Please send a play I won't read.

You know who are surprisingly disappointing people? The Artistic Directors of Theaters. You would think that anyone in such an exalted role would have an appreciation of playwrights. But often they don't. I would say that 80% of Artistic Directors lack follow through. In costly publications like Writer's Digest and the publication shown here, they request the submission of new plays along with a bio and resume. Often they want only ten pages of dialog, a synopsis of the play, and a breakdown of characters and set. Rarely will they accept e-mailed submissions, so the not always prosperous playwright has to assemble this package, schlepp to the post office, pay the high cost of postage, including the requested Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope for the return letter which almost never comes. I have sent out major mailings of my two musicals and my one serious play. Out of about 80 submissions for each, I have received no more than ten replies per submission and, of those, only about five gave me any constructive criticism or encouragement. The others were form letters. Especially rude was Miami, where I live. No play I ever sent was read, no response received, and any telephone calls were cleverly evaded. I recently wrote to a local theater who had twice promised to read my play and twice failed to do so.. I wrote to the Artistic Director after two-years, pointing out that he had now had enough time to give me some input. That was weeks ago. The coward never answered. I am sure they feel overwhelmed with the alleged volume of submissions, which is ridiculous. Anyone experienced in theater should be able to tell from the first five pages of a manuscript whether it's any good. As for responding to the author. How difficult is that. Let me show you something. You have sent me a play called The Last Horsie. I have just read ten pages. It is drek. But you took the trouble to send it and you included a response envelope. So here is a letter I am making up right now. This note took a minute out of my life. Who are these Artistic Directors who can't give sincere writers a minute?

"Dear Author, Thank you so much for letting me read The Last Horsie. Unfortunately it does not meet our needs. I found your premise about a cowboy being fired by the film studio when his more popular horse died very amusing. I wish you luck with this and future projects."

Who hired this woman?

In the "I don't get it" department, here's something that has always mystified me. A doctor deals with the sick. The sick are often fearful and in need of an encouraging word. Yet often the first person you speak with is a cranky, cold, abrupt appointment secretary. After having a series of migraines, I called a neurologist's office today. After the phone rang about five times, it was answered with an breathy, annoyed, "Hold the line, please." After another minute or so, I got an impatient, "Can I help you." When I told her I wanted to make an appointment, I got the feeling that it was a great inconvenience. And because it was she asked her series of questions with a tone that suggested I might actually lie to her about my birth date, social security number or address. Once she had all the required information, she seemed delighted to tell me that first appointment was almost a month away. When I expressed disappointment, she delighted in pointing out, "That's the first appointment we have." I did get her to reluctantly agree to notify me of any cancellation. This exchange was surprising because it wasn't surprising. I have not found it unusual to have doctor's receptionists with absolutely no bedside manner. It's also true that most first-contact staff members are warm and polite. Anyway, while people can be rude in any social circumstance, I think being crabby when making an appointment for a new patient is particularly egregious. Does she do this every day?

The joy of negative thinking.

I love to criticize. What could be more fun than pointing out the flaws in a program, a philosphy, a particularly unlikeable person? What I don't like is being tagged as super-critical. I praise as much as I carp, but nobody seems to remember that. I can recall encouraging coworkers to see this movie or catch this play or TV event. They never did, of course, but when I mentioned a movie I didn't like, most of them chorused, "You don't like anything." I mention this because when I make criticisms on HuffPost, I am always surprised at the posters who are outraged and take any comments personally. They seem very eager to vilify me and it is obvious they can't deal with any difference of opinion. Most amusing is that they launch very nasty attacks without realizing that they themselves are being critical of me being critical of something dear to them, always with the attitude that criticism is bad. I suppose I could take a more positive approach to everything. But tell the truth, would you want to read a blog that's nothing but thumbs-up valentines? I sure as hell wouldn't.

Anything else I can do for you, Martha?

