Quentin's Friends

just had to post this - New York in a nutshell

2. Invite: Dynamic Meditation Teleclass this Wed 11/30.

More Gleamings

CENTER POINT

Several in this community have been bush hogging their land. It makes it look a lot better. They have also started cutting more timber in this community.

Keith & Kay Swisher of Guntersville came out and sowed grass seed around the pool they had dug recently.

Randy Smith has had his pond dug bigger.

Micah Berry spent the night with Jacob Clark at Grove Oak.

Red Simpson & daughter Phyllis Gilliland, both of Grove Oak, were in this community one day.

Quentin's Friends

Another semi-recurring bit, focusing on select items from a listserv I'm on - a snapshot into the needs and offerings of various NY residents.

Seeking: Videographer for hip, cool dog events
Invite: Seminar on the Joys of Adopting an Adult Pet
Seeking: Ride home for mini-Doberman

Seeking: Successful and Ambitious Women Interested in Mastermind Goal Group
Invite: Chat with Dr. Bernie Siegel...

Seeking: Dubai friends / business contacts
Recommend: Reading about wine

Seeking: acoustic consultant
Seeking: Holistic Dermatologist

Seeking: Seedy Hotel/Motel Suggestions
Offered: 60's-70's Style Location

Seeking: Work/Cheap Housing for my Sister!
Offered: Pet-sitting / Proof-reading / Resume writing / Public Health ResearchSkills
Offered: Free Teleclass 10/17, How to Figure Out What You Want When Youare Changing Careers

Seeking: People who have placed sardonic personal ads

Gleamings

What is a Gleaming, you may ask? It's what I hope will become a recurring segment: gleanings from the Advertiser-Gleam, the semiweekly (Wed, Sat) newspaper of Guntersville, Alabama, a small lake resort town outside of Huntsville. Mostly these will be items selected from the community pages of the paper, in which a local posts a column of updates on her co-locals.

PLEASE NOTE: The intention here is not to mock small-town life in general or Guntersville in particular. I just see something intriguing, evocative, poignant, or unique in the use of language in these, read singly or as a narrative. Sometimes the level of detail (or omission) is particularly striking.

September 3, 2005

ASBURY
James Earl Rians and some of his family attended a walking horse show in Shelbyville, Tenn. Mr. Rains' wife Maria is a resident of the Albertville Nursing Home.
Matthew and Courtney Davidson have moved into their new mobile home. They put the trailer on the same place they had their old trailer.
Seventeen youths of Asbury Methodist Church went skating and reported having a good time.

MARTLING
The annual gospel singing at the Ed Otinger place on the Blue Bend road will be today (Saturday) starting at 4:00. All singing groups are invited, along with the public. It will take place under the trees. People should bring lawn chairs. Fish and barbecue plates will be available. Those who want to bring a dessert or other dish should do so. This singing has been going on for many years. For more details or instructions on how to get there, call ______.
Gainnell McClendon's son David and his family live at New Orleans and they didn't have to leave their home. They had some damage from Hurricane Katrina. They had a generator to run some of their appliances.
Lulu Belue, Joyce Windsor and Betty Hammock attended the Sand Mountain Association at the New Macedonia Primitive Baptist Church at Section. There were so many ministers they couldn't preach all those 2 1/2 days.
S.J. Childress has had 3 bypasses. He is home and doing fine. S.J. and Louise had company. They went to a horse show.

Rob & Sheryl's Emmy Report, 2005

We begin our story at the Standard Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, where the “Daily Show” housed its entire staff. Of course, not everyone at the hotel was a fan of the show. At check- in, Rob’s co-worker Jason Reich overheard the following conversation concerning one Mr. Jon Stewart:

Clerk #1: “Hey, did you see the guy from ‘Half-Baked’ is staying here? But he’s grayed a little.”
Clerk #2: “Yeah, he has his own show on Comedy Central now.”
Clerk #1: “Oh, I only watch Comedy Central for ‘Mind of Mencia’.”

