Shamus Beaglehole voted SILLY NAME OF THE YEAR

Congrats, Shamus.

Not that I would've voted for him. W.C. Fields was amused by the last name Beaglehole many many decades ago. He used it in a radio sketch comedy (one of the audio bits Columbia resurrected when they were issuing his old classics on vinyl).

A runner-up, Chillie Poon, already has the honor of winning a Far East beauty contest, so she probably wasn't too upset that she lost this one. Beaglehole or Poon? Take your pick.

It isn't the Minister of Silly Names that decides who wins each year. It's done by the small group of people who know there actually is a "Silly Name" website. Dozens of names are nominated, and then "seeded" into brackets. Voters get to advance the silliest name along. It seems this year, handicappers were sure that Shamus Beaglehole would be named the best name.

The complete Top Ten:

Good luck to all in 2015. Including you...

Why Cosby Can't, Won't and Shouldn't Talk about the Scandal

The circus is in town. Friday night, Katie Couric unveils the contrite Stephen Collins.

And what has he gotten for it? Angry victims who don't like his apology, various people who are demanding juicier details, and fans disappointed and disgusted with him.

Who won? Couric did, and so did Collins' wife, who had leaked personal tapes made during therapy sessions. Leaking tapes is legal if it's for a good cause. Maybe? The point isn't whether Collins is guilty (proven), or whether Cosby is guilty (no convictions, one settlement).

It's the fact that in some situations, "No comment" makes the most sense, and anything else makes it worse.

"I'm a human being with flaws" is not cutting it, any more than the Republican politician who is against homosexuality but got caught propositioning some guy in a men's room. On Couric's show, she pointed out that he played a Protestant minister on "7th Heaven." How dare he.

The moment you start defending yourself, you show a weakness that will be exploited till you bleed. And you better bleed vividly to the point of near-death, otherwise nobody is going to be satisfied.

What did Gloria Allred's posse scream last week? That aside from money to be pulled from his bank, Cosby's Emmy awards should be pulled from his home. Anything else? An apology, too. Except an apology would open Cosby up to more lawsuits for damages real and imagined. Some would demand personal apologies, not just a blanket one. Shouldn't each be personalized? To ones he merely "tried to kiss," to those who thought they were drugged but weren't, etc? 20 or 30 apologies with more on the way for anyone who happens to want one?

Again, this isn't about whether or not some of these women have a good reason for anger. It's about what the public falsely thinks the answer is: a huge mea culpa that is somehow devastating enough and degrading enough to be satisfying.

We see this in courtrooms all the time. People who've done nothing, and people who've done heinous things, both have to be brilliant actors in an apology before the judge.

In this case, Cosby's lawyers have wisely told him to just zip it. He doesn't HAVE to appear before a judge. Issuing any kind of apology is going to create more complaints, animosity and questions.

Woody Allen issued one final "I didn't do it, and I won't be discussing this ever again" in the case of Dylan Farrow. By that time, Dylan was demanding that Cate Blanchett somehow apologize for appearing in a Woody Allen film, and insisting nobody should ever work in one of his films again. Cosby's wife and one of his daughters have made breif statements insisting the Cliff Huxtable character is the real deal. Perhaps if they were hounded as much as Woody Allen, they'd have to revert to "No comment," or "I won't be discussing this ever again."

Collins' apology has only drawn ire and opened him up for more questions, and fueled the controversy. It's doubtful the Couric show will sate enough people to let him go back and earn a living. Should he be shunned and NOT allowed to earn a living? Interesting question...one of many that are only sparked and re-sparked every time the story is once again in the papers.

More interesting questions: should every song Phil Spector produced be banned from the radio? Forever? Should Mark David Chapman be banned from conjugal visits with his wife? Should Manson's marriage be prohibited? Should all of O.J. Simpson's records be given an asterisk or removed entirely from the football record books? Should the movie studios Photoshop his face out of the "Naked Gun" movies and insert...oh, the face of a football player who merely beat up his wife, was a drunk driver, or exposed himself?

One day we'll have the technology to Photoshop a movie ourselves, if we want to. Maybe the decision should be left to individuals. Is it American to demand that theaters refuse to book Cosby? Judd Apatow suggested just that...that theaters NOT book Cosby and NOT give the public a chance to decide by buying tickets or not. Apatow Tweeted yesterday that people should go see "The Interview" and defy anyone telling them what they can or can't see.

Derek Jeter mentioned the other day, that the best thing a celebrity can do to "stay out of trouble" is to say "No Comment" and "I don't know."

On this topic, I'll now only state "No Comment." How long I'll stick with that, "I don't know."

Happy Holidays...when Jews traditionally go out for Chinese Food

PHUK KIEU

It's dangerous to say Phuk Kieu, and it's dangerous to KNOW Phuk Kieu.

The 24 Hour Comedy Record Marathon

Congratulations to Al Roker, for ROKERTHON!

I don't know the specifics (bathroom breaks, nap time if any) but I know how TIRING such a thing is.

Well before I wrote "Comedy On Record" and "The Goldmine Comedy Record Price Guide," I set some kind of record via "The Comedy Record Marathon." I took over the turntables at WSCR and played nothing but comedy records from 10am to 10am.

I was both the DJ and the engineer, so the longest break I could take was about 20 minutes...one side of an album. But since I didn't bring an alarm clock or a timer with me, I couldn't risk taking a break and falling asleep! So it was indeed, 24 solid hours.

Just why I thought of doing this, I have no idea. I'd never stayed up all night in my life. I just figured that if Dick Van Dyke (that sitcom episode, "The 100 Terrible Hours") wasn't punchy until the second or third day, I could survive one day.

Things went pretty well until around 9pm, when I realized I still had a half a day to go. A slight panic attack set in, as I wondered about my back-up plan. Coffee? Tea? I was never a coffee drinker. I most certainly never took ups (or downs). I hadn't even thought of asking people to bring up a lot of Pepsi (there was no Red Bull back then). So all I could do was settle in for the long, solitary hours. I'd made my bed...an upright chair in a radio station...and I'd have to sit up in it.

I think around 6am, 7am, I knew the worst was over. I had only a few hours of reel-to-reel tape, so I was conserving it by only recording myself for about 10 minutes at a time. I haven't heard the recordings in years, but I remember that my voice was very weary (this was no longer funny!) and I was a bit spaced out. "This is Ronald L. Smith, and I've been Ronald L. Smith for 20 hours now..."

I also remember trudging back to my room, lying down, and NOT being able to fall asleep. Not for a little while, anyway.

Like Al Roker, the main comment I had after it was over, was two words: "Never again!"

Spelling is not in their vocabulary

There was an inspirational piece in the London Daily Fail, er, Mail, today.

It was about Jennifer Bricker, 27, who was born without legs. She hopes to put together a dance act, in addition to her current work as a motivational speaker.

Speaking of the handicapped, it's nice of the paper to hire one-eyed proofreaders.

About that KIM KARDASHIAN NAKED ASS cover on PAPER magazine

"The Big Zuckerberg" - using Facebook to "Go Viral"

"Let's make it GO VIRAL."

It's the phrase that's replaced Mickey Rooney shouting to Judy Garland, "Let's put on a PLAY!"

The idea is that you create some lame comedy piece, sing some ridiculous novelty song, or hoist some "cute" video of your pet to YouTube...and then NETWORK, NETWORK, NETWORK on Twitter or Facebook and magically get infected. Uh, "go viral."

Let's see. You can have 5,000 Facebook "friends," most of whom never look at your page because they just collect "friends" to have, not to read. But those 5,000 are going to...watch your video and push it to the "viral" level of 100,000? 500,000? A MILLION HITS?

Sorry, "The Big Zuckerberg" (annoying your friends on Facebook) is not going to make it. Tweeting isn't going to do it, either. Most of the YouTube videos I see don't even get 50 hits. 2,000 (which I don't think even reaches "monetization" level) is probably the average. Steal somebody's song and post it, and maybe 20,000 people will check it out, if it isn't already on Spotify.