About a month ago I purchased Martha Stewart paint at Home Depot. Though it was costly ($27 a gallon) I felt it was not very good and peeled easily. I wrote a letter of complaint to Martha Stewart and to Home Depot. Home Depot promptly sent a letter of apology and a gift coupon. Very nice of them. I had given up on ever getting a reply from Martha Stewart, but I did get one today. I wonder if you'll find it as absurd a demand as I do:

Thank you for contacting Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia.

We are sorry you experienced a problem with Martha Stewart Living brand at The Home Depot.

In order to assist you, we kindly request that you provide the information below.

Would you please provide:

Your name
Your mailing address (including city, state and zip)
Your email address
Your phone number
The price paid per gallon
How many of gallons of paint purchased
Approximate date of purchase
The colors(s) of the paint
Please indicate exterior or interior paint
The finish of the paint (flat, eggshell, semi-gloss, high gloss)
Approximate number of square feet of area painted
Please indicate if you used a tinted primer
The problem experienced
The location of The Home Depot from which you purchased the paint (city and state)
Have you contacted The Home Depot for assistance?

We will forward your message to our team for response and resolution once we have the information above.

Please accept our apologies for the problems you encountered.

Am I hearing things?

There is a new Progressive commercial on featuring, naturally, Flo. But I don't know whether it's me, or if she has a cold or what. But I am convinced that Flo does not have Flo's voice. I'll post the commercial if it shows up on YouTube.

Tacos can be so cruel!

This is one of the latest commercials for Tums in which persons are attacked by their food. They are well directed, well acted, and thoroughly unlikeable. I don't think people with frequent heartburn—lifelong victims like me—really think of their food as attacking them so much as their stomachs being the villains. In addition, Tums do not rush immediate relief as promised but take a while to act. I feel sorry for Tums. They were the leading antacid for decades and practically became as generic a name as Kleenex. It must be hard for them to retain any kind of footing with so many excellent 24-hour antacids on the market like Tagamet and Prilosec. I think they were fine with their slogan "Tums for the tummy." Here's a somewhat related story. During a discussion with a past Creative Director I thought I was being humorous in saying that they had a new antacid for dyslexics called Smut. But he assumed I was serious and I was reluctant to tell him what a gullible nit he was so dropped the subject.

TUMS Commercial- Soft Taco

A false step for the media?

This logic totally escapes me. George Lopez, in referring to Kirstie Alley on Dancing With the Stars said she looked like a dancing pig. All right. It was an unnecessarily cruel and hurtful remark. He was taken to task for it by many in the media. So George apologized. This led all the news stations to comment that George Lopez apologized for saying Kirstie Alley looked like a dancing pig. I don't see how their frequently repeating this insult is much less offensive than him saying it in the first place. Like I say, I don't understand this logic. My personal opinion was that Kirstie Ally, whom I find to be loud and offensive and unlikeble, looked really hot in the clip I saw of that show. She also danced really well and had tons of energy for someone about to turn 60. So it seems to me everybody should have ignored Lopez's boorish comment and let Alley relish her success rather than having it overshadowed by such a stupid news item.

Marcus Bachmann

Note: I was curious to see Marcus Bachmann, but couldn't find much of him on the internet. But I did find this clip. I am not about to make any comments on it. But see what you think.

Mouths open. Brains closed.

Since there wasn't anything I wanted to blog about at the moment, I thought I would take this opportunity to remind everyone of how much I detest and despise Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin. While there are a lot of people I loathe, these two harridans take precedence. Their very presence is an insult to intelligent people everywhere. Here are two ninnies who are successful, celebrated, interviewed, quoted and enjoying far more than the 15 minutes of fame they weren't even entitled to in the first place. Of the two harpies, Sarah is the most offensive since her stupid ideas aren't even her own, but are created by some kind of invisible puppeteer who also writes her books since she could not compose a paragraph. Bachmann, to her credit, makes all her own idiotic comments, malapropisms and historical inaccuracies. I fail to understand why a person who spends her life in office bothers to have more than two dozen children, most fostered. With my suspicious mind, I assume it's for the support checks one must receive for each child. But even with the internet it is difficult to find out more about the ages and circumstances of this brood. I assume her husband, the sanctimonious Marcus Bachmann plays mommy when he's not proslytizing or counting out the questionable state funds he receives for his Christian counseling clinic. Both Marcus and Michele are religiously devoted to the eradiction of homosexuality. The moment of truth for this homophobic duet is when they discover that one or more of their children—despite brainwashing—is gay. Not wishing to attack only women, let me make a short list of detestable men in the political arena, shallow egotists with no redeeming value: Newt Gingrich, Rudy Guiliani, Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, John Boehner and his adoring hand-puppet Eric Cantor. So this post has absolutely no value except to vent vitriol, which often is of great value.