Fortunately, several members of the Academy were more familiar with Stewart’s work (and that of his 13 writers), and so Sunday afternoon we found ourselves in a limousine on our way to the Shrine Auditorium for the 57th Annual Emmy Awards. As in past years, the city was clogged with limos, stretch hummers, and even a stretch Mini-Cooper (Is that just a Cooper?). But not everyone believed in motorized transportation: From our car window, we saw Zach Braff (“Scrubs”) passing by on foot and waving at all of us suckers stuck in traffic, as well as David Letterman sitting at a bus stop, in his best Emmy formal shorts and T-shirt.

We also passed a regular annual sight outside the Emmys: the God-arazzi. These are people who line the route to the Shrine Auditorium, holding signs with messages like, “Christ or Satan?” and “Have You Seen the Big Picture? Rev. 21:1-8” and “Do you worship posers? What will you do when you see Jesus?” Joining them was a man with slightly more earthly concerns, handing out demo discs and wearing a sign telling Hollywood “Let Me Sing Your Soundtracks???? I Want A Record Deal.”

Finally, we arrived at the red carpet – that is, the side of the red carpet reserved for us less famous nominees. Over our heads, the rabid Emmyheads who’d gotten carpetside seats screamed every time anyone vaguely recognizable walked by. When the actor who plays “Sawyer” on “Lost,” entered, the crowd – unable to recall all 800 cast members’ names – simply yelled, “LOOSSST!!!” Geena Davis’s new husband was also demanded by the hungry fans, with the respectful request, “HUSBAND!!!!!”

Arriving with us was another of Rob’s co-workers, J.R., and his mother, Gloria, who – despite traveling in a wheelchair – was cajoled, along with everyone else, to “hurry it up!” Gloria got her revenge on Hollywood, however, when her hurried pace caused her to roll right over the train on Paula Abdul’s dress, mid-interview. J.R.’s response: “I’ll never wash that wheel again.”

As we discovered at the door, the reason for the rush was that the ceremony had already begun, meaning we had to wait until the first commercial break to take our seats (pushing past a pregnant Jennifer Garner and a peeved-looking Ben Affleck). As befits those the Academy honors most, we were seated as far to the left as physically possible, next to event crew working on their laptops.

Sadly, though, the two of us weren’t able to enjoy the show together for very long, as the Academy cruelly decided to pull Rob and his colleagues away and onto the stage.

After appearing on stage, the Daily Show writers were led backstage to pick up their actual trophies – blank statues when you pick them up (the personalized bands are sent later via U.S. mail). Joining the newly-minted Emmy winners was Donald Trump, with whom the writers had a picture taken with. But as soon as the Donald left earshot, the imitations erupted (“That film speed was the most elegant film speed money can buy.” “This flashbulb has been used on princes and sultans…”).

Trump continued on into the thicket of press/commercial sponsor booths -- this year’s included the “Architectural Digest Greenroom” and the “Sprint/Nextel Sofa-And-Wet-Bar-Under-a-Tent Interview Chamber,” where a buxom blonde handed out glasses of citrus beverage and Doris Roberts was perpetually being interviewed. The writing staff, however, had to wait around for Jon and the executive producers to join them for photos. Entertainment Tonight’s Mary Hart and Access Hollywood’s Nancy O’Dell, stood there, too, with camera and crew at the ready, completely disinterested. Until Jon showed up. Suddenly there were photographers around him at every turn, snapping him in the middle of group shots which, let’s just say, maybe they didn’t care if the *whole* group made it into.

Meanwhile, Sheryl continued to watch the broadcast from her seat. On one side was one of the seat-fillers whose job it is to cover up the fact that most Emmy attendees are outside at the bar half the show. On the other side was Daily Show commentator Lewis Black, who ranged from grumbling every time reality shows were mentioned to exchanging pleasantries with former theater cohorts Blythe Danner and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Eventually, Lewis Black also succumbed to the siren song of the Emmy bar, and Sheryl ended up sitting next to the aforementioned Gloria (a.k.a. J.R.’s Mom), who couldn’t keep her eyes off the most brightly shining star in the entire theater: the guy who played Bertie Wooster (a.k.a. Hugh Laurie from Fox’s “House.”) As luck would have it, Laurie walked up the aisle next to Gloria. Not wanting to miss a chance, Sheryl popped up, grabbed the actor’s hand, and exclaimed, “We’re with the Daily Show! And this is a Daily Show writer’s Mom!” Laurie graciously shook Gloria’s hand and congratulated her. Surely Jeeves would have been proud.

