Tuesday Factoid

The odds on a piece of buttered bread falling butter side up on a carpet are directly proportional to the cost of the carpet.

A Glock 9mm beats for Aces in a game of Texas Hold 'em.

If a dog is man's best friend, then a cat is an Asian food delicacy.

If two wrongs do not make a right, then two Wrights make an airplane. 

Nine out of ten doctors surveyed say that they would not be surveyed again.  

Out of the 27 side effects of the flu drug Flangelsta 26 of them are the same as having the flu.

Everyone that ate home grown tomatoes in 1832 is dead.  

100 our of 17 people are poor at math.

A comic is someone who says funny things.  A clown is someone who says things funny.  That makes me a... ventriloquist.

Observing the Herd

I am about to get my land legs back after a trip at sea.  Between Newark and Bermuda we encountered high winds and a pretty good chop to the ocean.  For me there is something very relaxing about a ship that is rocking and rolling.  It reminds me of being rocked in a cradle before the "Bough Breaks." 

It never dawns on me that the motion is an issue to some passengers until I see pouches of "vomit bags" placed on the stair well of each deck.  That is when it becomes clear to me that most people do not share my love of the angry sea.  

Now in total honesty, when I am alone on a ship, I become a guiltless people watcher.  I pass the time watching those who are on vacation trying to get along.  I have come to the conclusion that some people save up for a long time to take a cruise so they can  have heated arguments about what to do for fun. While trying to appear that I am uninvolved with anything other than my iPad, I observe body language and study the countless types of people on board.  Since the odds are that I will be able to observe the same people for several days, I imagine what their stories might be.  Grandparents traveling with a grandkid, honeymooners, Old people who can barely make it down the corridor (part of a bucket list I assume), extremely large whale like humans being propelled by sit down scooters, and some of the worst examples of tattoos and  body art that one can imagine, are all fodder for my bored imagination. If they only knew the world they occupy in my sea fairing pastime.   

On day two of the trip I went to the Windjammer Buffet to have lunch. People were having trouble walking on deck due to the pitch and roll of the ship. The Windjammer is on one of the highest decks so the motion is much more pronounced.   I noticed a table occupied by a family with matching neon day glow colored tee shirts that said,  "The Bufano's - Bermuda or Bust".  Those shirts were hard to miss.  One of the little girls was looking quite pale leaning up against her Mom.  She wasn't eating nor did she look like that was even a possibility.  The Mother repositioned the little girl who came to rest on the shoulder of her older siister who was perhaps eight.  The sister did not have the same compassion for little sister's current situation and continued to eat. The Mother left the table to refill a drink. 

A moment or two later I hear the splatter of some viscus liquid hitting the floor of the dining hall.  Before I can quantify what the sound is I hear the scream of an eight year old girl followed immediately by a very loud call to her mother, "MOM.... PUKE!"  The word "puke" ricocheted  around the restaurant full blast. 

Like a herd of Antelope sensing an approaching lion, every head in the Windjammer turned in unison to the table of neon clad Bufano's.  The little girl continued heaving after covering the table, the deck and her sister with rejected breakfast.  

I suppressed a natural gag reflex as did others in the Antelope herd, and following the lead of most, excused myself from the area.  I fled quickly to a more pleasant deck no longer interested in the second act of the Bufano Story.  I assume the day glow shirt was washable. 

So here is my take away from this experience.  Next time I decide to enjoy the rock and roll of the Atlantic Ocean, I will enjoy it with room service, alone in my cabin.

As you were,

Jay

So... You Made it.

It was going to be an easy trip. I had been home for less than 12 hours after a trip from Atlanta, but the trip to Hailfax, Nova Scotia was just another day for a road warrior like myself.  I got my upgrade so I settled into my first class  seat ready for the flight, everything seemed to be AOK. How quicky things change.

I was connecting on my trip to the East coast of Canada via Chicago.  Chicago is a fine town but the airport is the black hole of air travel.  I rarelly change planes in Chicago without a two hour layover; this time it was only an hour but the weather couldn't have been more perfect for the trip. No worries. 

The pilot suddenly made an announcement.  It seems  the galley floor needed to be inspected by the mechanics. The mechanics had been called but the estimation was an hour before they could certify us to fly.  We would be more than an hour late to Chicago.  Any connections less than two hours of lay over time in Chicago were in trouble.  

There are two options given us unfortunate travelers.  One: stay on the plane, and they would try and get us to our destinations via another flight from Chicago. Two: get off  and rebook on another flight.  I called the main office of Royal Caribbean who had booked the flight. She checked her schedule and there were no flights to Nova Scotia that would work out of Chicago.  Even if I spent the night in Chicago, which the airline would pay for, all the flights the next day got me in too late to catch the ship I was contracted to work.  I took my carry-ons and left the comfort of my first class seat.

The customer service desk was swamped with 40 other people who were in the same situation as me.  It was 45 minutes before I got to a talk to a frazzled agent. The mechanics had signed off on the repairs and the Chicago flight was calling for all passengers to return immediately for take off.  

I explained my delimna to the agent.  I said, "Unless we can get my bag off that flight to Chicago there is no reason for me to make this trip."  The checked bag was undeniably connected to my reason for traveling that day.  She excused herself and  headed for the tarmack.  The jet way was being disconnected from the plane. There was no way to get my bag off that plane.

I called the office again and told them my situation.  The reality is... if I was not on the ship by the next day there would be no way to join it because it would be at sea.  I was trying to resign myself to the idea that I would be back home sooner than I thought.

But the United Airlines agent found a way to get me to Halifax before the ship sailed.  In thirty minutes there was a flight to Newark, New Jersey. At 7:00am the next morning there was a flight from Newark to Halifax.  I could make it.  "What about the checked bag?" I said.  

She explained that since it was an international flight to Hailfax from Chicago they would pull my bag after it got to Chicago if I wasn't on the flight. Then they could direct it to where ever I was. In fact there was a Chicago to Newark flight that would arrive before I did... my bag was going to be waiting for me when I landed.  

I ran to the gate to catch the Newark flight.  We took off. I have an app on my iPhone that registers stress.  The reading said, "Stress level very high... close your eyes and take deep breaths."

It was evening when I got to Newark.  I proceeded to baggage claim to get my bag.  Indeed it had not gotten there before I me. 

"The only thing I show on my screen is that the bag was checked in LA to Chicago." Said the agent.  I explained my situation and how I had to be on a ship before it sailed with that bag or... there was no reason from me continue my trip.  I also said that I would not get on a plane out of the country unless I had the bag with me. The options were very limited but she understood I was desparate.  

She dialed Chicago and after several unanswered calls an actual human answered.  We described my bag and the situation. The person said.  "Oh yes the bag is right here. It just arrive at the baggage office. We were wondering what to do with it." The Newark baggage agent said that bag had to be on the plane to Newark leaving Chicago in thirty minutes... it was the last flight that would work.  