Not a breath of fresh air.

I'm very ambivalent about this commercial. I think the concept is very good, but hate the fact that they had to torture a goldfish to do it. (Yes, I do feel emphathy for goldfish.) I also detest sickeningly cue voice-overs of supposed little girls that are obviously voiced by some adult female. This is doubly annoying for the the cute spin on the word "hospital" and the idea that a child would be wise enough to equate her asthmatic condition with a fish out of water. At any rate, when this commercial is on, which is often, I change the channel since I find a sufficating fish disturbing. But it's probably very effective in reaching the people it's written for. So it's good and I really hate it. Well, I told you I was ambivalent.

Childhood Asthma - Fish

As much as I love you...

I wonder if my friends and acquaintances realize that I rarely read e-mails that have been sent to more than five people unless it is clearly an invitation. If it isn't, it is probably a collection of jokes which I don't have time for and probably won't find funny, a series of comic photos that I may find funny but don't have time for, a quiz which I am likely to fail, or a series of personal photos which only remind me of the passage of time. Not that I don't love you. It's just that I prefer a person-to-person correspondence, no matter how brief and trivial. Sorry, but we all have our peculiarities.

With the death of Elizabeth Taylor, I am sure there will be endless tributes as there should be. While most of them will celebrate her incredible beauty, HuffPost, stupidly I think, did a photo series taking her from her most beautiful to her recent states of infirmity. Why, I can't imagine. In reading comments from her fans,what surprises me are the number of people who cite as their favorite Taylor films Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Cleopatra. While the former was a depressing tour de force of acting, the latter was a complete loquacious bore redeemed only by Taylor's beauty. Even the weak Butterfield 8 was better than Cleo. But, unlike many legendary actresses, she left a large,still-watchable body of work: National Velvet, Father of the Bride, Suddenly Last Summer, Little Women, and 1944's Jane Eyre. Even her lesser efforts like The Sandpiper, The VIPs, Taming of the Shrew, and Raintree County have their loyal fans. To my mind she did her greatest acting as the outspoken Leslie Benedict in Giant and love-starved Maggie (the Cat) Pollitt in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, two films I never get tired of watching. As Maggie I think she was also at her most beautiful, but then so was Paul Newman. Pity this clip is squashed a bit as you can't fully appreciate how beyond gorgeous these talented stars were in what was also an superb film. In fact, I think it's time to watch it yet again if only to hear Elizabeth complain about "the no-neck monsters."

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Let's give that set a standing ovation.

I hate hype. I really am offended by the absurd enthusiasm required of audiences by TV shows. Jon Stewart is funny. So is Bill Maher. But do they really rate the extended, over-the-top applause that always greets them and they always pretend to find embarrassing? I just watched a clip from Dancing With the Stars in which the lushly overweight Kirstie Allie did a cha cha. While she acquitted herself admirably, it was not so spectacular that it deserved the non-stop applause and hysterical screaming of the crowd. If the audience really finds it that astonishing, why not sit quietly and watch in awe and save the applause for the end? The answer? Because somebody is holding up signs for the audience to cheer and scream and whistle and stomp their feet. It's insane. On Wheel of Fortune, each contestant must applaud with the revelation of each letter. So must Vanna. Jeopardy, an otherwise unhyped show, always begins with the uncomfortable smiles and grins of the contestants who are instructed to do so. These are variety and quiz shows. They are not a once-in-a-lifetime events of earth-shaking importance. Unless these audience members have never been out in the world, never seen electric lights, comfortable chairs, carpeted aisles and people made up to be even more attractive than they are, there is no need for this obnoxious and unnecessary exuberance. Ignore the signs. Watch the show. And shut up!

