The Little Novembrists?

I have no problem with politicians kissing babies. I also have no problem with politicians dragging their own kids up on stage in order to get votes. But I do have a problem with parents exploiting children to promote their chosen candidate.

This video of pre-pubescent "useful idiots" singing the praises of Obama is downright creepy. Here's the explanation from You Tube.

Sing for Change was a confluence of hard work, good will, and shared vision. Inspired by ideas raised at a grassroots Obama fundraiser, a music teacher, Kathy Sawada, and the children composed and rehearsed the songs in less than two weeks. Several musicians heard of the effort and volunteered to accompany the children. Parents and older siblings designed and provided the T-Shirts and the banner. There's a first for everything, but rarely do so many firsts come together at once: for the children and their parents, this is their first performance, first video, first banner, and first involvement with grassroots work on a presidential campaign.

Grassroots? Seriously? You use a Stedi Cam to shoot the video and you claim this is grassroots? How dumb do you think we are?

The lyrics sound like something from a 1950's upstate New York Commie Camp Jamboree.

Now's the moment, lift each voice to sing
Sing with all your heart!
For our children, for our families,
Nations all joined as one.
Sing for joy and sing abundant peace,
Courage, justice, hope!
Sing together, hold each precious hand,
Lifting each other up;
Sing for vision, sing for unity,
Lifting our hearts to Sing!

Personally, I would want my kids put their hands on their hearts and say, "One Nation, under God" rather than hold hands and sing, "Nations all joined as one." Call me crazy.

Food To Die For

There's something about the first few chilly days of fall that makes me want to inhale food like a paranoid bear in a salmon stream. As soon as the nighttime temps dip into the 50's, an ancient voice inside my lizard brain convinces my stomach that it's time to put on a winter layer of fat. My mouth-- and my husband-- become my enablers.

Gone are the days of light salad dressings! All hail the arrival of hot bacon dressing!

Asian cole slaw is out! Potato pancakes are in! (We made them on Friday night with Old Bay Seasoning. Ohhhhh Myyyyy Gawwwwwd!)

Goodbye chicken stir-fry! Hello chicken paprikash!

However, after a weekend of shameful indulgence we have decided to ignore our caveman tendencies as much as humanly possible.

So far today, it's been oatmeal for breakfast (with raisins, almonds, cinnamon, vanilla and brown sugar),black bean soup for lunch (okay we added some leftover sour cream from the paprikash, but it's a start) and instead of mashed potatoes for dinner, we'll have mashed cauliflower.

If we can eat healthy in the spring and summer then, by golly, we can eat light all year long.

Well, at least we'll give it a shot.

We didn't have this problem when we lived in Los Angeles. In the southwest, your brain is convinced that it's summer for 12 months out of the year. It's probably why, at that time, we were in the best shape of our lives.

If you're not careful, the change of seasons can result in a change of ass size.

The Good The Bad And The Ugly Cholesterol

This afternoon we decided to take advantage of free cholesterol testing being offered by our local CVS pharmacy. We weren't aware, however, that it is necessary to fast in order to get accurate results. The cranky technician became even crankier when she discovered that we had eaten two hours prior to showing up just to ruin her Sunday. Her exact words were, "This is going to be pointless."

We didn't have the heart to tell her that the meal consisted of bacon and eggs. I think she would have exploded.

But since the test was free and we had the added bonus of annoying her even further, we chose to proceed. She was not happy. We were bemused.

My cholesterol screen showed the following: Total Cholesterol 179, LDL 114, HDL 41, Triglycerides 122.

I think this means my bad cholesterol is good but my good cholesterol is bad.

The surly technician pretty much told me I was dying. I think it was just wishful thinking on her part.

According to the trusty internet, there are only a few ways to increase you HDL number.

1. Quit smoking. (I don't smoke.)

2. Start exercising. (I already run 4-5 times per week.)

3. Lose weight. (Okay they got me there.)

4. Drink 1/2 glass of red wine per day. (Hell, I drink at least a full glass every day. I'm ahead of the game!)

5. Take cholesterol medication.

No Lipitor for me, thank you very much. I think I'll just keep drinking my wine, running around the lake and, most importantly, I'll stay away from my big Sunday breakfast the next time I let them prick my finger.