A few minutes later, Alan Alda walked up the very same aisle.

Sheryl: “Look, there’s Alan Alda.”
Gloria: “Oh, you’re right.”
Sheryl: “Want to meet him?”
Gloria: “Eh.”

Fans can be so fickle.

Once released with his colleagues from the photographers’ gauntlet, Rob made his way back to his seat through the lobby of the Shrine. With no food at the 4-hour ceremony, but plenty of cash bars and opportunities to slip out during commercials, it’s an interesting place to be. Legions of female attendees with dubious attachment to the Emmies (not to mention their gown straps) slink around, cooing over freshly won statues. Two of them converged on Rob, begging to have their picture taken with it. He agreed, but then the following argument broke out.

Slinkstress #1: Hey look, there’s Dennis Leary! Let’s get our picture taken with him!
Slinkstress #2: No, stupid, we have an Emmy. Let’s get our picture with that.
Slinkstress #1: But Dennis Leary’s getting away!
Slinkstress #2: But the Emmy’s right here!

Despite Rob’s offer to let them take the picture with Dennis Leary holding Rob’s Emmy, Leary did, in fact get away. The Solomonic dispute was resolved.

Eventually, Rob made his way back to Sheryl and their seats inside. Later on, during another commercial break – okay, bathroom break – both of us were out in the lobby together and got to meet Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, creators of “The Office.” Rob made a joke, and was psyched to see his hero Gervais smile, but then saddened to see a man so brilliant still fallen victim to British dentistry.

Meanwhile, Sheryl was wandering the lobby, unable to find Rob (had he been kidnapped by slinkstresses?) However, she did find Daily Show correspondent Stephen Colbert, who was being congratulated on his Emmy by a beefy guy.

Guy: “Wow, congratulartions on the Emmy! What’d you get it for?”
Stephen Colbert: “Special Effects.”
Guy: “Really? What kind of stuff do you do?”
Sheryl: “He’s the best 3-d graphics man in Hollywood.”
Guy: “Cool! You gotta meet my buddy. He’s at a studio, maybe he could get you some work.”

After the awards ended, the nominees and their guests were ushered into the Governors’ Ball, a celebratory banquet held in a ballroom adjoining the auditorium. The Daily Show was seated at two tables corresponding to our positioning in the auditorium – all the way in the “bathroom corner.” Most of the tables at the Ball were occupied by skinny white writers and producers. But the table next to ours was noticeably different: It included a fat guy with curly hair, an Arab man, an Asian woman, an African-American man, and a hobbit from “Lord of the Rings.” Gradually, it dawned on us that these were, in fact, most of the cast members from “Lost.”

Although the theme of this year’s Ball was reportedly “1930s Ocean Liner,” the lack of organization made it more reminiscent of a certain ocean voyage from 1912. The evening’s entertainment was “The Ten Tenors” – an Australian singing group whose lowlight was an ill-advised BeeGees medley. The wait-staff had to check our tickets because unauthorized people (seat-fillers and slinkstresses, from our observation) were sneaking in. Two of them sat down at our table, in the seats of a temporarily missing writer and his wife, and helped themselves to their shrimp. Adding to the mix were obnoxious paparazzi, surrounding Jon’s table next to ours. When one of them went so far as to start bumping another writer’s wife, Sheryl took revenge by throwing a shrimp at his back. One final crustacean story: We walked by the “Six Feet Under” table, where we saw actor Matthew St. Patrick (“Keith”) sitting alone, ferociously chomping his shrimp in solitude, while wait-staffers tried to entertain him.