It seems pretty naive to think "networking" will make it so. Yet every day a brief glimpse at Facebook posts yields some giddy, pie-in-the-sky post that's the equivalent of crap on my shoe:

How awfully cynical, too, that big corporations are using this ploy: "Make a commercial for us. If yours GOES VIRAL, you WIN." Win what? Well, you win the contest, that's all. It's like the Jimmy Kimmel game: "Tell your kid you ate all his candy. A thousand kids will be crying and howling in agony, but we might pick five that pout and are funny. Those five...get bragging rights."

Not that I want to crush anyone's inane dream. It goes like this:

"Let's all get together and help somebody we don't even know BECOME A STAR! Let's watch somebody's TV commercial. Bad song. Awful comedy routine."

"Hey gang, Old Blind Pew wants to be a movie critic. If enough people watch his demo review, I just know we can persuade "Entertainment Tonight" to sign him up! Come on, gang! Make it GO VIRAL!"

This is the new paradigm: reach for the brass ring by throwing your time and effort into uploading something onto YouTube. The odds are 50 million to one, but "you got to be in it to win it."

What can you do? You hit the BLOCK button. If you want to be dishonest, you say "Thanks, I'm doing it RIGHT NOW." If you say you don't appreciate blatant "networking," or point out the long odds and the waste of time involved, you'll get a torrent of abuse for being a spoilsport, a killjoy, a bastard..." all the synonyms for A REALIST.

You sure can't let 'em know: "I think it wouldn't interest anybody, outside of a small circle of friends..."

DAILY NEWS DOES IT AGAIN - The Great Proofreading Cliche

Oh, PLEASE, Daily News...this one again?

When will proofreaders put up a moratorium on this?

November 5th, 2014, a story about a triple amputee (prosthetic legs, handless arm, etc.) who somehow killed his parents.

A few words on ANDY ROONEY, who died November 4th, 2011

Ever notice that people tend to remember the day you were born, and not the day you died? Why is that?

Why is it people will say, "Hey, today would've been Andy Rooney's 103rd birthday." As if you could feed cake to a corpse. Isn't it more important to say "Hey, today, November 4th, Andy Rooney died?" After all, you were around when he died, not when he was born, right? And which was the more emotional and painful experience? Except for Andy Rooney's mother, it would be the death date.

Ever wonder what people would say about you, oh, three years after you died? Anything at all? Maybe "Remember the bushy eyebrows?" "There are no more curmudgeons." Nevermind, they said that when Bea Arthur died, too.

Sometimes, I think about Andy Rooney in the summer, when "60 Minutes" was in re-run. Did he have nice summers? Were they nice because he knew he didn't have to complain about something every seven days? When women think about "the curse," do they feel glad they weren't Andy Rooney, who was on this weird cycle of having to moan and groan EVERY seven days for most of the year? Did it get worse for him late in life when he perhaps had to whine and grimace AND remember to slip some protective pad into his underwear?

I wonder about these things.

They say the evil that men do lives after them, and the good is oft in turds with their bones. Something like that. Can anyone remember a good Andy Rooney line? If they can, does that mean it's evil, because it lived after him?

After November 4th, 2011, why didn't they just call the show "58 minutes," and leave the last two minute for a blank screen as a tribute? Sort of like a moment of silence? Would that be asking too much? I mean, aren't we sick of that tick-tick-tick noise throughout the show?

I wonder how many people still have a sense of wonder.

Andy Rooney made you wonder. First, he made you wonder how he got that job. Second, he made you more "aware" of things. You became aware of how easily most anything could get on your nerves. Especially him. Did you notice that? I did.

I share Andy Rooney's sense of wonder most every day. I question everything. Would it be in poor taste to raise money for Oscar Pistorious on Kickstarter? Does "election day" provoke a lot of Viagra jokes in Chinatown? Shouldn't they wipe the soundtrack to DVDs of "silent" movies? Why did I get a free flu shot yesterday via Obamacare when my name isn't Obama? Can you easily do this too, just come up with whimsical, annoying, deliberately querelous misconceptions on most anything and everything you see and hear?

I wonder about these things, on the day Andy Rooney died, November 4th. Do you?

CHE WHO...SAID WHAT?? (Michael Che and the Catcalling YouTube Video)

What a surprise...the unfunny Michael Che (we now have TWO unfunny males on "Weekend Update") offered some jive about how HE has to put up with fans saying nice things to him on the street...

...and this equals jeering, passive-aggressive comments like "Smile," and "Hello Beautiful" coming from evil dudes who have to distract and even destroy the simple act of a woman walking along minding her own business.

Michael...YOU might enjoy "harassment." I don't. And yes, I've been a victim. Me. A male. More about that later on.

You probably know already that a rather sullen-looking woman was recorded (for an edited YouTube that's gotten 12 million hits) being "admired" by cretins, some of whom started following her just to keep up a steady stream of "compliments." Somehow the "pick up" isn't confined to bars or other places where it might be encouraged. Some people think a moving target is "asking for it."

Huffington naturally got into a huff about this. First off, let's repeat a word about Michael Che: UNFUNNY. The guy is not a particularly amusing writer, and he's even worse delivering jokes. He might slowly evolve a personality, but so far he's about as dull as any local newscaster with a "trying to be funny" bone. What he said was sarcasm, I don't think you are going to laugh...or be able to find a real "joke" in what he said. Meet me after the break...

First, read the not-Chris-Rock level "apology" he wrote to "all the women that Ive [sic] harrassed..."

When you've done something dumb...the impulse is...to do something dumber.

Che Queasy did just that. He followed up his unfunny yap with this Tweet:

You want to read that first thing back again? This guy is an SNL writer? He sounds more like a high schooler: "I'm simply just making fun of something that is important to a lot of people."

Except it lacked any kind of wit, and what's important to a lot of people is their privacy. Guys don't get it? Walking down the street shouldn't be walking a gauntlet. Yes, some girls seem to be "asking for it," with a provocative outfit. They like the "look but not touch" agony they cause guys. Maybe. What should a guy do? Look. And shut the fuck up.

Sam Kinison once joked, "I don't condone wife-beating. I understand it!"

Coming from Kinison, a professional comedian who knows how to deliver a punchline, it was funny. At least, as funny as Gleason's "One of these days, Alice...BANG, ZOOM! RIGHT TO THE MOON!"

It's no longer exactly PC, which may or may not be a bad thing. But it was obviously a joke, told by a guy with charisma. Michael Che offered nothing but very limp sarcasm, and then he got pissy about it. Maybe one day Michael Che could actually get away with some "observational" sarcasm...but right now he's just an amateur.

Does this guy NOT have a mother? A sister? A girlfriend? Somebody female that he would not want subjected to gutter abuse?

Sure, guys are annoyed that eye-candy is out there and they can't eat it. They're even jealous that most any chick can put on make-up and a short skirt and get all the attention she wants. But, she also gets more attention than she wants. Besides, real men don't want to be pursued, they believe in the "art of seduction." It doesn't involve shouting "SMILE" to annoy some stranger determined to ignore them.

I'm not the celebrity Michael is, but I did have an experience with...what do you call him...a fan? A stalker? A passive-aggressive lunatic? I'm the neighborhood celebrity, at least in his eyes. Yes, I've written 19 books, edited several national magazines, and (this is what clinches it) I've actually been on television.

Several times, actually, people have stopped me with a, "Say, didn't I see you last night...talking about Johnny Carson...talking about Bill Cosby...talking about Julie Newmar...talking about comedy..." Yeah.

As Carson used to say, "it comes with the territory." But the people who came up to me did so because I was at a bus stop, getting the mail...pausing and being accessible. Nobody was following me down the street, or getting in my face out of jealousy and hostility. If you're a "public figure" because you've been on TV, that's your choice. A woman walking down the street is just walking down the damn street.

My pest? Well, I was a member of a health club. A rather aggressive extrovert introduced himself as we took a break at poolside. He asked what I did. I told him. I had no idea that this would lead to him constantly calling out my name whenever he'd see me...in the club or even across the street. This was being friendly? Pointing me out to people standing near him? "That's...Ron Smith...he's a famous writer! Hey Ron!" Did I ask for this? Did I want my name broadcast to everyone? Did I want to be distracted, having to wave a hello, or even stop and politely listen to this guy's drivel as he introduced me to his pals?