The Newark agent said not to worry,  the bag would be delivered to the hotel room when the plane landed at 2:30 am.  Having run this drill before I said, "What is the turn around time to deliver the bag once it arrives?" In Los Angeles it is a minimun of 5 hours.  I said, "I am afraid that it will be delivered after I have checked out of the hotel to make the Hailfax plane tomorrow morning." She agreed that there was a possibliity of me and the bag missing each other at the hotel.  We decided the bag should stay at the airport and I could pick it up in the morning before my flight.  Unfortuantely it would arrive at the domestic terminal and I would be leaving from the Internationa terminal. I would need to pick the bag up no later than 5:30am to make it.  She said, "I will make a note to hold it here for you to pick up."   With that reassurance I proceeded to the Ramada Airport hotel for a very uncomfortable night's sleep.  I was up and out of the room by 5:00am.  I caught the bus to the domestic terminal and by 5:25 I was back at the very baggage desk I had been to only hours earlier.  

The morning shift agent was very nice.  She told me that indeed that bag had arrived on the early morning flight. I began to breath again but stopped when she said, "The truck just left to deliver the bags to the hotel."  I told her that it was supposed to be left here for me to pick up. She typed a little bit on the computer and said... "I don't see that note here."  

I was done.  Foiled by the joys of air travel. It was my last attempt to make it to the ship with my act. I was glad this happened before I left the country but it was of little solice.  The agent said, "What does the bag look like?" I told her and she went into the back storage room of baggage claim.  It took a long time for her to return. I was sure if I used the stress app. it would say.... "Go to the emergency room immediately".   The door to the back room opened and there she was... with my bag. There was a hand written note attached in bold letters.  HOLD FOR MR. JOHNSON TO PICK UP.   I rushed to the International terminal and, against my better senses checked it in again.

I slept like a baby on the flight to Canada.  It seemed I dodged a bullet and would actually be able to fulfill my contract on the Explorer of the Seas, next stop the ship.  But there was one more test of my resolve to entertain the aged passengers already on board.  Canadian immigration. 

The officer said as he looked the computer screen, "You have worked in Canada before?"  

"Yes, 20 years ago I did an American Television series that filmed in Vancouver." 

"Were you asked to leave?"

"No.  The series only went for half a season."

"Have you ever been arrested? Spent time in jail? Convicted of any offense?'

"No"

"Not at all? Ever?" Said the officer implying that it was a total lie.

"I got a speeding ticket 12 years ago on the Ventura Freeway."

"Driving too fast were you, eay?"  I didn't know what to answer to that question.  When I don't know what to say I usually go for the quip.

"I owned a BMW M3 at the time... It would idol at 85 mph."  He looked at me over his half glasses like a high school principle.

"How long will you be working in Canada?"

"I won't be working here."

"How long will you be here in Canada?"

"Long enough to drive to the dock and board the Explorer of the Seas."

"Where is that?"

"Next to the bay I would imagine."

"When will you do your shows?"

"I have no idea.  When ever the Cruise Director has me scheduled in the next week."

"So you will be here a week?"

"No sir... on the ship for a week.  I am on the ship till it gets to Bermuda."

"Do you have a work visa from Bermuda?"

"I'm not working in Bermuda.  I'm not even staying in Bermuda.  I get off the ship and go to the airport." 

He began to type and read the screen. Type some more and read again.  Finally I said very politely, "Can you get word to my driver who is waiting for me in the lobby? He may think I missed my flight again and leave."

"You missed a flight earlier? Why?"

"Faulty Galley floor on a United 747, I think."

"A flight from Newark?"

"No Los Angeles."

"You arrived on a flight from Newark New Jersey."

"Long story but it was the only way to get here before the ship leaves."

"Who paid for your flights?"

"Royal Caribean Cruiselines. And they are expecting me on the ship...If my ride leaves...."

"Well, you are about done here.  I just have to check your arrest record."

"I don't have a fucking arrest record you brainless idiot. I am a ventriloquist just trying to earn a living by getting on a ship, and I made it here by the skin of my teeth. Fuck you Fuck Canada and Fuck the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

No, I didn't say that... I was thinking it... but  better judgment took hold at that moment.

He was finally done with me.  I connected with my bag which had been taken off the belt and waiting to be sent to lost luggage. I was the only one left in the terminal. Except for the Customs agents it was completely empty of humans. I could see the exit and prayed there would be someone there with my name on a sign.  

The officer at the exit stopped me and pointed me toward a small room.  It was time for another officer to "check my luggage". Holy Mother of Pearl, it was time to start all over.  

"How long will you be in Canada?"

"Less than half an hour."

"Where will you be working?"  Bla Bla Bla.....take two. 

This lady officer asked me to open the "head box". I told her it was fragile but she gloved up. 

"You have anything sharp inside, any needles or anything that might stick me or hurt me?"

"No..."

With that she took a dive into the case. 

"What is that?"

"A puppet head"

 "What is all this fur?"

"A monkey."

"Is it an indangered species of Monkey?"

"I don't think so. It's a puppet. I use him in my act." 

"What kind of fur is it?"

"Monkey fur...I mean artificial monkey...uh...puppet fur.... it didn't come from an animal it came from a textile factory." 

"Where is that factory located?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask." 

She let me have the head box back to repack. Then she went through every item in my breif case.  She examined the change that had fallen to the bottom of the case and counted it in her hand. She asked me what the medicene was for in a perscription bottle. 

I said, "Anxiety and stress.  As a matter of fact I could used one now... could I get a glass of water?"

"There is no eating or drinking in the inspection area, Sir."  

She even took out my iPad... turned it on and scrolled through all the apps.  She then found the Pages app and scanned some of my essays and writings. She read a paragraph from each page to herself.  I thought it was funny that she moved her lips a little with each word.  Thank God she did not open an art app to see the depressingly dark images I love to draw.   

"You a writer? What do you write?"

"Stories about my travels.  I think I am going to be very busy writing about my last two days." 

And with that she left all my stuff on the counter for me to replace in the breif case and vanished into the back room.  I assummed I was free to go, but was not sure until Jimmy the driver was on the road to the dock and out of the airport property.  

On board ship the officer at the pursers desk said, "How was your trip from California?"

"My bags went to Chicago. I went to Newark. We connected again at 5:30am this morning after a miserable night in an Airport Ramada Inn and the Canadians kept me at immigration for over an hour." 

It was a rhetorical question. He was not listening nor even interested.

"So you made it.  Welcome aboard."  

"Glad to be here",  I said and really,  nothing else mattered.