Sometimes Nothin' Can Be A Real Cool Hand

Paul Newman was known as much for his charitable work as he was for his movie roles. He will be missed by many.

My favorite Newman movies are, in no particular order, Cool Hand Luke, Slapshot, The Hudsucker Proxy and Road To Perdition.

Plus I really liked his Ceasar salad dressing.

Perhaps I'll pop some of his popcorn tonight and watch one of the above films.

Here's a brief yet appropriate clip of Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke.

Music To My Ears

Other people run, I plod. Technically, what I do is running but my pace is so slow I think a dog scooting on his butt could pass me.

Yet I trudge on, convincing myself that I am somehow benefiting from my painfully slow workout.

I've always been an athlete but jogging (as it was called way back in the '70's and '80's) was merely a means to an end. My father used to say I became a great soccer player so I wouldn't have to run to the ball. If I could guess where the ball would go then I could just stroll over to the spot and be there when it arrived. It worked for me.

However, since running is the easiest way to exercise, I've decided to give it another try. Thanks to three pills a day of Glucosamine and Chondroitin my knees have been up to the challenge.

Back in July, I was pathetic. There's a 9/10 of a mile loop around a lake near my house and I couldn't make it past the half-way mark. Then I started running with music and my distance doubled immediately. I quickly realized it wasn't my lungs that were giving me trouble, it was my brain.

The music on my MP3 player had been randomly taken from our computer's hard drive, so every now and then I would be treated to Mel Torme singing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." Nothing makes you want to stop moving and curl up into a fetal position faster than the Velvet Fog crooning about a favorite childhood holiday.

When the theme from "Peter Gunn" would come on, my heart rate would quicken as every runner or walker who passed me suddenly seemed menacing.

So, my husband decided to create a special running mix tape for me and, so far, the results have been pretty darn good. Now I can make it around the lake 3 3/4 times, ending with a sprint. Four laps must be within reach.

Rehab Amy Winehouse

Baby Seat Barenaked Ladies

Let Forever Be Chemical Brothers

Big Time Sensuality Bjork

The Oaf Big Wreck

Down At The Bottom Walter Becker

Waiting For Mary Pere Ubu

I Know What You're Doing Dionne Farris

If You Let Me Stay Terence Trent D'Arby

Pull Up The Roots Talking Heads

In My Dreams Big Audio Dynamite

Don't Stay Home 311

Trans Island Skyway Steeley Dan

Florida Room Steeley Dan

Crackerman Stone Temple Pilots

I can't wait until I can outrun the playlist.

Great Headline

Hot dogs outside Philly ballpark cause bomb scare.

I've eaten a Philly ballpark hot dog. Usually the only bomb scare they cause is in the restroom during the seventh inning stretch.

News reports are pointing a big furry finger at the Phillie Phanatic.

Hours before the Phillies-Atlanta Braves' game on Wednesday night, a film crew shot a commercial of the mascot shooting heavily wrapped hot dogs from a launcher.

But someone inadvertently left three of the duct taped hot dogs outside the ballpark, sparking security fears. Stadium employees were evacuated and the bomb squad was called in.

There's nothing sadder than seeing a five dollar weenie blown to smithereens. I just hope it wasn't smothered in onions.

The first place Phils went on to lose the game. Fortunately, the second place Mets choked in their game against the Cubs.

But I'm glad the Phillies lost last night. If they had won, crazed Philly fans would have exploded hot dogs before every playoff game for good luck. That's worse than throwing an octopus onto the ice.

The Following Post Is Rated "M" For Strong Language

My husband and I regularly play a game called "Guess The Punchline." The rules are simple: one of us thinks up a joke and then, after hearing the set-up, the other person has 30 seconds to guess the gag. (I figured since most of you probably assumed it was going to be a sex game then I might as well at least use the word gag.)

I thought my challenge for today was fairly easy.

"If Ben & Jerry's is going to start making ice cream out of breast milk then they should also make a flavor using the bodily fluids of men. What would that flavor be called?"