I began to look ahead...and then cross the street if I saw him heading my way. Then, a few years ago, I had an ear infection; I was so ill and dizzy I could barely make it to the post office or the supermarket. The last thing I wanted was to talk to HIM. But I got, "Hey, don't go away," and "Hey, SMILE," and "I got a joke for you," and he'd literally chase my wounded carcass down the block till he caught up to me and bellowed the punchline. was it any of his damn business if I was sick? Did I have to explain this to him while barely able to stand?

I began ignoring...glaring...and when I was well enough to take him on if I had to, outright insults. He got a lot of this, since his reply was, "If somebody calls me an asshole it's obvious they know one when they look in the mirror." Something like that.

Eventually he stopped...I was at the point of putting out a restraining order. He thought all this was him being friendly? Maybe. I'd had enough.

Frankly, I've always sympathized with celebrities, because I've had so many social encounters with them and some are friends. It can be very annoying to be stopped in mid-conversation by a total stranger who wants an autograph, a photo, or has to ask a few questions. Phyllis Diller once told me "fans are the bane of my existence." Soupy Sales once shrugged: "It takes just as much time to be nice as to be nasty." However they tolerate it, the point is they're in the public eye and it's public relations. They asked for it? In a way. The woman who made the video didn't "ask for it." She wasn't walking around like Kardashian or Viley Virus.

The catcaller guys wouldn't be very comfortable if GAY men did the same thing to them. They'd find it difficult to walk down the street without a combatively angry expression. They'd become phobic and might even get aggressive about fighting back with a glare or an insult.

Back to Michael Che. On thing about writing comedy, or seeing the world through the prism of a comedian, is your itchy sensitivity can produce a pearl of wit. In this case, not. Not everything can be dismissed with some funky "improv." What's amusing here, is Che's sulky line about how from now on he'll keep his hilarious observations to himself. Do that. Then you'll learn the difference between being class clown and being a truly successful comedian with class.

A few huffers at the Huffington Post left comments that deserve the last word, and so they get it. I could've put these at the top of the article with a sneeringly polite line about "ladies first," but how about we try, just a little, to treat women as equals sometimes? To turn off the unctuous flattery that is really a form of hostility?

Wanna Come to a Costume BRAWL?

Oh, the "FUN" of Times Square...and its equivalent in Hollywood, where yesterday a brawl took place. A male superhero slammed a costumed female to the ground...as a fake Chewbacca, Waldo and Freddie Krueger tried to prevent further damage to her:

In New York City we've already seen a psychotic Elmo curse and scream anti-semitic slurs, and various costumed cartoon characters get into push-and-shove rages (and worse) if they didn't get the "tip" they expected.

Why is this allowed? Because in this Google-world, nobody believes in intellectual property. Before Google allowed its bloggers to steal all the music and offer free downloads, before Google decided to guide people to every thieving torrent, forum and website, before Google decided it could digitize any book it pleased, before Google felt it could excerpt every newspaper article, and before Google took over YouTube and began allowing everyone to upload music and bootleg concert footage and even the latest TV shows and sports highlights...people respected INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY...and COPYRIGHT...and TRADEMARK.

These terms no longer exist because "it ruins our fun!" Notice a line in the article, which appeared in the Daily News. Costumed cretins have filed lawsuits screaming about their "First Amendment" rights. They do not have ANY right to use trademarked costumes and the intellectual property of others to extort money from tourists. These morons didn't invent Spiderman or Batgirl. They should require licensing agreements.

Thanks to the influence of Google, and such partners in crime as Amazon and of course, Ebay (where duping photos, making unauthorized t-shirts, and even Photoshopping movie star's faces onto hardcore porn images makes money for them), the notion of copyright protection is quaint.

Oh, what charming publicity for Marvel Comics, The Muppets, and the Batman franchise owned by Warner Bros., when unauthorized versions of their characters intimidate tourists and push and shove each other for prime locations to make illegal profits.

The scuffles and the disorderly conduct...haven't led to any meaningful legislation yet. Perhaps the lawmakers are waiting for some tourist to fire a gun at a very mortal Superman, or waiting for Tickle-Me Elmo to punch a child into a coma. As it is, with so many of these costumed characters raging on the streets (you can sometimes get double vision or triple vision when several miscreants wear identical outfits) Times Square is more obnoxious and congested and dangerous than when it was loaded with porn and hookers.

I have nostalgia for the good old days, when the only odd face in Times Square belonged to Joe Franklin. And it wasn't a mask.

Just Slice Away, Renee : Renee Zellwegger Changes her Face

Joan Rivers must be spinning in the air (she was cremated). LOOK at what plastic surgery can do. It can transform a pillowy-faced woman with squinchy eyes and a sour expression on her lips...into...

The exact opposite? What's she going to call herself? She ain't Renee Zellwegger anymore.

Face like a lemon meringue pie? Just slice way, Renee...till you pare down to somebody bearable. And unrecognizable.

Tale a look at some of the past disasters in show biz plastic surgery:

What's the secret, Renee? A ginsu knife? Saran wrap? Stuck your face through a very sharp harp? Total face transplant?

Congratulations to the world's greatest female impersonator. You're a very lovely woman, whoever you are.

David Letterman Feud: "Big Ink" TONY MENDEZ FIRED FOR ROUGHING UP BILL SCHEFT

The headline of today's NY POST is "The Hate Show." Well, that's Post hyperbole. "Big Ink" Mendez was just "big irked." But when you go after a co-worker, you go. The Post website had this more demure photo:

Isn't it nice to know that EVERY office is the same? Inter-office feuds and rivalries surface and somebody gets fired.

Actually it goes back to EVERY schoolroom, where the classmates scuffle and the teacher doesn't care who started it.

It doesn't surprise me that Tony Mendez finally went too far. He was one of the few people on the "Late Show" staff who didn't treat Dave with kid gloves. I remember being in the infamous "Hello Deli" one afternoon, and some fans were waiting for sandwiches. One of them grumbled that Dave was behind Jay Leno in the ratings: "What can he do about it?"

A voice said, "He could try being funny."

Heads turned. It was Tony Mendez talking. Naughty, naughty! Someone told him he should be careful with remarks like that! Mendez just shrugged and said, "It's true." Apparently Mendez had become so adept at re-ordering the cue cards and sometimes helping to choose which re-write punchline was best, that he could appraise the current quality of Dave's material.

Over the years, Letterman's prickly remarks about "Inky Mendez" the "cue card BOY," gave way to a more respectful nickname of "Big Ink," and running gags about the excitable Cuban throwing down his cards and "cursing" in Spanish and walking out.

A former dancer in Broadway shows, Mendez had long ago learned to snit proudly. He eventually got his own YouTube channel and routines on the "Late Show" website, and while some people faded away (Biff Henderson, and Rupert Jee) there was always room for some byplay with "Big Ink" from time to time.

No question, if you do it right, an irreverent attitude toward The Big Guy can work in your favor. Ask Ricky Gervais, Billy Crystal, Martin Short and Tom Hanks among others. Dave is often "asking for it," enjoying planned bits where Alan Kalter calls him "Duck face," or the Top 10 list somehow is full of jokes about Dave's age. He seemed to be thrilled when Cher called him an asshole.

Mendez seemed to be doing it right. He told the NY Post, “We tell each other ‘Fuck you’ and ‘Hey asshole.’ He doesn’t do that with anybody — but he feels comfortable with me. That brings a bit of normalcy — because everyone else is like, ‘Yes, yes, Mr. Letterman. If you want something impossible, yes, we’ll do it, Mr. Letterman.’"

Tony Mendez never just "inked" cards. He was involved in the last-minute re-shuffling of the monologue and the ever-perfectionist re-writing of punchlines. He claimed, “If I realize one of the jokes needs the setup for the punch line because one of the jokes before it got cut, I have to write something really fast there. Dave doesn’t like to repeat the setup.”

Bill Scheft, the closest thing to an Ed McMahon this Carson wanna-be has, is not just the head writer. He stands off camera giving Dave some security and confidence...that if there's any problem, he's got a back-up wiseguy to throw out a funny line or help salvage a chaotic situation. Dave isn't going to rely on a mere producer that way.

Scheft's ability to ingratiate himself, seem irreplaceable, and to dictate to Mendez and take credit for the way the cards were assembled, got to be too much:

“As Dave is giving me a change, Bill will start yelling the same change — but his own version — because he’ll think it’s funnier. And I have to say, ‘One at a time, I can’t hear anybody...I know what I'm doing. Get off my back."