As you were,

Jay

The Girl in the Scandalously Short Red Dress

Sandi Asbury-Johnson front and center in
"The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas"

I have watched my wife dance in all kinds of productions.  I can pick her out of a line of dancers even if they are wigged and wardrobed exactly the same moving around in frantic artistry.  Instinctively my eye goes right to her no matter where she happens to be dancing at that moment.  It is a skill/habit that I embrace with great pride.

This is a picture from the movie, "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas".  The beautiful lady in the center in the scandalously short red dress is my wife. Sandi was one of the "whores" in the movie with Dolly Parton and Burt Reynolds.
It is not the only movie Sandi has done in her incredible career, but by nature of the subject matter perhaps the "sexiest" one.  This is the beginning of a dance number where they strip down to g-strings. Before they were finished filming that number I was thrown off the set.   It wasn't personal there were just too many people trying to watch that day and I was absolutely not essential to the production.

Years after the movie was released I was in Atlantic City performing.  A friend came to visit me from New York.  After my show he wanted to see some of the other shows in town and invited me to go with him.  He wanted to see a "drag queen" review that was at a different Hotel.  There was nothing better to do on that night so I went with him.
The star of the drag show was a Dolly Parton impersonator.  He/she was very good and I suppose if you can't see the real Dolly, this illusion works for some.  If you don't have a real Rolex a knock off watch will still tell you the time.
For the finale of Faux Dolly's act several other he/she dancers joined her/him on stage.  They recreated a production number from "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" down to the original Tony Stevens choreography and costumes.  I have to say after watching that movie countless times they did a very accurate recreation.
As I sipped my cocktail trying to remember I was watching a troupe of men I found myself tracking one particular dancer on stage. My eye went right to the same dancer almost ignoring the rest of the cast.  It was a guy in puffy hair and a scandalously short red dress.  At first I just thought I was drawn to the red color but then it hit me.  This drag queen was performing Sandi's part in the movie down to her costume. I was entranced by a drag queen on stage impersonating my wife.  The number ended to a big ovation, but I was still trying to come to grips with the fact that I had strange feelings of attraction to the boy/girl in the scandalously short red dress.  Life sometimes throws you a curve.  

As you were,
Jay  

To the Moon Alice.

Between reports of ISIS beheadings, Humas rocket attacks and the Syrian uprising the Constant Conflict News (CNN) was able to report on home fed American violence this week.  Ray Rice and sparing partner Janay were all over the news defending their right to practice Cage Boxing in Atlantic City elevators.  

The NFL players who have been in trouble with the law is not news nor is it a short list.  There have been charges of rape, murder, abuse, drug dealing and assault to name only a few.  Some have served jail terms, been released and returned to their "out of proportion salaries" as football players.  Michael Vick comes immediately to mind.  But then he was only violent toward dogs.

Here are a few facts that can not be separated from the "story" of Ray Rice. 1) The NFL is a multi- billion dollar business in America and winning teams make more money. 2) Players are not people, they are the raw material used in the manufacture of this NFL product called sports. 3)  Lastly and most importantly, the NFL is the passive promoter of a very violent business. 

There is a pretense of thinking professional football is a sporting contest but it is only the modern day PC version of gladiators in the Roman Colosseum.  At least we do not kill players on the field anymore.  However, death and disability due to repeated head injuries years after the players are too old to play is just now being considered.  Obviously the difference between us and the Romans is the length of time it takes for a gladiator to die. 

Football players become rich and famous if successful. They become role models valuable to advertisers who want to sell the products that they endorse.  However, they are not hired because they can sing or dance or tell a great joke. They are hired to play in a violent physical game.  

There is little doubt that violence is encouraged in the sport.  In recent years teams have been fined for encouraging injuries to the opposing team with bonus checks.  They never use the actual word "violence", they call it toughness, or hard tackles. 

So in this industry of inflicting injury the players are not taught manners, sensitivity and normal human interactions. They are taught to hit, hurt and immediately react to a quick snap with all the fury they have. Why then are we surprised when some of these players can't turn off that knee jerk violence when not on the field.  

Ray Rice reacted as football groomed him when his wife did something or said something he didn't like in an Atlantic City elevator in February.   Ray saw someone step over the line and he reacted violently to stop them cold in their advance.  This is not to say that men in other professions do not abuse women, but only in this case does it come from on the job training.  

On "The Honeymooners" Ralph Cramden used to threaten Alice with a balled up fist.  He would say "One of these days, Alice. One of these days,  bam zoom... to the moon." Threatened spousal abuse passed for humor back in the late fifties.  But it is now as dated as the flat painted sets of a black and white sitcom.  Today we are horrified to see a grainy black and white video of a man actually carrying out the Cramden bam zoom threat. 

Ray Rice may or may not play football again.  It doesn't matter he is not ground zero for the problem. Until violence is no longer profitable, and playing a game is more important than winning there will be no change.   

Like work horses professional football players will be trained, encouraged and rewarded for going into a blind rage when they hear the word "hike".  The kind of human they become when not on the field is not the concern of the NFL... unless it affects the cash flow.  When no longer able to hit the hardest or run the fastest they will be turned out to pasture.  Or in the case of Ray Rice... fired because he exposed the underbelly of professional sports. 

If a picture is worth a thousand words... a grainy elevator security video must be worth millions of words. But they are not the words of one man's violence toward his wife, it is a cautionary tale about the hypocrisy Americans have toward violence itself.

As you were,

Jay

Thank you Joan Rivers

I guess if I were to script the exit of an 81year old female comic, she would do one last great show at a club, go into a coma and die a week later.  That seems to be the way it was with Joan Rivers, she did it her way and made a quick exit.

When a comic is so much of the moment, so prolific and has no filter on her pointed wit, humor is sometimes eclipsed by their acerbic nature. That is to say, sometimes I think Joan Rivers went too far in her quest for the joke. I often found myself laughing out of embarrassment.  But I did laugh, even if I thought the joke was a little cruel, there is no doubt it was funny.  There is no line in the sand, funny is funny even if to laugh is sometime against polite society or political correctness. 

Joan influenced so many comics, blazing the trail for female comedians to become accepted in a male dominated profession.  But she was so much more than a female stand up. She was a quick draw with a perfect one liner and never stopped working on new stuff in front of a club crowd.  

Waylon Flowers said that his original routine with Madame was a monologue too blue for Joan to perform. However, Waylon felt It was just right for the unfiltered horny old lady puppet that became Madame. 

I knew Joan Rivers in a professional way. I did a week of $20,000 Pyramid with her, was on her talk show, her radio show and she came to see my solo show "Jay Johnson:The Two and Only" off Broadway at the Atlantic Theatre.  After she saw Jay Johnson:The Two and Only, she had me back on her radio program in New York to promo the show.  She was really wonderful to me. 

I knew Joan Rivers as a staple of the Tonight Show and even the Ed  Sullivan show. She was a headliner when I was fighting acne.  In fact she is responsible for one of my characters.  It is a story I got to tell her personally the week we did Pyramid together.