His answers were wrong, but inspired.

Cocky Road

Cherry Gar-pee-a

Chunky Monkey

Of course the correct answer is Cum Raisin.

But I'll never eat Chunky Monkey again.

The Monroe Cuddler

Most of our furniture has been trash picked, bought at thrift shops or given to us by folks who were upgrading to better pieces. I think the last time I walked into a conventional store and paid retail price for something to sit on, eat on or put our belongings on, was 1988.

Over the years, however, we have managed to acquire some kick-ass mid-century modern stuff. So, even though we "shop" like college students, we're certainly not surrounded by cinder blocks and milk crates. Add some bad animal art and we have a pretty groovy apartment.

Yet the one constant embarrassment to me was our purple lounge chair. Oh sure, it was mighty comfy but it obviously didn't live up to the coolness of the rest of our pad. We called it our Marty Crane Memorial Chair.

So, last week we decided to buy a new one but the little baby bear in me thought this one was too hard and this one was too soft and I just couldn't find one that was just right. Then I laid eyes on the Monroe Cuddler.

The design was simple. The brown leather matches the browns and greens in our living room. As an added bonus, it pulls out into a twin bed which means one person can spend the night sleeping uncomfortably.

Sleeper chair has twin mattress, easy-opening mechanism and TV headrest. Semi-attached back cushion and 2 chenille tapestry accent pillows. Top grain leather and leather splits. Dense polyfoam cushions wrapped in polyester fiber. 20"H seat. Hardwood frame. Mattress is 32x71". Chair measures 54x36x37"H. 1-year limited mfr. warranty. Made in USA of materials from China.

I still don't understand the concept of the "TV headrest" but I do know that the chenille tapestry accent pillows have to go.

The delivery guys dropped it off at 7 this morning which I'm sure delighted our neighbors. We haven't cut the tags off yet. Maybe we'll leave them on and call it our Minnie Pearl Memorial Love Seat.

The 60th Annual Emmy Awards

Here I am posing with Gary Owens (Laugh In) back in 2000. He's the only person on last night's award show that I've had my picture taken with. Although I do have one with nominee Shelley Berman and my husband has a photo of himself with John Stewart posted on our MySpace profile.

The 60th Annual Emmy Awards was about 160 minutes too long. The funniest part of the entire night was Jimmy Kimmel's pre-Emmy show. Please Academy, let Kimmel host next year. If you're going to show the Seinfeld masturbation clip at 8:15 then you might as well let Kimmel sing, "I'm F***ing Ben Affleck."

Don Rickles, Tina Fey, Ricky Gervais, Steve Martin, Steve Correll, Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert were all funny as usual.

Tommy Smothers, on the other hand, chose pomposity over good old-fashioned humor. Smothers really needs to get over himself. In other countries, people who speak out against the government or a war either spend a lifetime in jail or find themselves being executed on a soccer field at half-time. Tommy Smothers had his network show replaced by Hee Haw. Am I the only one who can see the difference?

Josh Groban did blow me away with his TV theme song medley. Who knew he could do impressions?

Hooray For Dollywood!

Everybody in the business of show should admire Dolly Parton. She's fake yet real. In an industry where many celebrities have several failed marriages before the age of 30, Dolly and her husband have remained united for 40 years. Plus she somehow manages to balance that skinny body, drag queen wig and substantial Triple D's on top of five-inch heels and not tip over. She's the anti Elizabeth Taylor.

Last night, at the Los Angeles premiere of her musical "9 to 5" Dolly once again proved she is the ultimate professional and all-around great gal. Fifteen minutes into the performance, the play was stopped due to technical difficulties. Dolly, who was in the audience watching with many of her celebrity friends, didn't run back stage and bitch slap the stage manager or duck into the alley to snort away her shame. Heck no! Dolly just stood up and did what Dolly does best.

As the minutes dragged on and on, a clearly restless audience was cheered when Parton stood-up right from her seat in the middle of the theater and said; "If they can't perform the show, I'll do some of it from right here." Parton then proceeded to lead the entire audience in a sing-a-long version of the title song '9 to 5.' That number, drew a rousing ovation from the crowd; but the delay wasn't done and neither was Dolly.