After an outburst from Tony, Dave had enough. Like the boss he is, and also like any school teacher trying to maintain order between the teacher's pet and one of the wiseguys, Dave called out, "Tony, your sour disposition isn't helping."

Tony fired back, "You're the one who has the sour disposition, motherfucker!"

But THAT didn't get him fired.

Overnight, he couldn't get this latest incident out of his mind. He hated that once again, Scheft "was trying to create a wedge between us so Dave would think I was an asshole.” The following morning, Mendez, though smaller and older, came after Scheft, grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him up against a wall.

"He was very surprised. He didn’t say a word. He was cowering, his eyes were real big, he probably peed a little bit on his pants.”

The potential fight was quickly broken up, and Mendez was ultimately told he was through. With less than half a year till "The Late Show" ends its run, the producers also told Mendez that he could keep his health insurance, and even remain on salary. He simply couldn't return after committing an unacceptable act of violence. And Mendez agreed. He has nothing against Dave, but is irritated that he'd been goaded into a power struggle he couldn't win...not against an Emmy-nominated writer and joke-crony Dave needs like a crutch.

That Letterman even had a cue card guy is rather remarkable...but he's a throwback to Carson. Most everyone else, from talk show hosts to newscasters, rely on a TelePrompter.

Mendez vs Scheft is hardly the first anecdote of "trouble in paradise" at the Letterman show, with its mysterious banishings of beloved on-screen stooges, replaced announcers, and, er, uh, the affair with one of the staffers (didn't we wonder why she was getting so much air-time?)

Ironically, Dave's girlfriend, Stephanie, worked on Tony's website show...suggested by Dave. In a memorable appearance together to promote the show, Tony instantly started attacking Stephanie as unprofessional, and she evenly responded by saying he was a diva. Tony also admitted that Dave stopped doing cameos because he "pissed" Dave off too often.

Ultimately it just tells you that Merman sang a lie. No business like show business? No, it's like every other business...there's backstabbing and power games and sudden problems that couldn't be expected and aren't written and approved beforehand. At 69, it's pretty much over for Mendez, but nobody's exactly lining up at Barnes & Noble for a Scheft book signing, and it's a big question whether Letterman will be like Carson or not, and disappear entirely, rather than make a few stoic guest appearances at award shows or on the set of somebody's sitcom.

Ultimately, as Mr. Mendez has shown, the faults lie not in the cards, but in ourselves.

Pardon MEME - Stupidest Hoax of the Day

Halloween is coming (zzzzz) and ooh, look at this fantastic MEME on Facebook!

Stunning.

It's remarkable. Sensational...even mediocre.

You wonder what's the matter with people who make MEMEs like this. Are they idiots who don't know what they're doing? Imbeciles who think they're pulling a clever hoax? Or morons who pass this crap along to annoy even more people?

Who doesn't know that Halloween is on the 31st, not on the 13th??

Is that supposed to be a hilarious practical joke? Fact is, all of us know gullible idiots who are constantly sending us dimwit e-mails and posting jackass memes that makes us scream SNOPES!

Some of them are, sadly, friends whose lapses in intelligence and common sense we must tolerate. After all, it allows us to make fools of them when WE have the evil urge to prove that most people walk around with their eyes at half-mast and their brain cells resembling and acting like small curd cottage cheese.

"And those quotes from George Carlin aren't really George Carlin..." (Weird Al Yankovic, "Stop Forwarding that Crap To Me")

John Brown's Body Gets Out of Jail - Stringbean Molders On

John Brown's body's no longer moldering in prison.

After 40 years, people have forgotten about a pair of Stringbeans.

What...you ask, am I talking about?

The couple on the left, David Akeman (aka "Stringbean") and his wife, and the guy who just got paroled:

Since my book, "Who's Who in Comedy," is about the only reference work that tells the tale, I'll quote from it:

After joining the Grand Ole Opry in 1942 he began to record tunes such as "I Wonder Where Wanda Went" along with albums that mostly featured his straight banjo picking. He developed into a memorable comedian. He looked the part -- tall and thin with a sadsack expression -- but accentuated it by wearing a pair of pants that couldn't go up past his thighs. That's where he belted them -- his long shirt dragging down to his thighs and tucked into the dwarfed pants.

He developed a nationwide audience on "Hee-Haw." Then Stringbean's career was cut short in one night of brutality. Following a performance at The Grand Ole Opry, he and his 59 year-old wife Estelle came home to discover two burglars in the house. They had been waiting for them. They had even listened to WSM and heard Stringbean perform that evening on the radio. What they were after was the thousands in cash they heard he kept at home instead of the bank. In the struggle that followed, the comedian was shot dead. Estelle ran but was caught before she could even get past the lawn of her own home. On her hands and knees, pleading for her life, Estelle was shot three times and left face down in the grass.

The killers, a pair of young cousins named Brown, fled with whatever they could carry. They didn't find the money in the house. They also missed the $3,000 Stringbean had in a pocket of his pants and a packet containing $2,000 Estelle had tucked away in her brassiere.

That was 1973. And now? "Never say never" on a prison sentence. (Hear that, Mark David Chapman? Son of Sam?) Who knows, maybe John Brown's been a model prisoner and is now deemed too old (64) to cause a lot of ruckus. Set him loose so some young wild animal can have a longer stay.

Country singer Jean Shepard (not late comedian Jean Shepherd) complained, "Why should they turn him loose? He cold-bloodedly killed two friends of ours." With no surviving children to appear in front of a parole board, the case for Stringbean's killer to remain in jail was left to a dwindling group of old friends. In 2011, it was Jan Howard who made a successful plea to keep Brown behind bars. But this time? The parole board voted 4-3 for his release, and it doesn't look like any letter-writing campaign (which some of Stringbean's old friends are suggesting) will do much. "I'm sure the Lord will forgive him," Jean Shepard says. "I don't think any of us will."

These days, we know "Mr. Bean" and Orson Bean...and it's only some comedy collectors and elderly country music fans who remember Stringbean.

Ice the Bucket...it's CROTCH GRABBING FOR CHARITY

Every time I hear "Hugh Jackman" I think, "Huge Jackass." Or "Huge Jackoff."

That's just his stupid name; nothing personal. I never paid him much attention since I don't like childish "action" movies, Broadway musical crap, or actors that the average housewife will watch no matter how lousy the script.

Now he's calling attention to himself with the "crotch grab," which as we all remember, was pioneered by psychotic child-molester and pedophile Michael Jackson. It was then stolen and re-used by the foul Bieber, the snottiest brat on the planet.

Should we be happy it's being rescued by handsome Hugh? And Ricky Eversmirk Gervais? And some other absolutely vain, self-promoting dickheads?

Oh, no no no NO NO NO, NO, Mr. Sense, Ms. Decorum, Mrs. Taste, you hush yo' mouths.

You see, this vulgarity is for A GOOD CAUSE. It's in the rule book. Julian Assange would tell you. It's embroidered in the panties that the CEO of Google wears. It's this: "Vulgarity, Pornography, Copyright Abuse, Shameless Self-Promotion and Prurient Interest are ALL ACCEPTABLE if IT'S FOR CHARITY." PS, it's also acceptable if it makes money.

Nevermind that testicular cancer often turns up too late for anything to be done. But as long as you're all as rich as Hugh Jackman, go in and get tested every month. If you're on a government plan...well, who wouldn't want a Pakistani with a diploma grinded out of an HP printer groping your privates? Who wouldn't be confident that he knows what he's doing?

The point isn't really "awareness" of testicular cancer, as much as it is...pictures of self-promoting morons grabbing their crotches as an easy way to get publicity for themselves.

OK, Mom and Dad, explain to your kids why THIS picture is being cheered all over the Internet, but why they shouldn't duplicate it in school...

Fasten your seat belts...a bunch of obnoxious male celebrities, mostly D-listers, will be dropping their pants, even their underwear, to try and compete for prime newspaper and Internet web page space.