Two paws up for Fancy Feast.

Okay. Call me a sentimental slob. I love this commercial. I like the actors, the house, the music, the cat and the kitten. At least it's a positive people-being-nice- to-each-other commercial for a change. I don't really understand why he's redecorating, unless it's too make the house cat friendly, but who cares?

Fancy Feast® Cat Food Commercial - The Engagement

What, no harps?

As an atheist I am appalled by the kind of fairy tale crap most fundamentalists will believe without an ounce of proof. Now we have reached a new plateau of absurdity with the near-death experience of Colton Burpo, a young fraud with a story as idiotic as his name: that he died and went to heaven, had a few adventures and caught the last cloud home. It seems that with the help of his mother, Sonja, and some other ghost, he has "written" a book about his little getaway: Heaven is Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back. The news items don't seem to make it clear how old he is. From what I can gather he is now 11 and his revelations started when he was four and briefly died from a burst appendix. I guess it was then that his parents saw the light of heavenly profits and decided to create the fiction that little Burpy had been to heaven and, of course, back. He must have been there because he saw his miscarried nameless sister whom he had never been told about. Oh, and Gramps was there, too. But much younger of course. Asked what heaven was like the Burper had been provided with nothing but Sunday school cliches from his unimaginative Nebraskan parents. (Why is heaven always populated by white Midwesterners?) It seems, yes, the streets were actually paved with gold and—guess what?—there were pearly gates. (Interesting that gold and pearls also have value in heaven.) Naturally everybody flew around except Jesus, who apparently preferred to just levitate. And to top it all off everybody had halos or at least "lights above their heads." Another wonderful quote from the child charlatan was that heaven had many "shades and hues." And we all know how often children use the word "hues." Did I mention everyone wore white robes. This new book doesn't prove there's a heaven so much as it demonstrates this Colt's parents have seen Albert Brooks' movie Defending Your Life, and think only in terms of religious cliches of the Protestant variety (Colton didn't mention Mary). This best-selling paperback also proves, once again, that people of faith who continually fall for this kind of religious fakery are the most gullible group that has ever almost evolved since the Big Bang.

NOTE: Needless to say, the lazy news media, who have no scruples or integrity at all anymore, have fallen all over themselves to promote these godified grifters.

Get me out of here!

I think internet companies are losing millions by not having any human beings to deal with people like me. Today alone I tried to sign up for two internet services—one was Netflix—and found, as I often do, that I was at a dead end. The biggest hurdle seems to be the user name and password confusion. They either don't approve of my password or insist someone with the same e-mail address signed up before. There is no way to address that situation as there is no means of communicating. If I were able to speak to a human being—even Scotty or Cathy in India—I am sure I could have straightened out the confusion and signed up for their service but that wasn't an option. So they don't get my monthly fee or the fees of all the other luddites across the nation who need a little bit of human assistance. I am sure some of my computer-literate friends will be shaking their heads at my ineptness; others will be thinking how they went through the same thing.

How to treat older people.

