Easy answer

Joanne Herring: Why is Congress saying one thing and doing nothing?
Charlie Wilson: Well, tradition mostly.

- portrayed by Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks

Charlie Wilson's War, 2007

R.I.P., Congressman Charlie Wilson (1933-2010).

Late-breaking news. Emphasis on "late"

I think it's great that the New York Times is so assiduous about citing reporters whose work helps produce published articles.

But I'm wondering if the credit line that appeared at the end of this article was, technically, completely necessary. Keep in mind, this ran in a story (about the death of legendary CBS News producer Don Hewitt) that was published August 19, 2009.

That's 2009, as in seven years after 2002.



Is it extra creepy that this appears at the end of an obituary? (Personally, I'm wondering if the Times editor felt compelled to add something like "... He just wasn't aware of it at the time.")

Well, either way, RIP Don Hewitt. And, while I'm at it, RIP Walter Goodman, too. Heck of a reporting job.

Statue of limitations

Don't you think this incident, gnarly but somehow poetic, seems like something that would have happened in a Quentin Tarantino movie?

Sure enough, it happened in real life. Thanks, Drunk Belarusian Dude.

Occasionally, death is creepy

The phone rings Monday night and it's my mom.

Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom (excitedly, without pausing to say something like "Hello"): You going to the funeral?
Me (trying to remember if a relative or close friend had died in the previous 24 hours): Huh?
Mom: Michael Jackson's!

Oh. That.

Of course, I did think for a few minutes about entering the lottery for the KOP's memorial service, but despite my love for recently deceased individuals who I've never met, large crowds, driving to Dodger Stadium to wait in line for stuff, Los Angeles traffic made worse by widespread street closures, and things that are generally overwrought, I decided against it. Sounds crazy, I know, but I think the right time to get Michael Jackson tickets was actually about 25 years ago.

And so I determined to skip the big to-do at Staples Center yesterday. But like any good child of the 80s, I did tune in for some of the online coverage.

There were plenty of creepy moments, ranging from slightly uncomfortable to cringeworthy - I'm looking at you, singing-to-the-casket-Usher - but I especially liked these two (click to enlarge images):

1) Video Michael reaches out for a low-five from Brooke Shields.


2) City of Los Angeles asks mourners to kick in a little coin to pay for all of the city's hard work in shutting down most of downtown for a day - with the clever spin that it would give Jackson "the world-class memorial he deserves." Right.

Sold! And why Tuesday is the new Monday

I'm just starting to read up on new Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayor, but if our old pal Mitt (Schlag) Romney is against her, I feel like my decision is probably made.

I'm sure thrilled that today is the beginning of a four-day work week, but Tuesday is still off to a sucky start because (listed in chronological order of when I read and/or tasted them, not in order of importance)...

1) I read that former Wilco member Jay Bennett died this weekend. Bennett was an influential part of the band when it recorded the albums that are by far my two favorite, Summerteeth and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. 

Although I think all of Wilco's music has been interesting since Bennett was fired, it's not nearly as much fun anymore - an assertion that I think is strongly supported by the band's latest, Wilco (the album), which is online now and being released soon. In an NPR music blog, one reader referred to Wilco's recent music as "dad rock," which, sadly, I had to agree with. But someone once told me never to speak ill of a recently deceased multi-instrumentalist's former bandmates, so I'll leave it there. Point is, Bennett helped create some of the songs that became my favorites during the past 10 years, and it's sad that he's gone. R.I.P., Jay Bennett.

2) I cracked open my Trader Joe's Essential Greens Veggie smoothie? juice? residue-in-a-bottle? for some healthy, mid-morning refreshment and - I probably should have figured this out from the photos of cucumber, kale, spinach, parsley and probably fungus on the packaging, but - blecccccchhhhhhhhh. Maybe it's considered healthy because it's crushing my will to eat or drink anything else today. 

I think it's ironic that where the expiration date is printed on the bottle, instead of "Use by" or "Drink by," this item has "Enjoy by May 29." I don't think so. I don't think there's a date by which I will enjoy this.

3) The California Supreme Court missed a really big chance to do the right thing when the justices voted not to overturn the unfair state law created by Prop 8. Other states have figured out this issue. Can not figure out why it's so tricky in this state, which was once considered to be progressive. On the plus side, more protest marches coming up, I'm sure.