THEY WILL ALL be smiling, or sexily glaring, or otherwise wearing the opposite expression to one diagnosed with testicular cancer. Hey, it's ALL good. Now wait for "Menstrual Awareness Month," "Bulemia Is Bad," and "It Might Not Just be Diarrhea." In other words, you'll be seeing a whole lot more of Kim Kardashian.

The "Andy Kaufman Alive" Story that Won't DIE

DIE already. DIE. Leave it to the New York Post to huckster a new book with this provocative headline:

We're supposed to forgive Bob Zmuda for this tasteless game-playing because hoaxing is in the spirit of Andy Kaufman?

Right, so is not being funny.

Andy Kaufman was a great comedian...if you didn't have to see him. It's hilarious to hear how he did his laundry on stage. Stood there and spoke gibberish. Got into rages and ended up getting wrestled to the ground by women who were too big for him to handle. Yeah, he was loaded with "zany" antics.

Let's not forget the Tony Clifton bit. He'd act like a crappy lounge singer and insist he WAS a crappy lounge singer. He'd never break character. Wow, what a vision the man had.

Let's remember he had a bit of the Steve Martin "wild and crazy guy" vibe...there was anti-comedy in the air. It's just that nobody fouled the air quite like Kaufman.

If you were paying to sit in a dirty nightclub where you were being pestered by a waitress to drink up the minimum and keep going...you would've walked out on this guy 10 seconds after be began to lip-sync to the theme for "Mighty Mouse" cartoons.

He was, in a word, an asshole.

OK, a vulnerable, lovable asshole. Maybe. But still an asshole. A mutation on the world of the neurotic Jewish desperate-for-attention comic. But really, enough is enough.

Not too long ago, some idiot relative of Kaufman had the nerve to float the "Andy is Alive" stuff again, and eventually apologized. Now?

Now there's a BOOK. So let's flog this over again.

Toward the end of the New York Post;s happy shilling for the book, we come to the real deal.

The book does include the "alternate" theory is that Kaufman is dead. Well, yes. Because he is. You don't fool the L.A. coroner. A comedian/asshole is not going to have the skills to find a "similar body" and make it seem like his. There's such a thing as fingerprints and dental records.

Space is given to the proposal that Kaufman is dead...BUT...and here's another selling point...he was bi-sexual.

Oooh! The gays can claim ANOTHER celebrity! Come on gays, go out there and buy the book! You're an affluent lot. Read all about it.

Andy was a weirdo and a misogynist, so nobody would be surprised he paid for whores whenever he was in Vegas. He lacked the skills to have a decent relationship with a woman, and probably preferred throwing down money to do what he wanted and leave.

The story here is he was also prone to picking up men (not that there's anything wrong with that). We're told the public hasn't heard this before, because Andy never wanted his parents to find out his secret. Now that they're dead, this fact could be included in the book. Ok.

The big deal in this latest attempt at keeping the great Andy Kaufman legacy in front of us, (aside from the silly "he's not dead" stuff) is that if he died, it was of AIDS, and not cancer. So now he can be a martyr that gays can get behind.

The fact is, nobody dies of AIDS. Right? They die of symptoms caused by the AIDS virus, which affects the immune system. I've unfortunately seen quite a few AIDS patients sitting in hospital beds with carcinomas and hideous skin conditions. So yes, it's entirely possible that Kaufman died of cancer, at a very young age, not because he smoked, but because he had unprotected gay sex.

I suppose another bit of spin-doctoring would be to call him a "performance artist" now, and not a comedian. It's trendier, and it's more truthful. A "performance artist" doesn't necessarily have to get laughs. And if he doesn't, he has an excuse. He's not a comedian.

Bottom line and bitter end: Andy Kauffman is still dead.

And that's tragic.

So were his attempts at being funny.

DUMBTH and the PIGRANT

Steve Allen was an American talk-show host, comedian, and a TV personality. That last term refers to a raconteur who could turn up most anywhere...an awards show, quiz show or most any event that might need a witty, light-hearted host or guest.

Steve also made films, wrote music and musicals, appeared on stage and, wrote a LOT of books. One of them was this one.

He coined a word for the dumbing down of the culture. OK, not such a clever word, but a useful one. That it hasn't become as famous as "fap" or "twerk" isn't too surprising. If it's used at all, it's prefaced by "Steve Allen called it..."

One of the kindest of men, he, like Joan Rivers, had a surprising, swift death. You could argue it was the best kind...you go quick and painlessly. Like Joan, Steve could've survived to senility, infirmity or worse. You wonder if, ultimately, his demise was for the best. In his case, he got bumped by a car. The driver was of course shocked, and sorry it was THE famous Steve Allen, but Steve apparently waved it off as nothing serious. A while later, he went to his son's house, decided to lie down and rest...and he died.

Steve had no idea he had suffered some kind of internal hemorrhage and was literally bleeding to death on the inside.

He was becoming more conservative in his old age, and if he was around now, wouldn't he have coined MORE words besides DUMBTH? I think so. How would Steve have characterized DUMBTH's stupid, obnoxious cousin? As a PIGRANT?

That's a person who is a combination of arrogance and pig-headed self-entitlement.

We see that a lot now. The PIGRANT is not just a pig, and not just arrogant...as an alloy of both, he or she is proud of it. There's an ego to it. You might tell off someone arrogant and they might shut up. You might even be able to put a self-entitled pig in his place. But the PIGRANT? The PIGRANT will get in your face as if he's defending the second amendment. He's got a RIGHT not only to his opinions, but to be rude and insulting, too.

He'll push is way to the front of the line and point a finger and say, "I've got things to do, buddy...YOU can wait." He'll yell at the waiter or waitress because HE is a customer and HE is always right. He'll talk over the actors in the theater or on the screen because what he's saying is obviously more important or otherwise he'd be paying attention.

Randy Newman characterized the PIGRANT in his song "My Life is Good," and Saturday Night Live once had a series of sketches featuring two PIGRANTS, who were simply called "Two A'Holes." But A'holes is pretty general, as is "douchebags" or "Yuppie scum." After all, the PIGRANT can be a 7 year-old brat as easily as a 30-something Master of his Own Domain. The PIGRANT can reply to your request for manners with an incredulous, "What-ever" or a Jersey Shore "Tough!" or a jeering "You can NOT be SERIOUS." The important thing is to let you know that for whatever reason...money, fame, social "class" or just plain selfish entitlement, you must GRANT the PIG whatever he or she wants, and bow to the PIGRANT while you do it.

And yes, this applies to the superior-thinking atheist, the wild-eyed radical Islam loon, or a member of the Chosen People. They can ALL be PIGRANTS. Oy oy OINK.

OF ROSH HASHANAH AND GROUCHO MARX

Here's the start of the Jewish holidays...notably the New Year (Rosh Hashanah, where kids happily take time off school) and the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur, when adults "atone" for their sins. Or at least feel more depressed than usual).

Some less observant Jews (ones who need to wear glasses) ask, "what ARE we supposed to do on this date? Buy a plant and something that looks like a lemon?" For Christians, it's a time to envy Jews taking days off, or just be anti-semitic about Jews in general and Israel in particular (as in, "If there wasn't any Israel…ooh, all our problems would be solved." As if a Muslim-run Israel would allow Christians to view the Holy Land.)

I was thinking about Groucho Marx, and his famous line about the "restricted" health club that wouldn't admit him or Melinda: "My daughter's only half Jewish, can she wade in up to her knees?"

Let's remember something about that line. It's funny, but it's not: even after the ovens of Auschwitz and "Never Again," Jews were being routinely maligned and humiliated in daily life. Groucho Marx, George Burns, Danny Kaye, Jack Benny and the others…were members of Hillcrest, because as famous as they were…they were JEWS. As in, "We don't want you in OUR country club because…YOU….ARE…JEWISH." So they quietly created their own.

"No Jews Allowed." Nevermind if you're not religious, or if you're bringing smiles and laughter to millions. Nevermind if you don't even "look Jewish" (Kirk Douglas, Lauren Bacall, Lizabeth Scott...) Jew? OUT.

Jack Benny didn't perform on radio if it was Yom Kippur, but he said it was because he didn't want Gentiles to think he wasn't respecting his religion. He was making a social point. But he couldn't do much about being denied membership in some damn country club that was "restricted." He chose not to toss a Yiddish phrase into his comedy or make a point of his Judaism. He tried to rise above anti-semitism.