The woman at the local overpriced gas station/grocery store is always happy to see me. I am not as happy to see her since she always refers to me as pappy. I assume this is the Cuban way of saying old man. And while I am old, at 68, I don't think I deserve the grandfather appellations just yet. But she is a perfect example of how people do not know how to address and communicate with older people. In fact, we over 65 are insulted on a daily basis, either wittingly or not. Every time you tell a person my age or older they are having a senior moment, you are insulting them and possibly even frightening them since one always worries about senility. Some people are deliberately cruel for whatever reasons. I had a youngish overweight friend who would often say in response to one of my beliefs, "Yes, but you're old." I always wanted to say, "Yes, but you're fat." but never did. I assume anyone reading this has a delicate ego and would not like to have their most obvious flaws pointed out to them. Age is a flaw that one can do nothing about like a weak chin, a receding hairline or being short. It shouldn't be acknowledged any more than those frequent shortcomings. I don't like for anyone to offer me a seat on the bus, proffer the senior discount or call me pappy. I don't even like older people to play that game, "What are you, about my age, 80?" Old people were young people. They still have the same mind, memories and pride. They don't need to be treated like they have moved into some kind of invisible holding area before death and need special treatment and altered conversation. Anyway that's my gripe of the day. And if you don't get what I'm trying to say, trust me, you will. And here's my poem of the day:

Of all the judgements made on me,

I am most depressed

Not by slurs said in spite,

But comments made in jest.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

All right, it's St. Patrick's Day eve and the best way to celebrate is to play Irish All the Way the song I wrote with California composer John Dusenberry. You have no excuse not to since all to have to do is click below.

http://cdbaby.com/cd/mcleanaire

"The best part of waking up..."

This commercial for 5-Hour Energy Drink suggests that their product is a good replacement for morning coffee. It, in fact, suggests that the main reason to have coffee in the morning is for quick energy. Ridiculous. To coffee lovers, like me, it's the warmth, the smell, the taste, the sheer joy of a cup of morning coffee. I don't think the pick-me-up value of a cold shot of chemical mix is a great substitute. But there are a lots of commercials like this which try to equate one thing with something far superior. The tiny container of flavored yogurt that's supposedly an ideal substitute for a slice of cheesecake. The lo-cal, chemically loaded TV dinner that thinks it's as satisfying as a full-course, multi-calorie meal. Close relatives include the high-sodium vegetable drink that's every bit as healthful as eating actual vegetables and the salad dressing that makes kids who abhor vegetables adore vegetables. Let's face it Madison Avenue thinks we're stupid. And quite often, they're right.

5-Hour Energy Commercial 2011 "I don't wanna get up..."

Wow man, that's deep.

While there is nothing wrong with this well-meaning Purina ad, it annoys me that they cite the obvious as if it were a new concept. "We believe that nature is inspiring." No kidding. What a novel idea. This is just one of many commercials for a variety of products in which the copy lines are insipid cliches presented as world-shaking philosophies. I was even asked to write lyrics to a song with the laughable title, "I Believe that Children are Our Future." Duh. And though I can't recall the advertiser, the line on a bus stand poster I've seen in Miami reads, "We believe that every story has a beginning." Talk about an awesome revelation!

"We Believe" Commercial - Purina ONE® beyOnd™

What a huge mistake.

Give me a break. A man representing the whie house and supposedly an energy expert is now on the ABC news assuring us that the 104 nuclear power plants in Ameerica and even those in California on the San Andreas fault pose no danger. This despite the nightmare what we are unfolding in Japan. Japan's backup batteries, by the way, which didn't last long enough to keep pumping in the necessary water, have twice the life of our backup batteries. Nuclear power is incredibly dangerous if not suicidal and if you think otherwise you are very naive. Even if the plant operates safety it produces radioactivity that has to be buried somewhere for a thousand years. A thousand years! If any good comes out of the terrible tragedy, no multilple tragedies, in Japan it is that we realize there is no way on earth that we can safely have nuclear power. And our recent horrors have come from natural disasters. Imagine what could happen if terrorists targeted nuclear plants.

Note: I would like to know why the California plant in this photo has to be built on prime oceanfront property. Is it so the workers can have a lovely view at lunchtime or is there some safety consideration. Or was it just plain stupidity like building the plant in the first place?

The secret power of women.