Audience members could hear construction equipment like power drills and saws at work while Dolly continued to charm the audience with a talk about the origins of the musical show; as well as introducing her '9 to 5' film co-stars. As the delay continued, Parton offered to take questions from the audience; and then asked if the audience would like for her to sing another song; 'I Will Always Love You.' Before beginning the second number Dolly told the crowd, "Maybe I'll wait, in case things get screwed up again and I have to fill more time."

After a complete set of about 20 minutes of both song and chatter the show resumed.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why she gets paid the big bucks.

It's Like I've Been Hit In The Face With A Book

I'm on Facebook but I have no idea what do to now that I am there. To quote my late mother-in-law, "I can't catch on to this thing." MySpace seemed easy in comparison.

None of it really makes sense to me. On My Space, strangers can see your profile so it's actually a fairly effective marketing tool. On Facebook, however, you have to already be cyber friends to view each other's sites. So, what's the point? I think they take this social networking nonsense just a little too seriously.

I'm so confused. I feel like a senior at an ATM-- or as my husband calls me a "Skene-ior."

I guess I'll just keep drinking red wine and sending out friend requests. At least it didn't cost me anything to join.

De Rothschild De Rocks!

To quote Ronald Reagan, "The Democratic Party left me. I didn't leave the Democratic Party."

Designers, Make It Work.

All creative people should be fans of Bravo's Project Runway. Watching these designers turn recycling, car parts and produce into high-end fashion is fascinating. Watching them fall apart when they have to make garments out of cloth for real women-- instead of their usual models-- is even more so.

I think it says a lot about the fashion industry that season after season, talented men and women, both gay and straight, melt down when they are faced with a heavier-than-90-lb. female. A 300-lb. drag queen they can dress easily. Ask them to create a prom dress for a less-than-attractive teenager and the tears start flowing.

So, to punish them all, I propose the ultimate challenge: The contestants must dress homeless people using only materials found under a bridge-- used condoms, dog turds, pigeon feathers, cigarette butts, burger wrappers, pint bottles, fingerless gloves and business cards from local shelters.

The winning designer will get a tetanus shot.

A Battle of Wills

We spent the weekend working on our will and living will. I can't say that talking, thinking and, ultimately, dreaming about death is the best way to relax on a Sunday afternoon, but it was a responsibility we could no longer ignore.

The hardest part was deciding what to do with our bodies after we kick off. We both chose cremation. I want an urn that says, "I went to heaven and all I got was this lousy gold cup."

I'm really not thrilled with the idea of being incinerated. I have this nightmare image of waking up just as I feel a burning sensation on my toes. But the other options are even worse.

My fear of sharks prevents a burial at sea and my slight claustrophobia makes being buried in box completely out of the question. Plus I don't like bugs. Unfortunately, death seems to involve lots of bugs.

I wish there was a less gruesome way for my body to decompose. Maybe I could be nibbled on by a pack of adorable puppies or have my flesh licked off slowly by the sandpaper tongue of a cute and fluffy cat?

I do know, however, that if I am to be laid out for visitation, there simply must be an open bar. Nobody should have to go to a viewing without the aid of alcohol. That's why I love the idea of an Irish wake... put the body on a table and drink like silly. By the end of the night, mourners are using the folded hands to hold their pints. Good times.

I doubt my husband will abide by my request to be displayed in a bunny suit. Not a Playboy Bunny suit, but a full-body pink bunny suit like the kid wore in A Christmas Story. I think it would make the people happy. Plus it would be worth the gag just to hear some old lady say, "She looks good."

Hopefully, by the time I die there will be a cure for death.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Philadelphians are raised to despise Dallas. So when the Eagles play the Cowboys on Monday Night Football, you can be sure half the city will report late to work on Tuesday.

When the Eagles lose to Dallas on Monday Night Football, you can be sure half the city will report late to work on Tuesday in a really foul mood.

The score sounded more like a WNBA final... 41-37. It was a great battle. But who scores 37 points and loses a football game?