I was looking for a new character and it seemed all the great ideas had been done.  I really needed to reach for something different.  It was the mid 70's when the love generation had turned drinking age.  People were communing with nature and the popular notion of the time was to converse with your house plants. New research at the time suggested that talking to your house plants and even playing music for them improved their health.  It became a popular notion.

Joan Rivers was on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson one evening. I tried never to miss Johnny. In that perfect conversational style of comedy that Johnny mastered, talking to plants came into the moment. Johnny said to Joan, "Do you ever talk to your house plants?"

Joan said, "Yes, and the other day they said to me... For God's sake shut up Joan."

It is difficult to remember the actual moment of inspiration when you are creating a character, but not this time. This was it, the lightning flash; it was what I was looking for.

House plants that had experienced enough conversation and were speaking up in their own defense. Phil O'Dendren was born at the second Joan Rivers' line settled into my brain. 

It took weeks to make the puppet, and more time to come up with the routine, but Phil and I went on to do most of the major talk shows of the day. Joan Rivers is Phil's muse, and always will be. 

I have been looking for a picture of Joan, Bob and me taken backstage at the Atlantic.  It must be in a box marked Broadway stuff in my office storage, but I can't seem to find it.  Joan made a joke at the time that Bob's face was more flexible than hers.  Her sessions with the plastic surgeon were not above her own acerbic wit. We laughed, but that is too be expected when in the company of a great comedian. 

A lot of people miss you Joan. 

As you were,

Jay

Can Ventriloquism Be Recorded?

Artist Title: Flying Coach to Coast.
©Jaysons Imagination, Inc. 2014

It is a line from my show Jay Johnson:The Two and Only.

(the Perfect Christmas Gift on DVD)

Can Ventriloquism Be Recorded? 

It was a legitimate question asked by a reputable sound man on the set of SOAP.  A very efficient, audio professional, he was aware of acoustic anomalies. He had certainly not ruled out that possibility for why he was in the studio and not in the booth. He knew the physics of why a duck quack will not echo. He was here to solve the audio problem. 

I was clueless. It was the first time I had ever been on a sit com  studio stage,  I thought a quack did echo.

But it was also the first time anybody on a sit com studio stage had ever worked with ventriloquism, which was the one thing I did know about. 

The audio man seriously wanted to know:

Could ventriloquism be a sound anomaly?
Because with all the 1970's state of the art audio equipment ABC owns , there is a problem recording my voice. 

Actually not my voice, my speaking voice was recording fine. It was my ventriloqual voice. 

Specifically Bob's voice. My ventriloquated falsetto is not the an easy sound. It falls higher than my voice so it is difficult to equalize. During my first week, I become aware that the sound of Bob's voice was not recording properly.  The note I got from the sound booth was "We can't understand Bob." Since I am the newest recruit to network television I don't know what they are talking about.  

I tried to sort it out in my mind.  Actors struggle with parts all the time. I must find a better way to deliver my performance.  They can't understand Bob's diction? Is it not loud enough, too high of a register?  I kept trying different timing and different inflections. I hoped this might help the sound guru's hear it more clearly.  Nothing was working. The sound anomaly was still there,

During the first taping, in front of a live audience, the stage manager watched the boom guy move the microphone from me to Bob when Bob spoke a line and back to me when I spoke.  Obviously, Bob's voice was always off mic.  Anomaly discredited as fiction.  Next on to the qualities of a quack. 

I get to act that story in full stage during "The Two and Only". It is even more fun to tell it live. 

Once again the drawing illustrating this blog post has nothing to do with it's content.  That is very unusual in this personalized Internet of everything. Google can actually scan the words in this post in milliseconds.  With the same speed Google can place an advertisement to the side of the page that conforms to some algorithmic interpretation of what this post was about. 

The drawing above is one of my sketches chosen at random. Random is a computer's best friend and it's worst enemy.
I drew the Ghost of "Flying Coach to Coast"  while in flight flying home from the last trip I made. 

As you were,

Jay

Before anyone goes crazy I think the Myth Busters proved that ducks do echo. 

Comments and opinions...

The two posts that I wrote about Robin Williams death got more hits than any of the other 1729 I have composed.  In one I mentioned Robin's self acknowledged bipolar condition. In another I talked bout depression and the disrespect of misunderstanding it is sometimes given.  Other than writing about depression from the informed position of my own struggles, I really wasn't discussing the state of mental health care.

Today I get a comment with links and quotes touting the complete nonsense of psychiatry and psychotropic drugs. I immediately deleted the post for several reasons.  It is a long comment that could have been written by a Scientoloigist  as zealous as Tom Cruise, but it was written anonymously. If the comment or statement was a rebuttal in a court of law it would not be allowed because of here say and relevance. Adding to the irrelevancy of the comment, it was attached to a blog post I wrote about the Emmy's.  Not sure what the intent of the comment was, but irrelevant, rambling, roiling comments are not allowed to remain on TWIAS especially if they are signed anonymously.

And...

I got a lot of comments on Facebook when I published this photo of my dog Boo. Some were quick to point out the "wooden children" in the background.  To be honest I had not taken notice of anything but my cute dog's face. Although no one used the words creepy, the implication was there.  It was as if the picture below was the one posted. The main character is related to Bob, the yellow shirt belongs to John Henry and that is an Alligator from a Punch and Judy cast on his shoulder.

Unless I am making them talk, Boo pays no more attention to these wooden Americans than she does to the chair. Thank you to everyone who expressed concern that I might be frightening a cute dog with the tools of my trade, but no worries she is fine. There are only two things that vex Boo and neither is a vent puppet. Squirrels and lizards are the only things that occupy her attention  beside treats .   And as you know I rescued Boo from Weird Al Yankovich so the only thing that traumatizes her is accordion music, not puppets.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Labor Day weekend.  Since there is not MD Telethon this year, it seems to be a perfect weekend to watch.  "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only."  And for all your difficult people on your Christmas list.... my Friend GFlash reminds us all that there are only 18 Friday's until Christmas.  

As you were,

Jay

Spread the Emmy's Around

Once again the Emmy's were awarded to the television elite last night, and once again I came up empty handed.  That is not to say that I was nominated, nor that I did anything that would qualify this year but the ego of an actor can not be over estimated.  Perhaps the best example of how the Hollywood ego works can be viewed in the Christopher Guest movie "For Your Consideration"

To vet myself with full disclosure, I don't know anyone who has ever delivered a line on a television stage who does not also secretly prepare an Emmy acceptance speech just in case.  I certainly have one ready.  I got to use a version of it when I won the Tony® Award but just in case the Emmy gods are reading this I'm still ready to receive that golden angel for my mantel.

