comes on. The voice is all smooth and soothe, so right you can almost hear the gentle waves breaking in the background. It’s a clear, even, American voice.

“Ever fill like something is missing in your life, that there is a void you’ve been unable to fill?” That was pretty much the blurb, the commercial ad. And I waited, expecting something like “Brought To You By The Church of the Latter Days Saints,” or “Jehovah’s Witnesses” or even “The New Upbeat Ministry of the Pierced and Tattooed.” Something like that. But not this time.

“Please visit,” the abbreviated pitch closed, "www.whyislam.org".
I was taken aback. I drive around a bit in my work, so I listen to a lot of talk radio. I can summarize the views and styles of such media luminaries as Rush, Bob Larsen, and Dr. Laura. I can pass as their advocates, parrot their philosophies and pet peeves to a fair degree.

But this was new. Those on the right had been warning of just this sort of Madison Avenue terrorism for a couple of years now, but this was the softest of blows. Social engineering at its best, audio jujitsu that turns the strength of the adversary upon itself, in this case the freedom of speech.

I went to www.whyislam.com to see if I could capture the radio ad. There are two radio ads listed there, but both of them mention Islam in the message, about how it’s the fastest growing religion in the world, about how it’s as American as family, and apple pie, but this brief bit wasn’t there. This one never talked about Islam except when naming the web page.

I didn’t really look at the web page anymore than I read the “Watchtower” that’s left on my screen door. I thank the one true god that I don’t care. But I do worry for the youth, whose minds are like pizza dough ready to be rolled and crimped by those who would take away my tequila, my “Family Guy”, and replace them if they could with Islamic American family values.

Finally an answer I can get my teeth into.

And so it shall, but the recession will long be over by then. Your post reminds me of one of Woody Allen's movies. Woody's character is shown as a child in school, and he is being seen by the school psychologist because he learned in science class that in billions and billions of years our yellow star, the sun, will burn out and all life on Earth will end. The fact sends him into an inconsolable state of depression.

Where's My Liver?

I resent the fact that the rate of obesity in younger people is ballooning.

It's not that they don't have a right to Supersize it, it just fries in the face of tradition.

After a responsible adult life of going to work and paying taxes, it is to be understood that my liver is teetering on the edge of petrification.

So I don't like the idea that some kid with permanently Cheeto stained fingers getting ahold of one before I do.

I fired and arrow into the sky
It fell just short of earth
Took out an eye

I tossed a message bottle into a raging sea
A wave whipped it back
And smoked my knee

I flung a boomerang
It arced like a brick

When it doesn't fly back
It's called a stick

This nice youg world traveler stayed with my wife and I in the early 70s. His name was Marco, so we called him Marco Porco. He'd been to parts of Europe, and was now in the U.S.--Fresno anyway. He carved wooden spoons to support himself as he traveled. Different economy then.

He said there was no "Swiss" language and that there were' I think he said' three main languages as you grew up. He grew up speaking Italian, but learned German I think along the way. My memory only serves slop lately so it's not important to correct me unless it's important to you, and I don't mind a bit.

So he was doing an amazing job of English after only about three months here. By the time he got to my house he was damn near fluent, but not quite. We asked him about his living accomodations in Switzerland, what was his apartment like? He thought about it for a moment to form the words and replied there were five rooms: two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, and a chicken.

Very close.

Clown faces with acrylic smiles
Wait while dusty speakers bleat

Arms wave from downrolled windows
At sunburned minues

But no one in the car in front of mine
Ever knows what the hell they want to eat

Very good, the great Cornholio couldn't have said it any better.

Somewhat less seriously, I'm a great hater of animal mistreaters, and I didn't watch Michael on TV. I hope he understands that animals--things like dogs and us--are something different than what he thought before. You can't tell what's in a person's heart--except with certain extreme examples like Mother Theresa and Charlie Manson. But, he did his time, he should be able to go back to work. I do think a cage fight with Mike Tyson before he got out would have been appropriate though, just so he could see it from the other side.

Flat

Succulent veins of snout and toe
Pink all over and ready to go
A favorite of the Aussie table
Monty Pythons' sing-song fable