Donovan McNabb was jovial when it was over. That's one thing that has always bothered me about him. He smiles as much in victory as he does in defeat. Perspective and an even-temper may suit him well in his personal life but for an Eagles quarterback those are unacceptable qualities.

If you lose to your nemesis 41-37 you should at least kick the Gatorade keg.

The Eagles actually have a chance this year. We'll see if they blow it...again.

I sure hope they don't. If I have to endure drunk men with Philly accents singing the Eagles fight song for the next 15 weeks, there better be a championship when it's over.

Jumma Chouma

My husband finally found video of his all-time favorite Indian song "Jumma Chouma."

Back in the early '90's, he tried to buy the cassette at India House of Spices only to be told by the heavily accented gentleman behind the counter, "You don't want that song. It is very, very old." So, instead he bought some music by a Punjabi rapper.

Over the years, the tune continued to pop up in his brain from time to time. After hearing it for the first time this morning, I can see why. The song takes a while to get started, but the eight minute version is pretty darn catchy. If I could sing in that high-pitch female Indian style, I'd be belting it out all day.

And the video doesn't disappoint either. The sexual images have about as much subtlety as a train entering a tunnel. There's lots of foam and hoses and more foam. The Michael Jackson-esque choreography and Flashdance-type cinematography make this Bollywood classic fun to watch. Although westerners might be distracted by the lead singers resemblance to David Brenner.

I just wish I understood the language. Maybe then a flamenco dancer being hosed off in a men's prison would actually make some sense.



I think I have to have Indian food for dinner.

Rejected Us Weekly Fashion Police Jokes 16

I have been a Top Cop for Us Weekly's Fashion Police since 2001. (Why do men always call it "U.S." Weekly even when they see it spelled with a big "U" and a small "s"?)

Some weeks many of my jokes are published while other weeks I have to settle for just one or two. Below is a partial list of comments that never made it to the newsstand.

Note: The ones marked "Accepted" are my comments that got in. The ones marked "Rejected" are the ones that didn't.



Eva Longoria Parker

Rejected: It's the color of chewed gum.

Rejected: Where's the rest of the choir?

Bridget Marquardt (The Girls Next Door)

Rejected: Hey, Lil' Bo Peep, I shudder to think where's your sheep.

Rejected: Now starring in The Crazy Girls Next Door.

Dustin Hoffman

Accepted: I see that Rain Man still shops at K-Mart.

Rejected: Sadly, the fruitcake shirt was a gift from his mother.

102 MInutes That Changed America

While the major networks were showing The Office, Grey's Anatomy and CSI, the History Channel aired an absolutely brilliant 9/11 documentary called "102 Minutes That Changed America."

This must-see special pieced together, in chronological order, video of the attack and its aftermath shot mostly by amateur photographers and videographers.

I am still completely blown away by what I just saw.

The images, blessedly free of commentary by Stone Phillips, Diane Sawyer or any number of ivy league professors, is compelling and emotional. I wept and drank whiskey throughout the broadcast.

"Truthers" and those Americans who view the world as if it were September, 10 should all be ashamed of themselves.

Vote For Me. Try The Veal.

According to CBSNews.com, "It's Stand-up Comedy Time for Obama as He Ratchets Up Criticism."

To paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, I'm not offended as a McCain/Palin supporter, I'm offended as a comedian.

(NORTH FARMINGTON, MICH.) - Barack Obama took it up a notch – or two - at a town hall meeting tonight where he used comedy to mock and ridicule the McCain-Palin ticket.

I think reporter Maria Gavrilovic would have been better off ending the story after the first paragraph. Instead she tried to bolster her argument by citing examples of Obama's "jokes." I've seen horrendous open-mikers deliver better material.

“I mean think about it, you guys remember this, it was just like a month ago they were all saying ‘experience, experience, experience’,” Obama said as the crowd snickered, “Then they chose Palin and started talking about ‘change, change, change’ - What happened?”

Can you say, "Premise, premise, premise?" A set-up without a punchline is merely a sentence.

“I mean, mother, governor, moose shooter?! I mean I think that’s cool, that’s cool stuff,” Obama said about Palin’s biography.