Today? Today we face the worst anti-semitism since Hitler. If you've been reading the Simon Weisenthal Center's newsletter, and others who monitor the news and are "watchdogs" in areas of human rights, you'll know that violence against Jews has never "gone away." It just hasn't been reported in the mainstream press as often as crimes against other races or religions. It's rare when a name like Yankel Rosenbaum or Leon Klinghoffer even vaguely rings a bell...a tolling bell for the deceased. During a a new scuffle in the Middle East...reporters sometimes can get a story through...about kids tormented on a bus, shopkeepers dealing with broken windows, or tombstones overturned. Otherwise...oh, somebody using Hitler in a TV commercial, or there's Nazi memorabilia for sale, or a bull ring in Spain has signs that insult Jews...oh well. Let's try and ignore it and maybe it'll go away.

Despite the constant abuse, the Jewish response has not been terrorism or rioting. Perhaps, inborn after all these centuries, Jews simply accept that this is the burden of being "The Chosen People." Yes, as arrogant or foolish as that phrase might seem to Christians, what it really is, as far as the average not-very-religious Jew is concerned, is just a way of coping. In that sense, it's no different than the 60's declaration "Black is Beautiful." Humor has been another way. Groucho made a joke out of being denied membership in a country club. He could've sued. He could've pointed out this injustice at a news conference. He could've showed up with a mob and demanded entrance to that club under threat of breaking down the doors. He didn't. Neither did Burns, Benny, Jessel or the others. The only fight has come from Israel...which has been vilified as genocidal and apartheid...the only nation on Earth to be boycotted as 100% wrong and evil. "Defend yourselves? You have a lot of nerve! Why don't you people stop being Jewish and just get along with everyone?"

But once again the Jews are celebrating the holidays…some doing little more than buying the honey cake that's suddenly available at the supermarket, or the Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray on sale. In the midst of hopes for a good new year, and all the rest, we should remember Groucho's line about his daughter. And after we laugh, and the smile subsides into a grim line, we might just ponder the two words…the vital two words…"Never Again."

NEIL YOUNG MOVES ON...to Daryl Hannah

A month after filing for divorce from his wife, Neil Young visits SEA WORLD with new love, DARYL HANNAH...

Photo Fun Babylon

JOAN RIVERS

My thanks to the original artists for their unknowing contributions here.

Joan was one of the first celebrities I interviewed (for "Writer's Digest" 1978...her discussion on writing jokes and the screenplay for "Rabbit Test").

I'm not sure why any reasonable adults didn't know that "Joan Rivers" was a character...and that when she didn't have a microphone shoved at her and wasn't expected to say something outrageous...she was one of the kindest and most sensitive women on the planet...a true "lady." She worked for so many charities, but also, if you were opposite her, she cared about YOU.

MY CARD...Have Disposable Income? Will Swindle....

Once upon a time, saying "My card..." was a classy way of introducing yourself.

If your card said: "HAVE GUN WILL TRAVEL...WIRE PALADIN," even better. Pretty intimidating, huh?

Now every moron has a card because an outfit called Vistaprint has blitzed TV with ads, covered the Internet with come-ons, and somehow convinced the world that in this ephemeral age of the Internet and email and blips of mp3 files...carrying around cheap paper cards IMPRESSES people.

Instead of saying "you can find me on TWITTER or FACEBOOK" (which seems to be the catch-phrase of the cretin), you're supposed to say, "My CARD, sir..."

And this insanity has spread to include THIS garbage:

The idea is you're supposed to collect, revere and worship cards that peculiar-looking people have scribbled on.

I think they scribble their names, but you can't be sure. Some seem to be hieroglyphics, or copies of their neck tattoos, or maybe they squashed a bug that got onto the card.

Whatever, these things are supposed to be worth $7.99 or $39.95 or $150 or even more...depending on which outlandish sci-fi show is involved, what grotesque make-up is on display, or how much wardrobe is malfunctioning.

While musicians fume over no CD sales and the free downloading of music files, and while authors rage at the bootlegging of their books through Kindle and PDFs, and while TV shows and movies gush from torrents as MKV and AVI files or stream from Netflix like urine from an elephant...CARDS are COLLECTIBLE.

You can scan cards and stick 'em on an iPad. You can pull 10,000 jpgs of eBay ads and store 'em on a cellphone. You could print them out and tuck them into your Depends or sanitary napkin belt, where they'd at least serve a purpose for a while. Why the HELL spend MONEY to have these ACTUAL CARDS???

It can't be the autographs, because people don't even collect that crap anymore. Celebrities tell me it's no longer, "please sign this," it's "Hold on, let's take a SELFIE together" or "Wait a minute, while I toss my cellphone to my friend...ready? One two three SMILE!"

Like Beanie Babies and Burkas, nose rings and thong underwear, pumpkin lattes and fried Twinkies...you just never know what's going to break through the great Digital Divide between what can be copied and stored and what must be bought and worshipped.

I do learn from watching the mass hypnotism that leads to fad appeal...whether it's rubber spiders that you throw against a wall and watch "walk downward" or these "stars from forgettable TV shows and movies" staring out from a cardboard rectangle.

So...here is what I'm going to do when I order my business cards from Vistaprint: I will NOT give them away FREE. I will autograph them with a special squiggle, and have printed on the back: "You are the lucky owner of an actual original limited edition Ronald L. Smith business card..." and say, "That'll be TEN BUCKS, please." And I'll get it! Especially if I add, "Look, on EBAY they're doing for TWENTY!"

"Hey MOE...the kid wants a PIE...Give it to him!"

What would you do if you were on line, suffering the misery of a brat screaming "I want fucking PIE, I want fucking PIE..."

You'd probably roll your eyes and keep suffering?

You'd walk out and give the skunk eye to the mama who was letting her brat be a nuisance?

MOE would've gotten a pie...and shoved it in the little monster's face!

BUT...since that's assault...HERE is a guy who had a good idea...and the money to execute his revenge:

The full story? The guy deleted it...no doubt worried about getting tracked down by the angry mama, who probably has the tracking skills of a wolverine...and the same amount of bushy black hair on her back.

Fortunately, it was saved, sans identification:

Illiterate Rats Desert The Sinking Print Ship

When high quality CD's were replaced by crappy mp3s, few were upset. And so it is, that nobody cares if full sized, detailed newspapers are replaced by a glance at the Google news page, or a quick blink at the four or five items on the NY Post or Daily News opening page. After all, what more can anyone who owns a Kindle or a tablet handle?

The hungry gannets at Gannett are eyeing full ownership of Cars.Com and will throw nearly 2 billion...while they toss their print division (USA Today...) to...who? Who in their right mind is going to buy into what everybody says is a dying business?

Rupert Murdoch tried to make people pay for the "free" news on his newspaper websites. That didn't work. He couldn't get enough banner ads to make money, either. What Steve Allen called "Dumbth" is the word of the day. The culture is speeding up and dumbing down. Nobody wants to read very much...only what fits on a tiny screen while riding the subway. Want to know about the latest in Gaza? Go to Facebook or Twitter. Somebody will be saying, "Israel is a genocidal state" and somebody will be saying "Israel must be free to exist," and you can leave your quick comment. Who needs more?

Want to check the obituaries? Google has a page that lists who died. You get the name, the claim to fame, and the age. Who needs more?

Right now there are people who only know "text speak." R U 1? They can't write a coherent paragraph. At best, they can plagiarize one off the Internet to hand to a teacher or a boss. Many don't know what cursive writing is (no, it's not rap lyrics). Many have trouble signing their name because they don't use a pen very often.

Bookstores have been closing as fast as record stores did, and the ones that survive do it by selling pricey coffee, and offering that are called "Graphic Novels," ie, over-inflated comic books for morons who need to see a picture for everything. Or better yet, just wait for that "Graphic Novel" to be converted into a movie, because it's essentially just a story board anyway.

Nobody's friend Mort Sahl (iconoclast that he is) once said that USA Today was "Egg McPaper." How much DUMBTH do we have, when even this ridiculous newspaper, which exists primarily on hotel food trays, can't sustain a built-in audience?