On the way out, we all got one last walk on the red carpet. For J.R.’s mother Gloria, this was a last golden opportunity to meet celebrities. After all, what Hollywood liberal can resist a woman in a wheelchair holding an Emmy? As we finished exchanging pleasantries with Glenn Close, Gloria asked in a soft voice, “Is that a Jeremy Piven?” Imagine our surprise to hear, “Why yes it is,” and see the “Entourage” co-star pivot a quick 180 to reach down and shake Gloria’s hand. Later, during the somewhat lengthy wait for our limo, Sheryl chatted with “Office” star Mackenzie Crook (“Gareth”), who was double-earringed, smoking, and quietly contemplating a tree.

Our driver took us to the Comedy Central after-party, held at a club (“Meson G”) in West Hollywood. Jon and the Daily Show correspondents made an appearance there, as did Reno 911’s Cedric Yarbrough (“Jones”) and a surprisingly tall, Chinese-shirt-wearing, constantly yelling, Quentin Tarantino. It took Rob some time to make it through the crowd surrounding Tarantino to request an autograph for a friend. Though Tarantino was kind enough to give it, we still haven’t figured out why exactly he was at a Comedy Central party.

But the most amusing “celebrity” sighting, at least to us, took place the next day at Burbank airport, when we were waiting to fly back to New York. Sitting across from us, waiting to board the same flight on discount, first-class-free carrier Jet Blue, was NBC President Jeff Zucker, the man many hold responsible for turning the #1 network into #4. Doesn’t bode well if even the Peacock is flying discount coach. Though don’t be surprised if next season’s shows have a lot of tie-ins to Terra Blue potato chips.

As it happened, the most telling Emmy moment also happened at Burbank International. Having stowed his 18-inch tall, sharp-winged metal implement into a carry-on bag, Rob sent it through the X-ray machine, where naturally it showed up to the screeners. Their only question about the statue, no doubt spurred by years in Hollywood: “Is it real?”

Our best answer: “Just for one night.”

---Rob & Sheryl

Oslo on the Hudson

Last night I (briefly) played host to a wandering party of Norwegian media types, brought to me by Charles Coxe, an old college buddy-turned-Maxim-editor (the classic coming-of-stage story in Manhattan), and cousin of one of them. All worked for various branches of the Youth Dep't of Norwegian Public Television (http://nrk.no/) - "youth" being defined as 15-30. Some worked in radio, some in TV - mostly producing music and comedy variety shows, from the sound of it, one on the Web. They had evidently seen our show, though couldn't recall which European outlet that had been on.

Unfortunately, although the taping time had been announced as 7:00, it actually got underway a bit earlier, so by the time they arrived, they'd missed the first act, the most "written" part of the show. So I offered them a backup plan: In my office (took some chairwork - there were 5 of them plus Charles), I'd let them watch a tape of last night's show.

After some "24"-like frantic inter-office paging to locate a researcher who supposedly last had the tape, I came upon it. It was all for the better, as last night (5/2)'s episode, was, I thought, a better demonstration for foreign eyes of what the show is capable of. A nice, balanced breakdown of the President's speech, and a memorable take on Laura's off-color horse joke.

Over pre-dinner cocktails and a massive, Americans-are-pigs-stereotype-confirming, Super Size-me-esque mound of fried finger-foods (the "small" plate, no less!) at nearby Bar Nine, the Norwegians confessed that our Laura bit -- in which our production coordinator Gina Brown, doing a breathtaking impression, has the First Lady extend the president-accidentally-"milked"-a-male-horse joke into double-equine-fellation-semen-ablution territory -- struck even them as going too far, and their culture is relatively less Puritanical. They expressed shock when, while relating what I'd been working on that day, I mentioned the new Clearplay filter, just approved by Congress, a device that parents attach to their DVDs, to automatically skip past the objectionable parts.

I tried to defend this as at least being an individual-choice-driven solution, but they couldn't get past the "censorship" part. You'd think that, living next to Sweden, they'd be in favor of anything that occasionally lets you fast-forward through a periodically unwatchable film.