I love women. There is no doubt in my mind they are as capable, and often more capable than men at various skills. But even that is faulty thinking. There shouldn't be a comparison. Women should make the same salaries as men, be given the same opportunities, afforded the same respect. Which isn't to say I don't have some complaints about women. I do. My biggest complaint is they don't stand up for themselves. They don't flex their muscles, growl, bare their teeth and show their power. With all the strong, intelligent women in society today, there should be an outcry that women are supposedly represented by such nitwits as Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann. These two harridans are not good examples of strong women; just the opposite. That would be like suggesting men are well represented by weaklings like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh. I am annoyed that women aren't angrier about sanctimonious men laying down laws about birth control and abortion. These are issues that should be decided by women, individual women. I wish women would complain more about how often they are shown as the cowering, helpless victims in drama, about the plethora of male-produced slasher movies, about sexual harrassment, about all the social issues where they are treated and regarded as the weaker sex (which they aren't). I'd like to see more news stories where a woman beat the hell out of an abusive husband or boyfriend, not after years of abuse but after the very first assault. Most of all when these Republican males start spouting off about new laws governing women's bodies, I'd like to see women tell them to go f*** themselves and never give those chauvinists their vote. Women have incredible strength. They just haven't used it enough to be confident in its force. But when they do....

She's at it again.

It's really mind-boggling to hear who is planning to run for the presidency. Newt Gingrich, with his sordid background thinks he has a chance. Hilarious. But even more astonishing is that the Moron from Minnesota, Michele Bachmann, has suggested she might run. In January, I was delighted to report that Michele in a speech had shown she believed that slavery in America was ended in the 1700s with the dedication of John Quincy Adams. It would be hard to top a gaffe like that, but she has done it. Recently in Nashua, New Hampshire, at a fund-raising event held by the Republican Liberty Caucus she praised the Granite State saying, "You're the state where the shot was heard round the world in Lexington and Concord." Well, maybe not every school child knows that Lexington and Concord are in Massachusetts, but every well-educated American adult should. This woman is abysmally stupid and thinks she can be president. Maybe Minnesota is a red state only because it is blushing.

Still shaking.

This tragic earthquake in Japan is making me aware of all kinds of things. First that there are too many people in the world. Earth is too damned crowded. If there were fewer of us, we would all live better and not have to think so much about the poor and the hungry. Much of the blame for this goes to religion, mostly the Roman Catholic Busybodies, and their insane need to promote procreation. I am sure there are millions of women and men who did not want and could not afford the child or children they popped into the world, but of course they didn't have the knowledge of means to practice birth control, especially with al the tut-tutting zealots who were so busy making sure they never did. The earthquake is also making it clear that we cannot experience true empathy. We can watch the suffering and kind of imagine what it would be like, but we cannot put ourselves in someone else's shoes and truly appreciate the horror of suddenly being thrown from your home or immersed in a sudden wave of water filled with cars, lumber and dead and dying people. If we could feel true empathy, we wouldn't be able to watch the news as it would leave us constantly frightened and devastated. Other thoughts? Nuclear energy is the stupidest idea that man has ever come up with, and one of these days, hopefully not soon, we will realize what fools we were to let these greedy asshole power companies talk us into it. When that day comes, we would all gladly give up our elecronic toys and electric-powered products if we could get rid of the painful boils on our bodies, the constant feelling of nausea, and the fear of imminent death. Too dramatic? Have you ever read about Chernobyl?

Much ado about a no one.

