TMI, But I Need To Vent

Normally, I don't use this blog to air my dirty laundry, but my bloomers have skidmarks and there's only one way to get 'em clean. I need to unload, and you, dear reader are the receptacle.

You see, I just got off the phone with my slut of an alcoholic ex-wife and, as usual, she's managed to ruin my sunny disposition with her incessant clamoring for her share of that residual check I earned by doing a guest-spot on Dharma & Greg a few years ago (I was the hot dog vendor in the park the fueled some great homo jokes, IMHO I stole the show). That gin-soaked harlot has a sixth sense when it comes to prospective johns, half-price daiquiris and my money.

What makes this situation so infuriating is that we were married for just six weeks and the only evidence I have that the marriage was even consummated is the permanent rash I seem to have developed "down there". But the fact I'm still paying "The Mistake That Jumped From The Cake" fourteen years later just seems patently unfair. But, as my agent is fond of saying, "life isn't fair unless you have a movie deal" and I, dear friends, don't currently have a movie deal.

Anyway, her latest telephonic tirade has me spitting nails, in fact I've chewed them to the knuckle. She says that if I don't Western Union $200 to the Flamenco Motor Lodge in Bypass, Texas by noon tomorrow she'll tell the tabloids my "Awful Secret." This would ruin me and my economic future. You see, I was planning on selling "My Awful Secret" to the tabloids myself when the time was right, but this be-yatch may force my hand sooner than I planned.

Well, thanks for listening. I have to sign off now and run over to Olde West to pawn my watch (again) and then over to the Western Union counter at Holiday and send two hundred freakin' dollars to the Flamenco Motor Lodge. What can I say, she's got me by the short and curlys.

Bitch.

Review: Leon Russell at the Cascade

Let me preface this review by saying that as an actor I have been done in on many occasions by shoddy technical support. Once, the scene called for me to fly gracefully across the stage (Peter Pan-like) and the drunken stagehands manipulating the cables managed to whip me violently into the bricks behind the canvas backdrop, head first. Their ineptitude cost me a Tony, 17 stitches and a concussion. Gin-swilling louts. So, I can sympathize with a performer whose talents are sabotaged by technicians and cheap equipment.
Tonight, I went to see and hear The Master of Space and Time, Leon Russell at the lovely Cascade Theatre in downtown Redding. Well, I saw Mr. Russell and his band but what I heard sounded like it was coming out of old Chevy Nova radio speakers at full blast and whose tears in its cones had been patched with masking tape. It sounded like shit. Awful. I left after about an hour of aural torture. I don't know how much worse it got, but I had no desire to hang around to find out.
Now, don't get me wrong... Leon and his band seemed to be playing great. The setlist was an eclectic mix of old R&B standards and Dylan covers...at least I think that's what it was. I'm not sure. You sure couldn't discern anything from the vocals. Well, they weren't really vocals, more like electronic squawking and a blender chipping ice.
Now, I love the Cascade. And, I love everyone who volunteers their time to ensure we have a top-notch venue here in River City. Bless you all. But unless Leon got to the theatre and decided not to do a sound check, somebody done messed up but good. Seriously folks, I know it's only rock and roll but being loud ain't enough. Now, Buddy Guy was seriously loud but at least you could make out the vocals and keys...not tonight.
Cascade sound folks, thank you for trying...I know you're trying...but nobody wants to plunk down $65 for a ticket to hear kitchen appliances explode.
That's just the way I see (and hear) it.

TTFN,
Harry

As promised, Some Watercolors

Hello Everyone, I am a self-taught artist who finds working with watercolor both exhilarating and cathartic. Back in the day, I would set up my little easel in the soundstage and paint between takes. Sometimes it would be hours, or even days, before my character was required before the camera, so I painted and painted. Here is a sample of one of my first efforts (I was painting under a "stage name" in those days, hence the signature "Marc Chagall". I thought it sounded very artsy.)

I'll post some more later on, I just thought you folks would like a little peek at my early work.

TTFN (that's Ta-Ta For Now for the uninitiated)

Harry

Reader's Letters

I thought I would share a couple of recent e-mails I've received from blog readers. Judging from the messages I've received you are a super curious bunch! Oh, and to A.S. from Pacoima, I actually never saw Bob Denver's "thingie", so I can't answer your question. And what makes you think I would have looked in the first place? Anyway, on to the more reasonable letters...

Dear Mr. Ames,

You claim to be an expert on the breed and yet you do not use the proper spelling. It should be spelled, S-h-i T-z-u or S-h-i-h T-z-u. You only make yourself look stupid when you make spelling mistakes. If you don't even know how to spell the breed's name, how can you be considered a Shi Tzu expert?

Signed,
Mrs. A. Noid
Redding

Dear Ms. Noid,

Do you have to be such a be-yatch? The fact of the matter is you don't know Shitzu from Shinola. The crazy spelling you prefer is based on the Wade-Giles system of romanization which I wholeheartily reject out of hand. The Wade-Giles system has been proven inferior and is no longer used by legitimate, professional Shitzu breathers, er, breeders.

Dear Mr. Ames,

Did you ever meet the great Billy Mumy? He was one of my favorite actors. Where is he now and what is he doing? I believe his performance on TV's "Lost In Space" outshone even that of Guy Williams.

Signed,
Amanda Pooterstain
Van Nuys

Dear Amanda,

Better than Guy Williams? High praise indeed. Yes, Billy was a contemporary of mine and I used to see him on the lot all the time. We would hang out together, and being precocious Hollywood 13-year-olds we would often go behind the make-up trailers and smoke a "doobie." It was 1966, you know. Sometimes we'd get a couple of the script continuity girls, get them high and bang 'em behind the "My Mother The Car" set. Once we even nailed 'em in the back seat of "Mother"! I don't think the property guys ever got all the stains out.

Today, Billy is a thrice-divorced salesman living in the Valley and attending court-ordered AA meeting 5 times a week. I used to see him Tuesdays and Thursdays and we'd talk about the "good old days" over a couple of beers. I haven't seen him much since moving to Redding, but I would love to get him up here for one of my Actor's Workshops. He's an amazing talent, but I don't know if you could put him in the Guy Williams class. Thanks for your letter.

Dear Mr. Ames,

My little Shih Tzu, "Caesar", has difficulty breeding, er, I mean breathing. In fact, he hasn't done any in two days now. What should I do?

David Hockaloogie
Santa Monica

Dear David,

Whatever you do, don't waste your money on a vet. Besides veterinarians being crooks and charlatans, you'd be paying for a diagnosis I can make by e-mail. Let's just say you won't be going through the liver, rice and kibble at the same rate. Adjust your shopping accordingly.

Well, that's all for today! Come back later for more dish and dogs!