While one doesn't want to enter fogeyhood, and grumble that every newfangled invention is bad, the loss of the traditional newspaper is NOT a good thing. The disappearance of the traditional half hour it takes to peruse a newspaper to learn all that's going on in one's city, if not the world...is NOT a good thing. Especially if the alternative is wasting that time texting, sexting, Tweeting, leaving smug and stupid comments on Facebook, or posting selfies. What do you see on the bus or subway? People reading newspapers...or sitting and squinting, hunched over their little idiot screens?

There just ain't no "paradigm," that seems able to turn this around. Newspapers are getting more expensive. They put more and more of their energy on "look who didn't shave her armpit well enough" and "guess which hottie is in this thong" photo pages on their websites. The inevitable spiral will continue...since God only knows, the Christian Science Monitor was actually one of the FIRST to murder its print version and go "Internet only."

The future might be one newspaper...The Sunday New York Times...sunday only. But the traditional morning spent swapping different sections of the Times while feasting on bagels, lox, cream cheese, scrambled eggs, pancakes, orange juice...nah. Plug in the laptop at Starbucks, spend $7 on a cup of coffee...and after a quick scan of who had a wardrobe malfunction and what bad boy Bieber did last night...courtesy of the NY Post...you've got all the news you need.

Suicide jokes? Har har har! Uh, too soon?

Would-be comedian. Armchair yukster. You see this type everywhere. If he isn't stereotypical, and wearing a loud shirt and carrying a joy buzzer in his palm, he's much harder to avoid. He could be the co-worker who suddenly startles you with, "Watch out! Dog shit in front of you!" And when you stop, startled, he bawls with laughter and cries "Gotcha!" Or, he tells you in dead seriousness, "Obama was just shot in the head." And when you say "Oh no..." he glowers at you and says, "You fell for that? Don't you know what DAY it is?" Oh, April 1st. Fun-neeee?

Speaking of death, Len Belzer died a few days ago. He was known to a lot of people in the comedy world through his syndicated radio series. He interviewed comedians and broadcast the best comedy routines around. When his suicide death was announced in the papers, most of the headlines slanted it as: "Richard Belzer's brother dies." Either way, Len's suicide was quickly turned into a joke by every Internet Kenny Bania...all those guys who are convinced they could be making Dane Clark's money if...if they didn't have to be Dad's junior partner working at hedge funds or doing plumbing repair, or whatever they do.

The would-be comedian, whether annoying strangers on the street or posting to the Internet, is happy to adopt a murderously deadpan style. This was learned from such heroes as Jerry Lewis lecturing on what's funny, or Burt Reynolds doing Jonathan Winters while glaring at Carson. Or Russell Brand intimidating Letterman. The idea is to shake it up, and if nobody laughs, "shpritz" with a scornful, "You don't get it?" or, if it's the typically tasteless joke after a tragedy, a winking, "Too soon?"

I once asked Steve Allen if there were topics "of which no jest can be made." Poe seemed to think so. No "Red Death" jokes for Eddy! Steve replied, "No, there's nothing that you can't make a joke out of. It's just a case of whether you should."

Sick jokes can be therapeutic. The idea is to show the Grim Reaper that he's not intimidating whoever is still alive. But too often, sick jokes are spawned by obnoxious pretenders who think they're Howard Stern or Gilbert Gottfried or Trumph the Insult Comic Dog. The thrill of being the impudent class clown...is too hard to resist. Nevermind that Stern, Gilbert, Triumph (Rickles, Rivers, Maher, etc.) are professionals. The would-be comedian ignores the "don't try this at home" warning.

Instead he deadpans something nasty to an aghast co-worker...and seem to get the same satisfaction from his aggression as a rapist. It's not pleasure. It's dominating somebody else. As this social leper usually has people fleeing from the sight of him, he'll hurry to an Internet forum to be the first with a cringeworthy (not laugh-worthy) remark. He wants to hear: "I just threw up a little in my mouth!" or "ROFLAO," and if the clobbering quip only gets an insult, he's ready with the sarcastic reply of: "Too SOON?"

The death of a comedian, or somebody in the comedy business...seems to incite a slew of LAFF RIOT attempts at slaying the reader. Len Belzer...a suicide...throwing himself from his home on West 94th Street...why, that's a set-up too GOOD for some to resist:

The Pam Anderson "BIKINI MALFUNCTION"

This is just sad, on so many levels. Women are so stupid?? They can't wear clothes anymore without falling out of them?

When was the last time a guy got out of a limo with his junk hanging out? How come guys never seem to accidentally lose their underwear in public or have their pants fall down?

Here's Pam Anderson doing what she does best...being half-naked in public.

What the "censorship" is all about, I don't know. Everybody has an ass crack. Pam's has been seen many, many times in many "lad mags" and men's mags. This only makes her seem like she has an enormous asshole. And she doesn't...she divorced Rick some time ago.

Conspiracy theorists may choose to believe that Pam is a smart woman and just does these things to let people know she's still around, even if she's not making movies. Or...worse conspiracy...the manufacturers of these things deliberately make them badly to embarrass women!

What's sad and pathetic is that so-called "news" websites publish this stuff, and encourage abuse. They pay the obnoxious paparazzi to follow women around and literally crawl up their behinds for a photo op.

I feel badly for Pam. She has a good heart and her work with PETA is proof of that.

Wardrobe malfunction, "bikini malfunction," etc. etc. -- isn't time manufacturers of women's clothing get taken to task for this? I hope Pam sues the bikini company that caused this! $100,000 per cheek. Another $50,000 for the crack. A half million bucks! Why not? I'm sure she'd donate a hunk of it to PETA: Pam's Ethical Tits & Ass.

CBS is BRIBED to Keep STEPHEN COLBERT in NYC

This is the oh-so-funny Stephen Colbert. Oooh, he raised his EYEBROW...

You really want to see THIS guy every night instead of David Letterman?

You do if you think anyone named Sedaris is funny. If you listen to NPR a lot. Still go to James Taylor concerts. Miss Jim Croce a lot. Have dust ruffles on your bed. Consider Bareburger to be healthy food. Care if your socks match your tie. Make a six figure salary. Solemnly believe Tavis Smiley is keepin' the faith. Have your maid or handyman go down to be YOU and serve on jury duty. Refuse to eat an apricot if it isn't organic....

Colbert, who is not likely to get as good ratings as Letterman did, was making rumbling noises about taking his show out of New York City. So what did Governor Cuomo do? He began trembling like Al Pacino in "Dog Day Afternoon," and in that hoarse, high-pitched voice of his, shrieked "All right, all right," and came up with bonuses and incentives...to PAY CBS to stay.

Nobody does this for you. What if you told your City Council member, "Guess what, I'm leaving Manhattan. What do you offer for me to stay?"

Broadway theaters are all packed. There's no shortage of sexually peculiar rich people waiting to lose their money in a flop, just for the glory of having a loved one, or hooker, cast in a small part in the second act. The Ed Sullivan Theater doesn't need Colbert in it. But Cuomo (who did get donation money from CBS) anxiously offered the so-called Tiffany network some bucks to stay. And gee, a few union handymen will be able to charge overtime for "renovating" some part of the place. I think Dave would tell you the place ain't falling apart. But yeah, let's make sure it's just right for Colbert. Maybe some dust ruffles on every seat.

PS, Governor Cuomo, why not pay off the Daily News so they can hire some proofreaders? They are pigging out over there. Pig, as in sow...

JASON BIGGS: Comedy Is Hard. Being a dick is easy

If you don't know who Jason Biggs is...most of the planet doesn't know, either.

His great claim to fame, apparently, is acting in a few of the tasteless "American Pie" movies. A fair actor, he played a Jew even though he isn't one.

Tasteless or "sick" humor has a place in this often tasteless and "sick" world. At its best, it's a healthy reflex to most any horrible event. Tell a "sick" joke and you're saying, in essence, "I'm immune. It doesn't hurt. I'm not going to cry."

It verges on cruelty and most sick jokes aren't funny, but if humor helps heal, maybe it's not so bad. This assumes that the joke is being told by somebody known for abrasive humor (a Gilbert Gottfried perhaps) and done with some wit.

Biggs was witless today.

Lenny Bruce, after the Kennedy assassination, was expected to make some kind of flippant, irreverent remark the next time he took the stage. The audience waited. He finally said, "Poor Vaughn Meader!"