I love Huffington Post. It's where I get most of my news and where I can wallow among people who are, for the most part, as liberal as I am. So far I have written 5,286 posts, have 87 friends, and 463 fans, though I don't know the difference between friends and fans. There are some things I don't like. There are too many animal cruelty stories, which I have to skip by without even reading the full headlines. There are too many reports about celebrities I don't know and too many cute articles featuring funny signs or somebody's idea of a witty take on famous novels. But overall, it's great. Except for one maddening, hairpulling, nearly daily flaw: Sarah Palin stories. As far as I am concerned Sarah Palin is an uneducated, greedy, petulant, spoiled, cold-hearted, animal-killing and insignificant nobody who John McCain has unleashed on us as carelessly as BP flooded the Gulf with oil. And she's just as slimy, crude and likely to pollute for years. She has an opinion on everything, which in my opinion is someone else's opinion because she's not a bright person. I am sure she is the highly paid puppet of some arch conservative who has found his perfect poliical weapon. But HuffPost and other media quote her as if her opinions were her own and—god forbid—as if she could actually write speeches and articles. Sarah is the rash that won't go away, the flea infestation that no amount of spraying eliminates, the worst case of tinnitus. She is the screechy harridan we hear constantly on the news, continually spewing anger, bitterness and malapropisms when she isn't defending her wilderness brood. She is the meanest girl you knew at school who delighted her coterie and was spiteful to everyone else. The irony is that, narcissist that she is, she believes she is worthy of all this attention. I'm sure she doesn't realize that if she were fifty pounds heavier ahd wouldn't even turn heads at the Wasilla Piggly Wiggly, if there is one.

Note: Originally I had a photo of a dead, bullet-riddled wolf for this story. It was there to show you the kind of cruel slaughter that Palin thinks of as fun. But I, and several friends, found the photo too disturbing to look at even it if made a point, so you can imagine the kind of person that do this kind of killing.

A taxing afternoon.

I used to feel that I was smarter than most people. Not any more. Because everybody seems to be able to perform functions I can't. Today it was trying to prepare my taxes on the internet. My first attempt was with Turbotax, but after it kept rejecting my password and not giving me a good reason why, I gave up. I next tried TextACT, who also asked for all kinds of information and then left me stuck in the middle of a form I didn't understand at all. As you know, you can never speak with a helpful human being on these sites and if your question isn't one of the 263 they have listed, you are out of luck. Still millions of people use these services who must have some skill that I completely lack. I thought this would be an easy tax year because all I have to declare is social security income and interest from a couple of banks. But it looks like it's going to be a pain. I guess it's back to the dreary, flourescent-lit offices of H & R Block for another of their relatively easy, but highly overpriced, preparations.

This is a concept?

Having produced so many commercials over the year, I can appreciate all the work that goes into a commercial like this: the talent, costumes, location, director, makeup, costumes, takes, props, retakes, lighting, grips, craft services. Then all that hard work is done and this commercial is produced. And my question is, Why?

Minute Maid MMOJO "Wedding" Commercial

Huh?

This commercial for Americans for the Arts is so stupid, so illogical—and possibly so racist—I don't even know what to say about it. It's not funny, not witty, not clear, and not likely to make anyone think about exposing their children to greater cultural opportunities, if, indeed, that's what it's about. Maybe some cereal company could recyle it because it's worthless in its present form.

Americans For The Arts - "Brahm's Breakfast"

Oh, brother how could you?

I really dislike the new series of commercials for Niaspan of which this is one, though not for the same reasons as whomever posted this on YouTube. I dislike them because they are so obviously fake. This actor is someone I have seen many times. For him to pretend to be a loving brother, complete with family photos is pathetic. The script is so obviously copywritten and the sincerity nonexistent. Pharmaceutical companies are despicable to begin with, since their goal is to encourage people to become regular users of their costly medicines whether they need them or not. They don't seem to be very worried about the dire, and often deathly, side effects. I love the use of the word "flushing." It sounds so temporary. But I experienced it when I used another niacin-based drug. What it is is waking up in the middle of the night feeling like you have a really bad sunburn. And that's just one of the side effects. The answer is to avoid any prescription drug you absolutely don't need, even if you are encouraged to take it by your fake TV brother.

Unethical Pharma Ad: Niaspan from Abbott Labs

A word you'll find very handy.

