Well, dear readers, I must write today's notes in speedy fashion because my very own handy-dandy cleaning lady will be here soon and, as you know, my handy-dandy cleaning lady does not like it when I'm in the house when she cleans. So, if these here notes seem hastily written, it is because I'm writing them in speedy fashion. Actually, I look quite good in speedy fashion - for example, I dressed very quickly upon arising, and yet I look lovely in my plaid shirt and peek-a-boo jeans. Well, we'd better cut to the chase and get on with these here notes. We must not shilly-shally or even shally-shilly. We must be succinct and to-the-point. However, it is hard being to-the-point when you have to stop and insert hyphens in words. So, no more hyphens, that is what I say. Down with hyphens. Ixnay on the yphenshay. Verboten mit de hyphens. Hyphens take a hyke. This is being succinct? I appear to be shilly-shallying, the very thing I was trying to avoid.

There. A new paragraph. That is called progress where I come from which, by the way, is Los Angeles, California, where new paragraphs have always, to my knowledge, been called progress for some obscure reason known only to Los Angeles, California itself and whoa Nellie if this hasn't turned into one of those consarned runon sentences (I know runon should have a hyphen but we're not doing hyphens today) and I can't stop it because it's got a mind of its own and why does one of those "its" have an apostrophe and the other "its" doesn't that's what I'd like to know and isn't the word "apostrophe" really kind of stupid in the extreme, such a big word for such a little mark and speaking of little marks just where the hell has Mr. Mark Bakalor been because we could really use him now to toss us a period and whoopsydaisy there's one now let me grab it.

My goodness, my fingers are out of breath from all that typing. I read a review of Miss Bernadette Peters' new CD, on the Show Business Weekly site, written by someone called Mr. David Hurst. It pretty much echoes (and I mean echoes) my very own thoughts about the album that were written here some weeks ago. What was interesting about the review was that the reviewer didn't enjoy the CD for reasons similar to my own, but he didn't really know how to express what he didn't like about it in any kind of meaningful way. In other words, he's pretty much typical of many reviewers today. But let's not go there, shall we? Let's not get into a discussion of reviewers and their credentials. In any case, with the internet, everyone is a critic and a reviewer. If you want to read someone who knows how to write, read Mr. Peter Filichia. He's fun, knowledgable, and a terrific writer. He's not pompous, doesn't take himself seriously and has style and wit.

Oops, I forgot, we must not shilly-shally, we must cut to the chase or, in our case, to the Unseemly Button below.

Moving right along... Last night I watched a movie entitled Training Day. It was excruciating, yet mesemerizing in its awfulness. They ought to have a Training Day for screenwriters and studio executives, because if this sort of crap gets greenlighted then I don't think there's much hope for films. It's so bad on just about every level that it's actually mind-boggling. Ethan Hawke's character, a moral and upright cop trying to get on an elite team of narcs, behaves so stupidly that you just want to bash him with a stupid stick. Denzel Washington, playing a badass bad guy (also a cop) chews the scenery as best he can, but to no avail. Unless I misread it, it appears to me that the screenwriter of this awfulness was also one of the stunt players. That might just be a first. The whole thing was directed by Mr. Antoine Fuqua, who gave us the far more enjoyable The Replacement Killers starring Chow Yun Fat and Mira Sorvino. That film, while no masterpiece, moved right along and was a brisk eighty minutes (if you subtract the eight minute end titles) - it was a real old fashioned programmer. This thing runs one hundred and twenty-two minutes (oops, a hyphen), and is interminable. Almost as shocking as the badness of the film is seeing what has happened to Tom Berenger who I didn't even recognize or realize was in the film until the end credits.

I also watched the first half of Bridget Jones's Diary, which is entertaining and which I'll finish tonight.

Well, do we know what day it is? Why yes, we do. It's Saturday, and Saturday means that it's time for our handy-dandy Unseemly Trivia Contest day. Now remember my admonishment: If you don't play you can't win. And conversely, if you don't win you can't play. Before we get to our question, I think that Mr. Antoine Fuqua's next film should be entitled Quaqua and I feel that the billing should be Antoine Fuqua's Quaqua. That film I would see. Well, on to our question:

A very well-known theater songwriter was once in the midst of an out-of-town (oops, hyphens) tryout of their new musical. Because the songwriter had a run-in (oops, a hyphen) with the law while the show was out-of-town (stop with these infernal hyphens already) and because of being detained, other songwriters wrote additional material when it was deemed that the show needed a lot of work before coming in for its Broadway run. Name the songwriter, name the show, name the additional songwriters and name the cause for the run-in (damn these hyphens to hell) with the law. Whew. Because these trivia questions have been somewhat difficult, if I don't have any guesses by tomorrow I will give you a nice handy-dandy clue.

Tomorrow, we'll be having a special rerun of our very first The Broadway Radio Show, with special guest, Susan Egan. Donald plays lots of selections from her brand spanking new CD, plus Susan is there for the entire hour (so am I and so is Vinnie). We've had tons of requests to air this show again, so if you missed it the first time around here's your chance. Tell your friends, tell your neighbors and be sure to tell Mr. Antoine Fuqua.

Well, the cleaning lady has arrived and is giving me sidelong glances, which means it is time for me to amscray, to vamoose, to make tracks, to hit the road, Jack, to be gone with the wind. But I'll be back tomorrow, never fear. Or, conversely, fear.

I don't know where my head was for yesterday's Bock and Harnick discussion. As many pointed out, if we were doing only Bock and Harnick I should not have included certain songs like Too Close for Comfort in my list. And how on earth could it slip my mind that Mr. Bock and Mr. Harnick had also given us Fiorello, Tenderloin and The Apple Tree, all of which contain favorite songs of mine. Well, when you're as old as I (is anyone as old as I?) these things happen. Today's topic of discussion: What are your favorite Bricusse and Newley songs. I know they're an odd choice, but I must say I'm rather fond of a lot of their work. I suppose this list can include songs written solely by Mr. Newley or Mr. Bricusse, but not with other collaborators. I'll start: The wonderful Once In a Lifetime and most of the rest of Stop the World, A Beautiful Land, Who Can I Turn To?, and A Wonderful Day Like Today from Roar of the Greasepaint, Pure Imagination, After Today and At the Crossroads from Dr. Doolittle, You and I from Goodbye, Mr. Chips, and the sublimely narcissistic but oddly appealing I'm All I Need from Hiernoymous Merkin.