So under the category of "Who really cares outside of Los Angeles county"  I think the Emmy qualifications need to be changed. In the history of the Emmy's you will find that the same show and the same actors win consecutive Emmy's for the same work year after year.  Not that they don't deserve to be honored for continuing to produce good work,  but it is the only major award where that is even possible.  And frankly it is boring. 

SOAP was nominated for Emmy's year after year but always lost to M*A*S*H*. At the time M*A*S*H* was the juggernaut that could not be stopped.  M*A*S*H* was on for 11 years and won 14 Emmy's.  For the years 1971 through 1982 the bet was alway on M*A*S*H* to win and it usually did.  

In contrast "Phantom of the Opera" has been running for 22 years on Broadway.  It opened on January 26, 1988 and that year won 8 Tony's.  Unless it closes and is one day brought back as a revival it will not be eligible for that award again.  And rightly so. The American Theatre Wing has already honored this production with it's highest award.  

The same is true of the Academy Awards Oscar.  A movie, actor, producer, director or any other job on a movie is only eligible for consideration the year it opens.  

The Emmy can be awarded to the same actor or the same show, every year the show continues to run.  To me this is not fair to newcomers who may require more than a year to establish a character or show.  So if you are listening  "Academy of Television Arts and Sciences" here is how I would change the Emmy's.

First of all a show or actor can be nominated every year the show and that character run on television.  Do the work and reap the benefits I say... but here is the difference. If a show/actor wins an Emmy for work during a season... they are not eligible to be nominated for the next two years.  To keep giving out the same Emmy for the same role to the same person is boring.  The next two years that Emmy is available to someone else.  Then after two years if an Emmy award winning show/actor is still doing the same high quality work they can be nominated again.  If that show or person were to win again, the second Emmy would not be for the same work you did last season, but would honor the fact that for the last two years a person continued to do great work.

I have been on this band wagon before and don't know of anyone else who is a champion for the same change. Try to convince Alan Alda how much better it would be if he only had three Emmy's for M*A*S*H* under a new rule instead of the 6 he received under this existing system.  I doubt it will change and the rule will always be "Them that's got seem to get more".

As you were,

Jay

Brought to you by: "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only"  for your Consideration.....

Please download, watch, purchase, rent or just send cash.  

Show Business....

I went to the OnDemand section of my Time Warner Cable Television provider and under Special Events.... there it was:

"Jay Johnson: The Two and Only."  This is the first time I have seen my show on my television.  All I had to do was click on the "purchase" button and Bingo.   

I was very excited until I remembered... I have seen the show. The fact that I can find it is a moot point.  I hope that all you Time Warner subscribers will find it and watch.  

I feel like I am preaching to the choir since most of the readers of this blog have seen the show live and already ordered it.  

This blog is mostly steam of consciousness for me, and since mostly all I can think about is how the show is selling, this narrative gets boring even for me.

I once saw a guy playing saxophone on a New York Subway train.  A few people gave him money.  He said, "The deal is I keep playing until I get enough money to move on."  He looked into the collection hat and said, "This is not enough." and kept playing.  Someone threw in a twenty and he immediately stopped playing and moved on. 

Here is the point of that story.  I have to keep promoting my show until it at least breaks even. Only then can the "Home for Wooden Children" benefit from the bounty.  So there you are... I am a broken record and a loop tape about it until I can afford to move on.

More later from most of these same Internet channels.

As you were,

Jay

Continuing on...

Here I am back into promo mode... Jay Johnson the Two and Only continuously available for your purchase, rent, download or streaming....Pleasure.  As you know this is my least favorite job in show business.  I am a performer. My job is to entertain an audience once they are in the theater or in this case your living room.  How to get people into the theatre or motivated enough to find the show and watch it is still as baffling as ever.

Over the weekend I attended the Portland wedding of my cousin's daughter.  It was a beautiful occasion.  I met Paul, one of the bride's childhood friends, now in his 30's.  He gave me a wonderful compliment about Jay Johnson:The Two and Only. First of all he said that he had watched the PPV several times already.  He told me the show was important to him on many levels, and he is also purchasing the DVD for "social reasons".  He said it would be his "third date test".  If he dated a girl more than two times the third date would be to watch this show together.  He said, "If she doesn't get the show the way I got the show then she is not the girl for me." 
I am not sure any relationship should be judged solely on how a person likes a story about a guy who plays with dolls. That may be too much pressure for any show to live up to. However, I know the principle behind it.

In the comedy club days of the 80's a night at the local Funny Bone, Laff Stop, or Improv was primo date material. You can tell a lot about a person by what they find funny or not.  For more basic reasons a happy date is also a more willing date. I hope it works out for Paul, he was a nice guy and deserves an equally nice companion. 

The two blogs I wrote about Robin Williams last week got more "hits" more "shares" and more "reads" than any other post I have written in 7 years of blogging and by a large margin. Robin's exit still vexes me more than I thought it would.  Being a person who struggles with depression myself it is a wake up call to everyone who shares my ailment. I think we could all be one bad day away from that ultimate solution. Like a member of a mental 12 step program we have to struggle and affirm, "today is not that day." 

I am bothered that many people have said in FB posts they are glad Robin is "finally free." They must be confusing Robin the man with the blue Genie cartoon he voiced in Aladdin.  Suicide is not a "solution" or a vehicle for any sort of freedom. It is not selfish and it is not the cowards way out, it is just the absence of a solution. No matter how dark the room there is a light switch that we must find. When you find that switch the darkness is not just replaced with the light... darkness proves itself to be nothing but the absence of light. Depression is a lot like that.  This black atmosphere does not recoil into a mass in the corner...it vanishes completely.  I have been told that depression is just a place holder for some other unresolved emotion.  Whatever the lesson is we are supposed to learn in this living class room, you can not graduate if you drop the course. One does not beat the storm by giving into the wind, but by fighting that wind to stand tall. 

I write this for my own benefit. While in the dungeon of my own darkness the statements above do not ring true. In fact that Pollyanna attitude merely makes the situation even more desperate. It simplifies a major chemical imbalance in the brain to a line from a Hallmark card. If it were so easy to find that light why wouldn't I gladly turn it on? I am hoping that in one of those moods I will find this blog and know that when I was thinking clearly... I knew it to be so.

As you were,

Jay

Memory in Third Person

There was nothing more intimidating than the corporate offices of ABC Network at Century City in the late 70's.  I was there for final network approval to play Chuck and Bob on a new ABC sitcom called "SOAP". It all boiled down to this final audition. I had passed all the other audition tests but this was the final network test, the only one that mattered.

When I checked in at the ABC receptionist desk a striking woman, beautiful but emotionless, checked off my name and told me to have a seat on the couch.  The lobby entrance to the network office was three stories high.  I looked up at the endless ceiling as I sank to the bottom of a leather couch. The soft cushions engulfed me. I sat eye level with the arm rest. At that moment I could neither feel smaller nor more insignificant.
The producers arrived and were whisk into an office without even acknowledging I was on the couch. Then the director arrived and finally the SOAP Casting agents arrived.  All were escorted to the office. My heart was racing with fear/excitement. It seemed I spent hours alone on that couch until the two casting ladies came and talked to me.