Decades ago a close and still-dear friend introduced me to a made-up word that he had picked up from a newspaper article by a writer who coined the word and its definition, which I will provide in this post. The word was so suitable for so many occasions that it wasn't long before all my friends and their friends found it invaluable. We haven't used it much lately, maybe because it's a fun word and life hasn't been all that hilarious lately. But I think it's time to revive it. The word is "cheaps." I'm not sure of that spelling since I never saw the original article and I don't think my friend recalls the spelling. What it means basically is embarrassment. Not always for yourself, though you can have self-cheaps. More often for or because of someone else. "My best friend sang so badly it gave me the cheaps." "Sarah Palin is so stupid, she gives me the cheaps." "We did such a bad job of our annual play, we had group cheaps." "Nothing gives me the cheaps like sentimental cards." "This week Charlie Sheen gave everyone the cheaps." We all know someone who gives us the cheaps. We all remember times when we had a major case of the cheaps. Trust me: Start using this word and in no time at all, it will be essential to your lexicon. (When someone uses an unfamiliar word like "lexicon" just to look smart, doesn't it give you the cheaps?)

Note: The Sarah Palin line is incorrect. She does not give me the cheaps. A person would have to be somewhat liked for you to feel any embarrassment for them. Quite the opposite. I take great joy in Sarah's every blunder, boner and historical inacccuracy. However, I bet you anything she gives her family the cheaps.

It's not all magic.

The happiest place on earth is also the greediest. As much as I like going to Walt Disney World, I detest the Disney organization or what it has become in recent decades. Making a reservation was hell itself. They seemed to want to squeeze every bit of information out of me so they could send me and any fellow-travelers endless spammed sales pitches. Every phone call is an opportunity for them to reinforce their data base, so you can't do anything without answering fifty questions. Fail to comply and you can go no further. Maybe I'm naive but I believe Walt liked children and tried to give families value for their money. But Disney today seems to be only interested in tots, toddler, tweens, and teens whose parents can afford the most costly vacation. The prices at their resorts are sky high. Every ride now deposits you in an inescapable retail outlet. Eating at a Disney restaurant is not affordable for the average family. Even the videos, which most kids would like, are released intermittently and enormously over-priced. Walt Disney World seems like the perfect place: beautiful, fascinating, magical, manicured, charming topiary everywhere, lazy paddle boats, all kinds of fantasies come true. And the workers or elves or whatever they are smile and giggle, bob and weave, bow and scrape in the most robotically sweet manner. The only thing that's missing in this Florida paradise is a genuine heart.

Note: I have booked 6 days at the Wild Kingdom Lodge.If I have to cancel and don't do it within five days, they keep $286.00! For doing nothing. Another example of their greed. All right, that amount won't kill me. But think about a family that's been saving all year to visit Disney World, and a family emergency requires them to cancel. Taking that amount from them is theft.

Note: I cancelled in time to get a refund, but spent about twenty-five minutes on the phone doing it. I decided that Spring Break would be a turbulent time to visit Disney World despite the reassurances from the cheerful elves that it would be just fine.

DORITOS® - PUG ATTACK - Crash The Super Bowl 2011 Winner

The even vaster wasteland.

Tonight while watching television, I realized that commercials have never been worse. I suspect that today's herd of untalented art directors and copywriters are the very characters you see in today's commercials: juvenile, sex-starved, socially inept, ill-educated young boors. Like the nerd in this commercial for Doritos, teasing a dog running toward him by waving a bag of chips at the hungry dog through a plate-glass window while his ditzy girlfriend casually looks on. The dog knocks over the window. What a concept. Are Doritos now a pet snack? Of course female-bashing is also big in commercials today. A good example is the cell phone company showing us its product's features through the use of a neurotic young woman (a la Fatal Attraction) stalking her boyfriend. Just two of the endlessly mean-spirited, smart-ass, no-thinking commercials that deluge us every night. It used to be only the beer commercials showed us moronic males. Now they are being seen for every kind of product, even cars. And women take just as much abuse in commercials and are often seen as shallow, brainless, promiscuous bimbos. Speaking of which, what's with the car commercial in which two young women in identical cars change clothes so they can take off with each other's in-store unknowing boyfriend? Seems the theme of lots of today's commercials is lie to your friends, get what you can, don't share, be arrogant and smug, and remember you're worthless unless you're young and beautiful. Think I'm wrong? Pay attention.