Well, dear readers, apparently the airport has changed its flight path because there are fershluganah planes flying overhead every ten minutes. Who can sleep with such noise? Hopefully they will change it right back so those planes can wake up others instead of me. Speaking of the airport, our very own Susan Gordon arrives today to do a memorabilia show for The Twilight Zone. Isn’t that exciting, isn’t that just too too? It’s at the Beverly Garland Hotel in North Hollywood, and if we have any Hainsie/Kimlet TZ fanatics, they should stop in and see her. Another plane has just gone by. These planes sound like they’re going to land in my yard.
Dear reader Mr. Robert Armin has informed us that his new law firm does not allow Internet access in the office. Therefore, he will not be able to join us as regularly as he was. Well, I say phut to that law office. How dare them deny Mr. Armin or any other employee access to haineshisway.com? I’m sorry, but Hainsies/Kimlets have inalienable rights, do they not? I’m afraid we may have to boycott any place of work that does not allow access to haineshisway.com. If that doesn’t work, then we shall girlcott them. And just what do aliens have to do with our rights, or even lefts for that or any other matter?
There goes another airplane. Is this because of The Twilight Zone convention?
Last night I dreamed I was at Manderley.
All I remember of the dream is that I was trying on Speedos and it wasn’t pretty and that my friend Debby had bought her children presents they didn’t like. Also, that some kids (teens) were drinking water from the hose in front of my house in the middle of the night.
I’m continuing my Ronald Neame film festival by watching The Poseidon Adventure. I’ll have a full report on it over the weekend, but I will say that this film features one of the most obnoxious child performances I have ever seen.
Has anyone noticed how short these last few paragraphs have been? They are like Speedos, these last few paragraphs are. Now in addition to the every-ten-minute airplanes, we have loud birds cawing. Not the singing bird, mind you, but loud birds cawing and flying hither and thither, trying to be louder than the airplanes.
Well, you can blame it on the summer night, blame it on Rio, blame it on my youth, put the blame on Mame but don’t blame me. Do you know why you cannot blame me? Because I am impeccant, dear readers. Oh, yes, I am impeccant and there are no two or even three ways about it. How many of you dear readers immediately went to your dictionaries and looked up the word “impeccant”? You thought you’d catch me, didn’t you? You thought I made up that word or had used a word improperly, hadn’t you? Do you know how I found the word “impeccant”? I went to my handy-dandy dictionary and a funny thing happened on the way to looking up “inalienable” to see what aliens had to do with the price of tomatoes or squash – I found the word “impeccant” sitting there like so much fish and I was entranced by it and decided right then and there and also right there and then to work it into these here notes. So I did the old “blame” bit, just so I could use it. There really is no blame today, I just used it as an excuse to use my new word, “impeccant”. That is my inalienable right and I have exercised it. My inalienable right now is quite toned and buff with abs and buns of steel.
Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below. Do not blame me for this – because I am impeccant in that regard.
I forgot, it’s Friday, and Friday are short notes day, and yet these here notes are already medium-sized. Well, I’ll just keep the second half short. Who can think with these airplanes and cawing birds? They’re worse than the mowing gardeners.
I am really hoping to see some of you dear readers at the book signing and reading tomorrow at Bookfellows in Glendale. Otherwise all those cheese slices and ham chunks will go to non-dear readers.
Last night I went to The Ice House in Pasadena to see a comedian named Steve Bluestein. Let me just say here and now and also now and here that I do not like these comedy clubs and I do not like most comedians. That said, Mr. Bluestein was delightful – funny and most of his act was just working the room and therefore very spontaneous. Here is an interesting thing about Mr. Steve Bluestein: Twenty seven years ago he auditioned for the role of Dick Davis, Songwriter and Pervert, in The First Nudie Musical (you know who else auditioned – the very talented Dale Gonyea). That role was originally conceived as someone who was Harry Schechter’s age and as a person of non-color. Even though Mr. Bluestein gave a good audition (as did Mr. Gonyea) neither of them felt right for the part. It was only when I was watching Mr. Rene Hall, our musical director, conduct the orchestra sessions (two weeks before shooting) that I came to the realization that he’d be the perfect Dick Davis – in other words he was totally opposite from what I’d written, but somehow he was it. That, dear readers, is called serendipity.
Well, don’t forget, we’ll have a brand spanking new Unseemly Trivia Contest tomorrow, and Donald will have a new radio show up for our mental delectation on Sunday. And still the airplanes fly overhead and still the birds are cawing like maniacal harpies on bad acid. Well, that is their inalienable right, I suppose. “Cawing like maniacal harpies on bad acid”? Well, that is a sentence, dear readers – well, it’s actually a fragment of a sentence.
Well, it is time for me to take the day, to do the things I do, to scurry about whilst cawing like maniacal harpies on acid, to go hither and thither and hence and whence and thence. I have chosen which selections I’ll be reading tomorrow and I think they will give a good sampling of the book itself. Today’s topic of discussion: Who was the teacher who had the most influence on you and what was the class? I’ll start: I would almost have to say my music appreciation teacher in junior high school – he opened up the worlds of classical music and jazz to me and taught me how to listen. And my high school drama teacher, Mr. Gordon – a strange man, but one who encouraged me to become an actor and to not settle for just being funny. Your turn.