Well, dear readers, here we are on December 8, 2001. Many years ago, on this very day, a young lad was born, and that young lad was none other than me. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I was both born and a young lad, not necessarily at the same time. So, I think this calls for a celebration, don't you? Well, of course I think it calls for a celebration, why wouldn't I? So, put on your pointy birthday hats, break out the Diet Coke, cheese slices and ham chunks and let's have a damn celebration. Let's celebrate until the cow's come home. And just when are those damn cows coming home? Frankly, I haven't seen those damn cows in days and I'm a bit worried about them. What the hell am I talking about? Oh, yes, 12/8 and what it means.

I have a distinct memory of going to see Mr. Stanley Kubrick's 2001 in 1968 at the old Warner Cinerama Theater on Hollywood Blvd. And I remember going home to the rather horrid place I was living in at the time and thinking, "2001 - that's so far away, will I even be here in 2001". Well, apparently the answer is "yes", because, lo these many years later, here I am. But enough self-reflection and deep thoughts, this is a celebration, damn it all, damn it all to hell. This is a time for cheese slices and ham chunks and fatty meats and churros. I mentioned one of my childhood heroes, Sheriff John, the other day, and how he would wish kids in Los Angeles a happy birthday, live on his show. Then he used to sing his Birthday Song. I don't know if the Sheriff is still with us, but nothing would please me more than if he were here to sing the following:

Put another candle on my birthday cake.
We're gonna bake a birthday cake.
Put another candle on my birthday cake,
I'm another year old today.

We'll have some pie and sandwiches
And choc'late ice cream, too;
We'll sing and play the day away,
And one more thing I'm gonna do...

I'll blow out the candles on my birthday cake,
And when I do, a wish I'll ma-ake...
Put another candle on my birthday cake -
I'm another year old today.

Thanks to "P" for posting that the other day. Holy moley on rye, look at the size of this tease text. It is unwieldy. Oh, yes, this tease text is unwieldy and now I will be bitch-slapped by Mr. Mark Bakalor, because birthday or no birthday we must never have an unwieldy tease text. So, eat a cheese slice and hurry and click the Unseemly Button below so we can continue our big birthday bash.

I received a surprise birthday gift today, chocolite licorice. I love chocolate licorice and by golly and by gum now I've got some, thanks to the surprise birthday gift-giver. This evening I'm being taken to dinner by none other than Mr. Vincent Cirilli and his girl-friend Stephanie, the brilliant cellist who has played on most of my albums. Mr. Cirilli has recently become very enamored of the movie Shaft. The movie Shaft seems to hold special meaning for Mr. Cirilli right now.

Let's put on some music, shall we? I'm especially fond of Prez Prado's It's Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom Time. I like it because I have no idea what the hell that fershluganah title means. Then we can listen to some Lester Lanin Dance Party albums. Wait, listen... The singing bird is outside right now and its doing a wonderful rendition of the Quintet from West Side Story - all five parts, if you can believe it. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful Los Angeles day than today. The sky is as blue as blue can be and it's clear as clear can be.

Since I was speaking of Sheriff John, did you know that I actually got to meet him? Back in 1984 I directed a documentary for KABC Channel Seven, called Weekday Heroes, which was about the local kid show hosts who did live shows five days a week here in Los Angeles. It was my affectionate tribute to them, and it was a dream come true for me to meet not only Sheriff John, but Engineer Bill and Chucko the Clown as well. They were all the sweetest people, none more so than the Sheriff. Our host for the show was none other than the Beaver's brother, Wally (Tony Dow). I have wonderful pictures taken from the set, and maybe if we can figure out how, we'll post them to the Guy Haines Photo Gallery, so you can see them for your very own selves.

Oh, I'm having such fun on my birthday (which is also the Feast of the Immaculate Conception - I'm not going anywhere near that), celebrating with you, dear readers. This has been a somewhat difficult year, for reasons that you are probably aware of. But it has also been a wonderful year in certain ways - I wrote my very first novel, I produced some nice albums, and I met some wonderful people, too. It is sometimes difficult to not let the negative outweigh the positive, but we must, we simply must, otherwise the negative wins and we must never let the negative win, because that is unseemly. I adore all of you dear readers, because I feel we are a little family here (well, there might be a couple of dear readers who are here for other reasons - and we do hope you are enjoying your little sojourns here at haineshisway.com, because we aim to please). Oh, I feel it is time for a ham chunk, don't you? And a sip of our beloved Diet Coke.

That was delicious, wasn't it? In a little while I will go out jogging, just to make certain that even though I'm another year old today, that I can still do such a thing as jog. I will wear my Nike Shorts and a t-shirt, and I will look svelte and sleek as I run with the wind o'er the streets of Studio City. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I will soon be running with the wind o'er the streets of Studio City.

Mr. Mark Bakalor tells me that our brand spanking new handy-dandy Unseemly Donation Button is working quite handily, and by gum and by golly if someone hasn't already used it and left us an unseemly donation. If you click on said Unseemly Donation Button you will get some text that tells you all about what said donation is for and from there it's all quite simple. Or so Mr. Mark Bakalor tells me - perhaps I'll just go see for myself.

Since the bird is outside doing numbers from West Side Story, perhaps we'll have a special birthday What If. What if Irving Berlin had written West Side Story? And it goes something like this (to the tune of You Can't Get A Man With A Gun):

When Jets start to grumble,
There's gonna be a rumble,
So you'd best pack a knife or gun.
'Cause when they rumble hard - oh
You know Riff and Bernardo
Will be dead when that rumble is done.

When Jets start in dancin'
There's no time for romancin'
When one's White and one's Mexicun.
And when Tony starts hummin'
And singin' something's comin'
Then you know he'll end up on the run.

On the run,
On the run,
People die and then he's on the run

But he'd drink Sangria,
If he could wed Maria
In the hot Puerto Rican sun.
But because of the tiff and
Bernardo stabbing Riff and
Tony killing her bro
What the schmo doesn't know
Is that Chino is packing a gun.

When finger's start snappin'
Then something's bound to happen
All that tension can't be much fun.
Still Maria feels pretty
While somewhere in the city
Chino's still on the prowl with that gun.

The Jets try to stay cool
With dancing that is way cool
While this tragedy's almost done.
But while Tony's confessing
Maria is undressing -
On the street Chino waits with his gun.

With his gun,
With his gun -
They have sex while he waits with his gun.

Anita gets taunted,
And Chino is undaunted
As he fires his loaded gun.
Tony runs for Maria
He's one dead quesedilla
Tony's shot in the chest
She's depressed - very stressed,
And yes now West Side Story is done.

Well, dear readers, it is time for me to jog, and to do birthday things. But post your comments in the Unseemly Comment Box below and in that way the party will continue until the cows come home. I'll tell you something, those cows are going to get a licking when they come home. They are bad, staying out like this without even calling. In any case, I'll check in from time to time and respond to your comments, too, and we will all party hearty until the wee small hours of the morning when, hopefully, the cows will be safe and sound and snuggled in their little cow beds.