What shocked them about our piece, though, was not the sexual content, but the ad hominem attack on a political figure. They told me that a recent Prime Minister, also a priest, had had a breakdown and been lampooned as such in the media. But he specifically called for them to stop such depicitions, claiming it went too far. But Norwegian outlets continued on doing it, they told me.

On our way to the bar, we'd run into Ben Karlin, our Executive Producer. He looked appropriately befuddled when I explained who the group was. He recounted a time when he and Jon had done a press junket in Norway, but gotten no laughs. I assured him that they laughed plenty at the taped episode I'd shown them - later on, Sindra, Charles' cousin, told me that the voice of the show seemed amenable to Europeans, that he appreciated its "bite." Naturally, the joke that I'd contributed - how, unlike Sinatra, Cheney ate scrambled *eggbeaters* off a hooker's chest - had no bite and was veiled in a reference they didn't get it. Even 2.5 years in here, I still ultimately brought a Dennis Miller Live picture jibe (Cheney heart joke).

One of the fellows, Nico, a curly-locked, earring-studded, usually smoking director-producer of variety/music shows, told me how he ended up where he is now. After college, he said, Norwegians are required to join the military or - as he put it it with a smirk - "ask not to." However to opt out, you have to state a profession, then take an entry-level position in it. So he chose television. TV or the Army - talk about your Hobson's Choice.

NY Encounters: Do As I Say, Not As I Diet

Sheryl and I were waiting in line at our local Rite Aid, debating the question of why Chinese food makes you hungry later. Sheryl said because it's salty, creating thirst, which can be mistaken for hunger. I was skeptical of this, but just then the woman in front of us in line chimed in, "She's right. I learned all about this in Weight Watchers." In classic New Yorker Unsolicited Advice fashion (a la at the Mediterranean restaurant, the strangers dining next to Sheryl and me and Robin and Scott who leaned over and started giving Scott furniture advice), she starts rambling on about this. But just then, a cashier was open, so the woman went over to her and paid -- for her three Rolos and seven Hershey's bars.

NY Encounters: Making Samaritans Bad

Sheryl and I were walking on W. 66th, and just about to turn onto West End, when we saw a small, somewhat frail, older woman (late 70s), laden with grocery bags, fall in the slushy post-snow conditions... in the middle of W. 66th. We helped her to her feet, and she said she was unhurt. Still, she seemed a bit shaken, so we took her bags, each offered her an arm, and walked her home. The woman - whose name we learned was Dell - remarked that it was sad how she fell in the snow, considering that she used to be a skiier. She said she still had her skis, and was considering trying them once more. Sheryl and I encouraged her to go for it, no doubt thinking, "Good for her - at her age, trying to stay active..."

We walked along Freedom Place, which Dell informed us, was named for Goodman, of Cheney, Schwerner, and Goodman (killed in Mississippi during Freedom Summer, the subject of "Mississippi Burning") but Trump Place had not put up the memorial plaque for him they'd promised. She said she might have a word with them about this, which I (somewhat condescendingly) thought kind of an amusing image. But as we approached her home, it became clear she actually lives at Trump Place, as part of the 20% of low-income apartments the building was required to provide.

We left Dell inside an entrance and were about to depart when she reached into her pocketbook, saying she wanted to give us something. Expecting money and an awkward moment of refusal, we were pretty surprised when she instead said, "I co-own a store that sells..." Flowers? Fabrics? Objets d'art? "...sexuality products for couples." She produced from her bag a business card, reading, "Eve's Garden - We grow pleasurable things for women." (www.evesgarden.com)

When they say no good deed goes unpunished, I didn't realize they meant with a freshly purchased leather whip.

What is Pastafazoola?

My dearly departed grandfather Albert Miller - the inspiration for my humor and this blog - and I used to say a lot of silly catch-phrases to each other, from my boyhood right through his passing just over a month ago. One of our favorite standbys was "Pastafazoola!" - Grandpa's silly-ization of the Italian beans-and-pasta soup "Pasta i fagioli." Why he liked saying this (he was Jewish, not Italian), and in this particular fashion, must remain a mystery for all time. However, I am open to any and all theories. So get on it, people!