And the audience laughed. Yeah, what about the famous JFK impersonator who had scored a million selling "First Family" album??

Enter Jason Biggs, and today's news about a plane shot down by terrorists in the Ukraine. His instant Twitter joke:

"Anyone wanna buy my Malaysian Arlines frequent flier miles?"

Anything funny about that?

No. Biggs may be able to recite stupid lines in some smelly movie where everyone's waiting for the next dopey bad-taste joke. But can he write a funny line?

When he instantly got the scorn he deserved, he flipped out and blamed the audience:

"Hey all you too soon assholes, it's a fucking joke. You don't have to think it's funny, or even be on my twitter page at all."

A fucking joke is, most important, supposed to be funny. That's where Jason failed.

I asked Steve Allen once, in referring to a line in a Poe story, 'Is there really a subject "of which no jest can be made?'"

And he said, "No, you can make a joke about anything. The question is whether you should." And, I might add, whether it's a joke in the first place.

Jason merely continued to get redder and redder in the ass, sulking and raging about how he had empathy for the victims (as if that was obvious from his crappy ad-lib?).

The bottom line IS that comedy is hard. Every day real stand-up comics, real comedy writers, make choices involving self-censorship. Sometimes they go for a line that's over the edge...and it works. Sometimes it gets silence or even boos. They are pro enough to know that they just might've made a mistake. Amateurs just keep on ranting as the flop sweat puddles the floor. They make themselves look more desperate and delusional. Biggs could've said, "Sorry...I knocked out a line a little too fast and should've bounced it off a few people first..." But his ego got the better of him. In other words, sometimes fucking an apple pie can be funny...but more likely if it's up on a screen in a film and not at the next table at Applebee's. And some actors are best when they read what's on the cue card and don't try to ad-lib.

"Killing Archie" for Fun and Profit

The big news in the world of Comic Conjobs, is that beloved dork Archie Andrews...is dead.

That's what happens when you're a white guy living in the slowly deteriorating Riverdale section? No no no, let's not go there, girlfriend. Archie, who failed as a radio show and never really blossomed into a hit TV show or movie, is being killed off for a much more fashionable reason:

He took a BULLET for a GAY friend.

Killing blacks? Doesn't happen anymore. Killing Latinos? Doesn't happen anymore. Killing some little old Chinese or some guy from New Delhi who looks like he could be Muslim? No. Assassins target GAYS. So now the corporate owners of "Archie" want to "make a statement."

The statement is really: "Nobody's buying Archie anymore." Followed by: "Let's goose sales, like when they turned Green Lantern queer..."

I have no idea if this is actually the end of Archie (a comic book I only read at a doctor's office or barber shop when all the good stuff was stolen). Is this just a cynical trick, and he'll be brought back in a few months via "Retro Archie," his adventures B.C. (before crassness?). Or will they pull the old "he didn't really die, it was a dream" game? Frankly, I don't care that much. I outgrew comics long ago (after a brief fling with Zap and Insect Fear and the rest of the underground stuff). But it's interesting to see how cynical and cutthroat the world of "Comic Con" has become.

I'm in the minority. I don't buy "graphic novels" or comic books. I almost never take a nostalgic look at the small box of them I still have. It seems most people don't grow up. They refuse to leave their childhood crap behind. The only movies that seem to make money in this age of piracy and cynicism involve super heroes or ridiculous sword-and-sandal fantasy. Listen, I'm such a minority that Archie could've died taking a bullet for ME.

I was surprised to know they were still making Archie comics. But I also haven't kept up with Superman's problems. I lost touch after it was announced he was no longer allergic to kryptonite. You might as well tell me "Green Arrow is secretly married to Green Lantern." You could tell me The Metal Men are still around, but Tin had a sex change and went Platinum.

The "creators" (who didn't create Archie but just inherited him) insist they wanted to do something with social relevance (!) and "impact." And what better thing to do than play the GAY CARD. Why, for example, make a statement about women? NO NO NO NO, we can't have Archie take a bullet because Betty was slipped a drug and about to be date-raped by Jughead.

What next? The Fantastic Four's "Thing" moves from orange to the new BLACK and tells the world he was African all along? When will somebody decide that Batman and Robin are an item, and that we must understand that teenage boys have needs and NAMBLA is a fine organization? How about Superman literally blows Israel off the map because a) nobody in comic book land is Jewish anymore and b) Comic Con wants to have a convention in Dubai next year?

Times change. They get worse. Once upon a time, a failing comic strip, comic book or magazine put out a "goodbye" issue and gracefully died. Not so in the comic book world. Here, if you're aging and frail, you're injected with "relevance" and your death becomes a "statement." Sort of like if grandpa is terminal at the hospice...you put a "Let's End Elderly Abuse" t-shirt on him and throw him out a window. You know...it puts the guy out of his misery, makes a "statement" and gets LOTS of publicity.

So long, Archie. And don't be surprised to see a new comic book series, "Betty and Veronica Get Married And Adopt Jughead."

No, Joan Rivers, YOU Shut up!

It's hard to tell these days of Joan Rivers is being obnoxious just to promote herself as "the mad diva," (to paraphrase the title of her latest book).

Within 48 hours, she's trashed the president, the first lady, and anyone against cruelty toward animals.

Worse, she's done all of it without any sense of humor. I love Joan, I admire her, and it's sad to see her not just bombing with ad-libs but with lines that just aren't even smart.

Not that I would ever expect her to apologize. Lenny Bruce told her years ago, "They're wrong and you're right." I just hope she learns that it's not necessary to try and ad-lib a funny comment every time some pimply kid from TMZ shoves a $129 camcorder at her.

The fur gaffe happened during a cable TV interview. She was asked about why she wears fur.

Her ad-lib: "Are you wearing leather shoes? THEN SHUT UP!"

If there's anything that pisses off an animal rights activist or a vegetarian, it's that obnoxious comeback: "Are you wearing leather shoes?"

First off, here's no excuse to wear fur. We're talking about killing, often via slow death, foxes, ocelots, leopards and other endangered species nobody eats for food. What's this have to do with leather? Listen, you want to torture a cow with a prod up its ass and then eat it? Save me the skin. There hasn't yet been a good substitute for leather, but you don't eat fox and almost nobody eats rabbit. Fur is vanity. Fake fur looks damn real. So spare me the "you wear leather shoes" snottiness.

Now about that squelch at the end: "THEN SHUT UP!"

No, Joan. Can we talk? You're not Little Richard, and "SHUT UP" is not funny.

Saying "Shut Up" fortunately doesn't end any debate on the cruelty and stupidity of wearing fur or of hunting and killing animals for sport.

When Joan says Bo Derek is so dumb she saw the sign "Wet Floor" and did...that doesn't really hurt Bo Derek. Putting a bullet into a rabbit, knocking a bird out of the sky, or firing a can't-miss rifle at a leopard to have a trophy...that hurts. You ever see an animal cry out and writhe in agony, Joan? Take a look at some PETA videos and THEN put on your fucking fur coat.

24 hours earlier, Joan made waves for a witless ad-lib against the President and his wife.

I think Joan is a Republican. I don't think she likes Obama anyway. But in response to some fool from TMZ, she ad-libbed: "The President is gay..." and his wife "is a tranny."

The reporter said, "Tranny??"

Joan shouted, "Transgender!"

This wasn't respectful, but more importantly, it just wasn't funny.

Again, I love Joan. I also was a fan of Sam Kinison. It's a matter of personal taste if 1 joke in 100 goes over the line. But it's getting to be a habit with Joan. Please, if you think you have to come up with something ANY time you're asked a question, go to some prepared material, or just do some Don Rickles-type nonsense and say "You're a hockey puck."

It hasn't been a good July 4th Weekend for Joan Rivers, and I hope she gets some rest and takes a page out of some old Steve Allen book. I once asked Steve if there was any subject that was beyond joking about. He said, "No...you can joke about anything. The question is whether you should." In other words, you can think up a hilariously tasteless remark at a funeral...but it might be wise to keep it to yourself.

Maybe Joan can come up with some hilarious reason for wearing dead animals, but "Are you wearing leather shoes? Then Shut Up" ain't it.