Admittedly, not all jokes look good on paper. Add a heaping helping of sarcasm to the above quote and maybe, just maybe, you could make it sound like an actual gag. But only a rank amateur-- or a sophomore in high school-- would end a bit with the words, "I mean I think that's cool, that's cool stuff." He just flunked Stand-up Comedy 101.

“What were the Republicans hollerin’, ‘drill baby drill’? What kind of slogan is that?! They were getting all excited about drilling!”

Who's writing his stuff? Fozzie Bear? "Drill baby drill, wacka, wacka wacka!"

The idea for the joke is "Drill baby drill" but that's not a fully formed joke. How about, "What were the Republicans hollerin', 'drill baby drill'? I bet that's what Sarah Palin's husband yells out in bed." Or "McCain's so feeble-minded they should have been yelling 'drool baby drool.' Or "I'd like to drill baby drill into McCain's skull. (Nancy Pelosi stole the "drilling into Bush's skulll" joke from me.) Anything, anything, would have been better than "they were getting all excited about drilling."

Only once did he come close to saying something that resembled a punchline.

“We don’t always catch the right person. We may think this is Mohammed the terrorist, it might be Mohammed the cab driver. You may think it’s Barack the bomb thrower, but it might be Barack the guy running for president.”

Well, it's certainly not Barack the stand-up comedian.

9/11

Nothing makes me angrier than 9/11 "truthers." Nothing makes me happier than watching Penn & Teller making them all look silly.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcrF346sS_I

I wasn't able to embed the video, but it's worth clicking on the link. The language is not suitable for the office (Teller doesn't talk, but Penn curses quite a bit), so please please please watch it when you get home. Or just turn down your volume and sit close to your computer.

Please Stand Up

I actually felt bad for Joe Bidumb when he asked a man in a wheelchair to "stand up." Oh sure, I laughed heartily and replayed the You Tube video again and again and again, but I still sympathized with the guy.

As a standup comic, I have made similar gaffes in front of large groups of people. From stage, I once asked a gentlemen if he liked to grab his own penis, only to discover that I was talking to a lesbian. Oops. I blamed my mistake on the glaring stage lights when her haircut was clearly at fault.

Years ago, at a comedy club in Richmond, my husband confronted a man sitting in the front row who didn't seem to be paying attention by saying, "What are you blind?" The man's reply, "I have a glass eye... would you like to see it?" Seconds later, hubby was holding the man's glass in his hand as a horrified audience looked on.

To his credit, Bidumb handled the situation about as well as he could. He's just lucky Obama upstaged him with his "lipstick on a pig" remarks.

A Backwards Step For Women?

Joe Biden, it seems, thinks a Sarah Palin victory will be a "backwards step for women."



But the real "backwards step for women" occurred when Barack Obama picked Joe Biden instead of Hillary Clinton to be his running mate.

Biden is the backwards step for babes... not Palin.

And, as far as Sarah Palin not believing in equal pay for women-- at least according to her critics-- I'm guessing she'll make the same money Dick Cheney made when he was Vice-President.

The Sarah Palin Doll

I can't blame the company Hero Builders for trying to cash in on a cultural phenomenon, but did they have to depict a mother of five with her moose-knuckle hanging out?

Where's the Obama doll with a bulge in his pants?

Not since Al Gore appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone have we tried so hard to sexualize a candidate running for office.

At the risk of sounding like a prude, it's a bit creepy.

Just this week, Salon depicted her as a dominatrix, various articles have echoed Craig Ferguson's assertion that she's a naughty librarian type and now this.

I shudder to think what's next. The Sarah Palin vibrator perhaps? One flip of a switch and you can quiver just like her opponents!

Apparently, the media doesn't have trouble with strong women. The media has trouble with strong, attractive women.

I bet the Madeleine Albright doll would be wearing pants... loose pants.

Assaulted By His Halloweenie

For Halloween this year, I'm going to dress my dog up like a lobster rape victim.

(Authorities are analyzing drawn butter found at the scene for DNA evidence.)