They explained the delay was due to the fact that Pam Dixon, the head of ABC casting was late.   As soon as she arrived we would begin, but no one knew where she was.  They noticed my nerves were on edge so they attempted small talk for awhile but eventually there was only the silence of anticipation.

After a while one of the casting people said, "Let me go see if they know anything yet," and walked to the office where everyone was waiting.  She was gone for awhile and returned with an up date of information.

"Well, they found Pam... she is stuck in the elevator between the 16 and 17th floor of this building.  They are trying to get the elevator fixed. They don't know how long it will take."

"Geez," said the other casting person, "Pam hates confined spaces. She must be going crazy in there.  Will she still feel like doing this reading when they get her out?"

"Don't know.  If they can get her out in the next 30 minutes they will still do the reading."

Again there was silence between the three of us. It must have been no more than 30 minutes but it seemed like days to me.

Finally Pam's secretary came out to us.  She said, "They almost have Pam out of the elevator and she still wants to finish this reading today.  Is that good with everyone?"  We all nodded.

One of the casting people said, "How is she doing?"

The answer, "Don't know but I am sure she is frazzled. She has a phobia for that sort of thing." And with that the secretary walked away.

Both casting directors looked at me and one said,

"Wow, you better be really funny." And with that they went back to the office. What little confidence I had left was gone.

It was finally time for me to "do my thing".  

All my fears were gone when I saw Pam Dixon was laughing and happy as I walked into the room. She had seen my act at a night club in town and knew my work. A tremendous weight lifted off my consciousness. She asked me to do a specific bit she liked, I didn't have to read the script and I got the job.

But wait for it, here is the real story.

Months later I found out why Pam was in such a good mood after the terrifying elevator experience. It seems she was stuck  for an hour and a half inside that elevator with a comedian who kept her laughing the entire time. I wanted to thank that guy, he saved my audition and didn't even know it, but no one was sure who he was.  After years of sharing this story with ABC executives I learned the young comic's name. It now makes total sense how he would have been able to riff on a terrifying real life situation and calm down even the most anxious elevator passenger. He was a comic/actor coming to ABC for an pilot meeting on a show called Mork and Mindy. A year later everyone knew the name Robin Williams.

I never got to thank him personally. It is now, humanly,  too late, but I suspect he is now aware of my gratitude. 

As you were,

Jay 

The Demon of Clowns

There are certain performers who walk into a spot light alone. They are not part of a group, they do not play music. They do not sing and they do not dance. Some use props or costumes, others enter with nothing more than their own quick wit.  Stand up comics, magicians, clowns, ventriloquists, mimes and jugglers face a crowd of strangers alone. The ability or talent to over come this basic human fear of facing a crowd often comes in a bipolar package. 

Robin Williams was such a performer. Driven into the spotlight to escape the demons of the darkness. A San Francisco street mime/comic who became an Academy Award Winning Actor. A man who worked best alone because he was too fast for anyone else to keep up. 

I once watched a sign language interpreter try and sign Robin Williams' stand up routine at a Comedy Store Benefit.  It became a manic improv of concepts and words that would stump the interpreter. They both received a rare mid-set standing ovation from the audience.  Robin, should we have laughed harder, clapped louder, stood up quicker, done more as an audience to make you think one second longer about the joy you can bring before ending your life?

Only a few seconds after I heard the news of Robin Williams death my phone rang. It was my best friend. He too is a solo performer. I was actually attempting to dial his number at that very moment. The news had reached us at the same moment.  

My friend began his career as a San Francisco street performer and had known Robin since those days.  I did not know Robin well but we both had the same reactive feelings. A heavy loss that seemed to out weigh the amount of time either of us had spent in his company. But, he was our our age, our generation,  a fellow solo performer. We were all bond together in that loneliness of the spotlight; and suddenly he is not only dead but dead by his own hand.  There is a demon that stalks the clown. 

We had a moment of recollection on the last time we saw Robin and the best story we had about him. We came around to this conclusion.  Of the famous solo performers we could think of from our generation,  Robin was the most likely to die by his own hand.  We both assumed it would be by overdose. He was a candle burning at both ends, but he made a lovely light. He fought the bipolar demon for a long time but finally lost Monday, August 11, 2014.

The psychiatrist says to the man on his couch. "You are very lonely and depressed. I suggest you go to the comedy club here in town tonight and laugh. There is a comic performing there that will make you forget all your troubles."

The man on the couch says,  "I am that comic."

As it was before, 

Jay

  

The Opening Act

Today is August 9th the anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki. It is also the day our PPV premiers. I certainly hope that is the only connection to "bomb" and  Jay Johnson:The Two and Only.

There will be no opening night party tonight like is the tradition in New York.  However, Sandi and I plan to celebrate by watching our friend  Richard Kauffman  conduct the Pacific Symphony at the Verizon Theater in Irvine. Richard will conduct the score to Disney's Fantasia played live in sync with the film. Richard is a master at this amazing feat. We have been honored to watch him do the same magic with the films, Wizard of Oz and Chaplin's City Lights. Fantasia is one of my all time favorite films and I can't wait to watch it LIVE.

I have already had messages from friends who watched Jay Johnson: The Two and Only on PPV early this morning.  They are the electronic equivalent of "first nighters" I suppose.  There is an odd situation that I would not have ever thought about in this  day of "special delivery television". 

It seems that the channel where my show will be shown, in some markets, is the "Adult Entertainment" channel.  It means that Jay Johnson:The Two and Only is listed along with titles like..."Hot Wet Mama",  "Dude Where's my Dildo?" and "Bleeping Miss Buffy." With a ventriloquist show along side such company  it gives the title "Deep Throat" a new meaning.  I certainly hope that some of my techno challenged friends do not accidentally pay for the wrong title.  I might not ever be able to explain that to my Texas Southern Baptists relatives. I am waiting for someone who thinks they saw my show to tell me how good I look in Tighty whities. 

In my career I never had to open for strippers.  I made my way into the ultra family entertainment of Theme parks when I was too young to work the strip joints. I guess Karma has come back to straighten out that "missed career opportunity" dressed in black fish nets.  Must be my turn to become the comedia intruptus on PPV. 

There are some things that a "producer/writer/performer" like myself has no control over.  This ventrilo-hard core mash up is one of them. It's funny. It has been difficult for people to find my show on the television schedule, I suspect there will be a certain number of fans who will  now find my show by total accident.  My friend and fabulous writer Evan Davis  once wrote: "I found Amazon.com by accident.... I was searching for some really tall women on line."  I have the feeling the show may find a whole new market.