Still, I'm determined to finish this veggie drink. Maybe if I add some sugar, things will start to turn around.

Mouse memorial

The Internet sure does let people get news out quickly.

Which is why you have to be impressed that the L.A. Times was able to report today that Wayne Allwine, the actor who was the most recent voice of Mickey Mouse died ... three days ago. I'm not saying I really needed to know about this on Monday, the day Mr. Allwine left us, but it does seem kind of strange that the paper of record in Los Angeles took so long to bring us the story, considering he lived, worked, and died here, and that the Mouse is sort of an institution.

I'm going to guess that most of the newspaper's remaining entertainment "reporters" have been tied up making sure they had up-to-the-nanosecond blog coverage of more important stuff like Idol (OMG! What an upset!) and DWTS (OMG! That's all I can think of!).

Anyway, if you're into this kind of thing, one interesting note about Allwine was that he had been married since 1991 to Russi Taylor, the woman who voiced Minnie Mouse. How sweet, right? And, if you're really into this kind of thing, here's video of the couple being interviewed about how they got the gigs.

Unfortunately, I really don't have any interesting Mickey-related stories for you. But - hey, here's an idea - feel free to share your own in the comments space below. Or add yourself as a follower over there in the right sidebar. Mickey would want you to.

Remembering Harry

Hall of Fame sports announcer Harry Kalas died yesterday. I was fortunate enough to meet him once, a few years ago, when I was working as the spotter for a national radio broadcast of a Chicago Bears game that Mr. Kalas was announcing.

I was probably a bit awestruck - he really was a legend - so I don't think I talked to him other than to introduce myself a few minutes before the game started. But it was such a treat to hear that iconic baritone in person. Hard to explain, but I guess it was the sports fan's equivalent of sitting on stage while Yo Yo Ma played a cello concerto. He was completely prepared, completely in control, and - unlike some other big-name announcers I met in the booth - completely unassuming. Other than that, I only have two memories of that experience.

One is that this man who made a living off of his voice regularly snuck cigarettes during timeouts. Of course, smoking wasn't allowed in the radio booth, but who was going to stop Mr. Kalas? (Apparently the cigarettes were an open secret - a few Philadelphia Phillies players lit up yesterday in what I thought was a fairly odd tribute.)

The other is that Campbell's Chunky soup ads played during a few of the commercial breaks. At the time, the ads were narrated by Mr. Kalas because of his close association with NFL football. And each time they came on, the radio producer would call out to those of us in the booth, "Ka-Ching!" - the sound of another Campbell's royalty check for the announcer - which got a chuckle out of Mr. Kalas.

Unfortunately, that was about the extent of my interaction with the master, but thinking about the time I sepnt in the radio booth at Soldier Field reminds me of one funny story.

A year or two earlier, I was in the booth for a Sunday night game and the temperature was probably about 10 F, with a wind chill below zero. And for some reason, the window to our booth had to stay open, which was... awesome. I think I was wearing about three pairs of pants and six shirts and sweaters under some kind of arctic parka, none of which seemed to make a difference.

I forget who the play-by-play announcer was that day, but former NFL running back John Riggins was handling color commentary. Every few minutes during the broadcast, the announcers would remind listeners how freaking cold it was, which must have made for great radio. Anyway, during a commercial break, someone from the radio crew mentioned to John that, despite the frigid conditions, the guy sitting behind us who was working the controls was not - I repeat, not - wearing socks.

As soon as he got back on the air, John shared this with the national radio audience: "They just told me that Mike, our sound guy, isn't wearing socks. That reminds me of something John Wayne once said in a movie. 'Life is hard. But it's especially hard when you're stupid.'"

Going to the great Fantasy Island in the sky

God speed, Ricardo Montalban.

This might be a little insensitive, but I'm wondering if the interior of his casket will feature soft Corinthian leather. (The phrase was often mistakenly imitated by comedians - or whoever else imiated Ricardo Montalban - as "rich Corinthian leather," but it turns out the leather was soft, not rich.)

Quick aside: If you click the Corinthian link above, you'll be treated to a video of Montalban in an ad for the 1975 Chrysler Coronado. The actor is great. The car? Well, I know it was 34 years ago, but let's just say that seeing vomit-inducing styling like that, it becomes much easier to understand why American automakers are now begging for help.

Studs

What a crappy way to end the week.