Stand Up To Cancer

When I was a kid, it seemed like cancer was an automatic death sentence. Now, however, we all know people who are currently living with the disease. But those of us who have lost loved ones in the modern era still understand how deadly this diagnosis can be.

The mission statement for Stand Up To Cancer points out this very fact.

For the first time we can envision the possibility of stopping cancer in its tracks. But just when science is on the verge of giving us the breakthroughs that can end cancer, the will and the funding to do so are disappearing from the national agenda and from our collective consciousness.

I was nine when my beloved Aunt Jen discovered she had breast cancer. She was beautiful, funny and sweet... the type of person everybody loved. Tragically, she lost her fight with the "C" word. Several years later, her only son-- my cousin Bobby-- died from leukemia. He was a high school football star who joined the Navy after graduation. He never made it to his 21st birthday.

Since then I have known people who have survived cancer and have mourned friends and loved ones who didn't. But I think it's those early losses that have affected me the most.

My Aunt Jen and cousin Bobby should still be here. Let's stop this disease from taking any more good people.

I'm A Guest On "What's So Funny."

Would you like to hear me go on and on and on about the business of standup and my early comedy idols? If so, tune into my hour-long interview on "What's So Funny" this Friday, September 5 at 11 AM, 4 PM and 11 PM EST on Lake Effect Radio.

Host Dave Schwensen welcomes standup comics and grills them about their influences, their careers, their love of standup comedy. (Dave dug up audio of an early Albert Brooks performance and recordings of Gary Muledeer and Martin Mull!) We taped it back in July when my husband and I co-headlined the Improv in Cleveland. (His episode aired a few weeks ago.)

I believe you can also listen online by clicking on the above link.

Ooooooooh, Barracuda!

Sarah Palin just delivered one of the most brilliant political speeches I have ever heard. Even MSNBC's Keith Olberman had to admit it was good.

Her performance was flawless. It was Ronald Reagan/John F. Kennedy perfection.

But, as a standup comic, I am truly thrilled that she can actually tell a joke. I almost teared up when she quipped, "What's the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull? Lipstick." As a professional joke teller, I can say for the first time-- to paraphrase Michelle Obama-- I was proud of my country.

A Great Joke

Norm Crosby told a great joke the other day on the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon.

"An old woman was sitting on the couch with her husband watching TV. She says to him, 'Let's go upstairs and make love.' He said, 'I can't do both.'"

Babygate

Add Katie Couric and the rest of the CBS News team to the Misogyny Media Watch List.

Their coverage of what they probably would have loved to call Babygate was completely out of proportion with its relative newsworthiness. Instead of allowing sourpuss Bob Schieffer to bore us to tears with speculation and water cooler gossip, perhaps Ms. Couric should have looked into these crazy little things called facts.

Couric certainly needed to report the news of Sarah Palin's daughter's pregnancy, but to treat this revelation as one of the great political bombshells is ludicrous. To imply that this may-- or as the tone suggested should-- destroy her campaign is reprehensible.

Vice-Presidential candidate Joe Biden's son is a lobbyist who is under investigation for a failed hedge fund deal. Vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin's daughter had unprotected sex with her boyfriend. Which story is more relevant to the election? Yet, which story received more primetime coverage this evening?

Do you really think this would be big story had it been Biden's teenage daughter who was with child? Do you really think it would be suggested that his "bad parenting" means he can't lead the country?

As a mother of daughters, Couric should be ashamed of herself for putting her ideology and ratings ahead of her gender.

As for the hypocrisy angle, Palin is a pro-lifer who is for birth control and abstinence education is schools. For whatever reasons, the daughter chose to ignore both the abstinence and the birth control message. To use a this kid's mistake as a tool to change the outcome of an election is beyond the Palin.

A Kitty Cat Break From Politics

I told you my brother's cats would buy me a birthday card. Here are their signatures. Yes, they needed a little help from the big people with the thumbs who feed them twice a day. (Apparently, outlining their paws is never easy.)

The card reads, "Know why cats don't expect gifts on their birthdays? They already think they own everything."

You gotta love felines with a self-deprecating sense of humor.

In case you can't read the handwriting, their names are Pele and Banks. (My brother is a soccer fan.)