So brave the "On Slut" and look for Jay Johnson: The Two and Only on your local pay for porno channel and watch.  Or if you are the least bit offended by the company a Tony®Award winning show shares on cable television... download direct from iNDEMAND to your computer or buy the DVD.

Remember  only you can save a wooden child from continuing this less than wholesome television company.

Enjoy my show... some how...

As you were,

Jay

Promo Break

Jay Johnson:The Two and Only has become available to purchase or watch starting this Saturday. I feel like it is once again opening week at the Helen Hayes.  There is not much to be done now but try to get people into the theatre.  In this case the theatre is in your living room, but you still have to get it and watch it.

Art and Harry O'Shea
"Of more the ordinary significance" in my life

In New York there is never a time when you are not promoting your show.  Especially if it is not one of the ones that get the "instant buzz" that comes with a huge investment and big opening splash.  Doing the show was a dream, promoting it was work.  I'm still not sure how anyone gets anybody else to take a chance on a show.  I always felt incapable of getting the audience into the theatre, but once they got there, they usually came back a brought friends.

I have never been able to explain my show very well.  Yes it is about ventriloquism, yes it is about my connection to the art form of ventriloquism, but it is really a Valentine to my mentor and figure maker Art Sieving. We crossed paths almost accidentally, became friends and the connection took on a rather supernatural patina.  There are still times when I am doing the show that I feel the presence of Art Sieving so completely that I know he is performing it along with me.

Once at the Colony Theatre in Burbank we were doing a tech rehearsal.  These are slow and laborious rehearsal sessions that seem to take forever. I call it a stagger through because you slowly do the show step by step, backing up and doing things again for lighting and sound cues.  I have gotten to where the task is almost mechanical.

The set involves a lot of trunks that dress the stage. Some trunks contain the puppet performers, others act as chairs, small stages and step stools for the "business" of the show.  Even in the traveling set there are two dozen trunks.

It was late at night when we were "staggering" through the show and we were to a part where I recreate my first meeting with Art Sieving at his house in Springfield, Ill.  The blocking at that particular moment had me saying, "As I walked into his house that day..." and I move toward a grouping of trunks stage right.  John Ivy (my fabulous Stage Manager)  had me do that phrase and start that walk more than a few times to rehearse the timing of a lighting cue he was working on. One last time I said, "As I walked into his house" and John stopped me once again. Out of frustration I made a joke and said "And I wish I was there with Art now". At that very moment one of the latches on a closed trunk in the very area I was heading toward sprang open with a distinctive metallic  flutter sound. It was loud enough to be heard in the booth where John was working.  It stopped that tech rehearsal cold.

I do believe in ghosts, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was Art interacting with me from whatever dimension he is currently. It was just to let me know that although it was not the most glamorous part of mounting a show it is extremely necessary, and to let me know that I didn't have to go very far to "be there now with Art".

So here we are once again. I am trying to lure an audience into watching that show on DVD or PPV or whatever form it is now. I love telling this story. I love the reaction that people have to this story. I would love for millions of people to see it just to understand how one Master can effect the entire life and career of a willing apprentice. Trying to let people know that it is available now, in their living room at a price that is less than a 10th of the price of a Broadway ticket seems to be a job I am not qualified for, I would much rather be telling the story live.

I hope you will watch. I think you will be surprised at what the show really is about.  You will laugh, you might tear up, and you will probably learn something about Art. Not just Art the man, but Art the process.

Here are some links to find it.

PerOrder the DVD

PPV and download to rent or own

As you were,

Jay

Beta App for Free

This is a beta app that will take you to all the various ways that Jay Johnson:The Two and Only! can be purchased, rented or viewed. Thank you to all who have tested it out.

LINK TO THE APP 
As you were.
Jay

Professional Power Point Presentation

Okay I admit it. I actually purchased clicks on Facebook.  I don't even know what that means but I am willing to invest in every possible path to get the word out about Jay Johnson: The Two and Only!  The show is available to find (with effort).  Listing of PPV seems to be different for every local cable service. On Line it is scheduled for August 9th. Some people have been able to preorder and reserve PPV in advance.  Leave me comments on the experience you had if you tried to order Jay Johnson: The Two and Only!  or even find it. 

ALSO, Amazon.com has our DVD listed as Johnson, Jay - The Two & Only!  
If you search Amazon.com under the correct name Jay Johnson: The Two and Only! The first thing that you will see is an ad offering two different playbills from my New York show for sale. One  from Off Broadway at the Atlantic Theatre and the other from the Helen Hayes (in color). 

To find the DVD of  Jay Johnson: The Two and Only you have to scroll past several other items until you see me and Bob face to face on a black drop box.  There you can sign up to have emails on when it is available.  It says December 16th, and I guess they will let you know if it is sooner. 

The London West End
Arts Theatre London

So at this point I have to say what ever the French word is for Buyer Beware. 

"The Home for Wooden Children" does not participate in any revenue EXCEPT from the sale of the DVD or PPV of JJ:TTAO is a BFD.OK? So, the only thing the HWC will guarantee is the quality of the Official Filmed Version of Jay Johnson: The Two and Only! 

Tip to collectors: The Playbill from the Atlantic Theatre is more rare and it is signed.

Oh and the lesson that I learned today? You can not place an ad on Facebook that is less than 80% face. Who knew? 
As you were,
Jay

Normal or Change?

Brought to you by "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only" on pay-per-view starting 

Saturday August 9th.

DVD  available December 16th. 

A large portion of the revenue from this show goes to "The Home for Wooden Children"  Help support wooden children everywhere by purchasing and enjoying this show. 

For the last couple of days I have been contemplating the idea of Normal.  I got  a new computer and worked all weekend to restore the back ups and files from the old one to the new one. No matter how good your backup or the cloud or Time Machine there are still plenty of loose ends to match up. So after 90 plus hours of getting things back the way they were, this morning I turned on a computer that looks exactly like my old one, it was back to Normal.

The fact is nothing is really the same. Normal only exists in my perception, everything else has changed. It is my comfort level that has become normalized. Normal is actually getting comfortable with change.

Change is the nature of the Universe.

Change is the fundamental process of the Universe. There is nothing in a physical world that is not in a continual state of change. Some of the changes are slow enough that we don't see them, we perceive it as normal.  Other things change so quickly that we get over the change just as fast and believe things are back to normal. 

The cells in my body reproduce themselves every 21 days.  In reality I am not the same physical unit from month to month. Although I think I look "normal" I can see some photographs from my younger days and realize I am not the same looking person. So what is normal? Just the comfort of familiarity. 

Mackintosh computers ushered in the era of making computers normal.  When the window based operating system of the 1984 Mac was introduced only a few realized that the computer was now imitating normality while completely changing everything.  