This, I mean. (Click here, too, because the Times gets the headline right - but definitely read Rick Kogan's piece in the Tribune.)

One of the understated highlights - I don't know if that phrase makes sense, but I hope you catch my drift - of the thousands of days I spent in Chicago was meeting Studs Terkel at a cocktail reception for a community journalism project. He was, of course, wearing a shirt that looked exactly like the one he's wearing here, which I gather was true almost all of the time.

I'd be getting in over my head to explain why I thought it was so cool to meet him, but for one thing, he was the author of The Good War, one of the very few books I read all the way through during college. Although he was born in New York - his family moved to the Windy City before his teens - he was unmistakably, charmingly Chicagoan. Oh, and he had a cameo as a writer in Eight Men Out, which I always thought was cool.

In the way he culled great stories from thoughtful interviews, Studs was It to generations of journalists and other writers.

Hoosier brother?

So, first I see the headline - "T. Norbu, Dalai Lama’s Brother, Dies at 86" - and I'm thinking: It would be hard enough to have a famous sibling on the order of Bill Clinton, or even, um, Hilary Duff. But your younger brother is the Dalai Lama? That would pretty much suck every time you went home for a visit with mom and dad, wouldn't it? (How many Nobel Peace Prizes did you win this year, junior?)

But no. Turns out this Norbu dude was considered to be a reincarnated saint, so I guess he could hold his own at the family reunion.

I'm also assuming he's the only reincarnated saint ever to have died in Bloomington, Indiana.

In a world...

Big day for movie-related posts, apparently.

This is sucky news: Don LaFontaine, whose ridiculously awesome voice gave gravitas to craploads (that's an approximate number) of movie trailers, is headed to the big sound booth in the sky.

If you're as strange as I am, here's a video worth watching about the Don of Voiceovers.

WWWFD*

(* What would Will Ferrell do?)

Not sure exactly where I'm headed with this post, but here goes nothing. It's about an obit for a newscaster I'd never heard of until today, but as I dug in, some of the links ended up being kind of interesting, tragicomic or just comic, so I thought I'd share.

Looking at the Chicago Tribune's site this morning, I noticed a headline for a story on the death of Ron Hunter (as it turns out, a stage name he chose to sound more middle-American), a former Windy City TV news anchor, who in the 70s shared a desk with Maury Povich and Jane Pauley. Journalism doesn't get much better than that, does it?

Anyway, the obit also had a link to a 12-year-old story from the Tribune archives about Hunter's rapid and stunning fall from grace -- from earning six figures in Chicago in the late 70s (which should have bought him unlimited steaks at Gene & Georgetti, or just about anything else) to getting fired from jobs in smaller markets, having his wife commit suicide and having to steal $3 worth of food from his neighbor. The gist of the story seemed to be that all of this happened because he was such an arrogant blowhard that nobody could stand working with him, despite his fabulous head of hair.

A Google search led me to a site called Forgotten Buffalo -- wait, isn't that redundant? -- which had this, um, interesting remembrance and photo gallery on Hunter. The classy 70s photos alone are worth the price you've paid by reading this entire post. You'll note that the site references Ron Burgundy, Will Ferrell's character in Anchorman, and after reading all of this stuff, I suspect Ron Hunter may actually have been the inspiration for that movie.

RIP.

Moment of silence...

... for the late, great Bo Diddley.

I thought this obituary in the Times was really well done, particularly the passage that explains the so-called Diddley Beat, which became one of the most influential licks in rock music. As the piece describes, it's the foundation of hundreds of songs, from Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away" to Bruce Springsteen's "She's the One" to U2's "Desire" -- all pretty excellent tunes.

It's tough to describe in print -- something like dum-dum-dum (breath) dum-dum -- but the Times also has a neat audio slide show from a 2003 interview where you can hear the beat and Diddley describing its genesis. Just go here and then select the "Signature Beat" item.

I'd venture that most people who are my age, myself included, remember Bo best for his appearance in Nike's "Bo Knows" ads in the late 80s and early 90s. (One of the best ad campaigns ever, by the way, and definitely worth watching -- although you non-sports fans would need to know that the ads star Bo Jackson, who made a huge splash at the time by being an all-star performer in both pro baseball and the NFL.) But knowing more about Diddley and his influence, I'll have to check out some of those old recordings.