One of the members of the Xerox group that developed the icon based operating system said that the genius of the system was the trash can. Before this, to delete a file on a computer you had to execute a line of code that was complicated and if any single character in the line of code was wrong it would not execute the delete. The idea that now one could virtually drag a file into the icon of a trash can to execute the command. was pure genius according to that engineer. It is normal to throw something you don't want into a trash can, that is normal.  It makes us comfortable. After 30 odd years of that conditioning the virtual act of doing this on every computer has become normal.  

Slowly we accept change as "normal" after we have had time to morn the passing of the same. The seniors who did not participate in the computer revolution find the entire process to be intimidating. Clicking, dragging, copying and rebooting are just part of the "modern normal" for todays generation, but an older generation had not grown up with the digital metaphor. They find the process confusing and intimidating.  

To embrace change is the only way to really stay alive and vital.  Old people are sometimes described as being "set in their ways".  It only means that they want to do the same things they have always done in the same way in the same time, this is their normal.  But the world does not stay the same and soon their normal gets harder and harder to accomplish.  It makes them more and more isolated which means they want to hang on to the way it always was which limits their opportunities, isolating them even more.  

If one embraces change there will never be a time of stagnation. If one embraces change there will be more opportunity for growth. But mostly if one comes to see change as the normal, they will be in harmony with the entire universe. The earth is spinning constantly as it goes around the sun which is part of a galaxy that is expanding and moving very quickly to the next place.  We are not the same cellular animals that we were 21 days before. How can we cling to our normal in direct conflict with the nature of everything? 

The answer for me is holding tightly to the idea of Now. If one can come to the idea that being in the now is Normal, the past is gone and the future will be some now to come. With the idea that now is my normal, and actually is the only reality I can comprehend then I am comfortable.  And after all the idea of normal is just the idea of being comfortable.

As you were,

Jay

iBondage

I am a Mac guy. Always have been. The iMac that I have had for 7 years and two hard drives finally decided to retire.  The thrill of upgrading  to a new computer is the yen to the yang of reintalling all the files.  With Mac's past the process of installing a new system, and re-installing all the old apps and files was frustrating, very time consuming and humbling. There is a standing rule at the Johnson house to leave the area when I am "installing" a new computer.  My time honored process is to curse and scream at a blank screen, followed by throwing non breakable objects and walking away to calm down.  That process would be repeated several times until the job was finished. But that was the old days when the "fast Mac was 512k".

Today there is a wonderful thing called the Time Machine. Having to reinstall two hard drives on the old machine I thought my cursing, screaming, throwing, days were past.  Time Machine operations are simply a matter of signing on to my network and clicking the reinstall back up.  24 hours later you have your stuff back. That is certainly the way the day started yesterday.

At the point when the dialogue screen said that the estimated time was 93 hours to completion I realized there would be no work on that computer for a couple of days. Having found a herd of dust bunnies  behind the old Mac it was cleaning time. That prompted me to clean and dust everything in the office.

I took everything from the counter and desk top and put it on  the floor.  I sorted it and threw out anything that I could not recognize as important. I took breaks but was at it for about six hours. It was very satisfying when the desk and counter to the office was neat and clean.  In fact it was now so well organized the tangle of electrical cords under the desk looked exceptionally un tidy.  So I decided to "stow up the lines" as they say on a sail boat. 

It was going well, looking good, but there was a cord so tangled around the rest that the only way to free it was to unplug it. I made sure it was not the computer, that would have been a stupid mistake. In fact this was an outlet on the other side of the room from the new computer.  I was particulary proud of the way the cord looked once I had finished it.  At this point my Son walked into the office, he had been doing some work on line and he said, "Did the network go down?" Oops.

I had unplugged the wireless router. The router went down, the network went down and of course the 6 hours of Time Machine back up went down.  

With the help of a very nice lady named Penny at Apple Support we had to erase the drive and reinstall the system which took three hours. 

So I started over this morning.  

Jay Johnson:The Two and Only on pay-per-view demand August 9th.  DVD release on December 16th.  By that time I might have a computer I can use again.

As you were,

Jay

Just Like the Wizard of Oz

All of my attention is on August 9th when "Jay Johnson:The Two and Only" opens OnDemand pay-per-view.  It is a journey full of continuing wonder.  

There are so many people and so many things that have to come together to make a show like "The Two and Only" happen. It's about the journey more than the destination and not unlike Dorothy's adventures to OZ. Here is how the the characters line up in my story. 

Murphy Cross and Paul Kreppel (The Tornado and the Ruby Slippers) more like guiding forces than mere human characters. Caught in their vortex I am whisk from the safety of Kansas and dropped in the middle of Times Square munchkin land. They are the motivating force (the Tornado) and the magic protection (Ruby slippers).  Their protection fostered a beautiful friendship as well as a working relationship that means more to me than any American Theater Wing trophy. You know how much you "forces of nature" mean to me, Paul and Murphy.  

Roger Gindi  (Glenda the good Witch) was the first "New York Theatrical Producer" to show us the yellow brick road to Oz. He got the team of investors and designers (Munchkins all) to accompany us as far as they could along the yellow brick road to the Atlantic Theatre and the Helen Hayes. Thank you, Roger, for being the first to believe. 

Broadway was like being in Munchkinland.  There were celebrations and awards from the locals but too soon it was time to get on the road.  Alone and wondering which way to go... I meet:

John Ivy (The Scarecrow). He has no idea how smart he is.  He can do anything including spinning gold from the straw which makes up his very being. Together we continued down the road.  John you are a blessing and an incredibly talented friend.  

In a dark part of the journey we meet Bryan Simon and Marge Engesser (collectively the Tin Man). They have a constitution of steel, a chest full of love and an axe to cut through the over growth of film production. Marge and Bryan, if you had not lovingly pushed and insisted on continuing the journey, we would still be wondering how  to get "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only" to those who have not seen it.  Onward and upward, my friends.

Witches and evil apple trees try to keep us from moving forward. We are stopped from continuing, trying to pick up the apples that were thrown at us.  There are always last minute obstacles that seem to be make the path impossible to continue.  Just like Dorothy I was in need of one last bit of help to make it to Emerald City.

Cowardly Lion to the rescue. (Collectively they are Tom Ladshaw and Jeff Dunham). Just like the lion they are not aware of how courageous and important their contribution is in getting me to OZ. They are also the guys behind the curtain working in secret, because they want it that way. Tom, Jeff to both of you I say, Thank you. You are the Kings of the Forrest.

We arrive in Oz on August 9th.  I am hoping the citizens of Emerald city (YOU - the ones reading this) will "demand" to see the show and I will be able to make it back home. (read pay my mortgage)

August 9th for a couple of months on Demand, and December 16 for the DVD. 

Thank you to everyone who has taken me by the hand to walk the Yellow Bricks. I am truly blessed.

As you were,

Jay