Brothers Are Still Brothers

Here's one reason why I just love Queen Elizabeth II:

Queen quotes Groucho as she thanks nation for its support
By Alan Hamilton
The Sunday Times

IF GROUCHO MARX declined to join any club that would have him as a member, would he have wanted to live in a country whose otherwise dignified head of state quoted his jokes?

The Queen was in playful mood yesterday as she addressed a grand lunch given by the Lord Mayor of London to celebrate her 80th birthday, and the 85th of her husband, attended by the Prime Minister, the Archbishop of Canterbury and Sir Cliff Richard among 350 distinguished guests.

Appreciative laughter filled the gold and white Egyptian Hall in the Mansion House, the Lord Mayor’s official residence, when, in a reference to her own advancing years, she repeated one of the late screen comedian’s aphorisms: "Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough."

A wonderful and spirited quote from the Queen of England. You can always find a Marx Brothers quote for any occasion. My favorite Groucho quote currently is, "A man is only as old as the woman he feels." Naw ... you can just guess how old I am.

The Marx Brothers are still in the news, nearly thirty years since Groucho's death. I also read a recent article about Bob Martin, who co-wrote the book and is featured in the Broadway hit The Drowsy Chaperone. When asked about his favorite musicals, he gave this reply:

"Well, because I grew up in Canada, far away from Broadway, most of my knowledge came from the movies. I especially liked the Marx Brothers in Animal Crackers and Coconuts, which started out as Broadway musicals. Both of those were big inspirations for The Drowsy Chaperone, where not every performer is supposed to be the greatest. You look at some of the people in the Marx Brothers movies and you say, "Wow, for her to get a part, Chico just had to be sleeping with her."

Every so often people note the similarity between the Marx Brothers and the Talented Talent Brothers. Well, there are some similarities but they're not all done consciously. Not that I would put us anywhere in a league with the sheer comic brillance of the Marx Brothers, but both groups feature brothers. Mel keeps pointing out the what little plot there is in Weasel Erotica could have just as well been in A Day at the Races. My alter-ego Professor Wagstaff is a nod to Groucho (his character in Horsefeathers had the same name) and the character Ms. Rittenrotten is an obvious nod to Margaret Dumont (Mrs. Rittenhouse in Animal Crackers). Hey, if you're gonna steal, steal from the best.

So folks tend to ask, which one of you is Groucho? Which Harpo? Which Chico? Well, I'm not sure. I grew up a Groucho fanatic, so in performance I'm very much the Groucho. Tony, by default, functions as our Zeppo (poor, poor Tony) but gets alot more action that ol' Zep ever did. Mo frequently has played characters that are quite similar (minus the bad Italian accent) to what Chico played in the later movies. I guess those silly weasels are our Harpo. Hey, we even have a sexy seductress who puts Thelma Todd to shame.

Off-stage we all try to be Chico (Marx Brothers fans get it) but wind up all-to-often just playing W.C. Fields.

Air Conditioner or Weapon of Germ Warfare?

After a sunny and warm Sunday this week I went out for dinner to cap off a nice relaxing day. We're sitting in the restaurant eating garlic bread and I start to notice that I’m getting a little chilly. Now, it having been such a lovely day, all I’m wearing are jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly notice that they have sat us directly in the air conditioner’s line-of-fire. It’s just blowing right on us.

"Ah well," I think to myself. It’s been warm all day and it’s actually kind of nice not to be sweating for a change. The main course arrives and I’m now officially delving into the Uncomfortable Zone. I joke that I’m probably going to catch a cold.

Then, Monday morning, I wake up congested and feeling like crap. I was a touch feverish and spent the first several minutes of the morning either blowing my nose or coughing up some of the excess that had traveled down my throat over night. (Hey, this blog can’t always be pleasant, you have to expect this kind of thing every once in a while). A hot shower loosens things up enough to get me feeling a little better and then I’m off to work.

I hate being sick at work.

I try calling my doctor to see if I can get a prescription called in. I know what’s happened to me. I caught a cold and then an upper respiratory infection while I slept. Happens to me a couple of times a year. I recognize the symptoms. I can’t get through to the doctor’s office and wind up leaving a message with his service. Later that afternoon I finally get the call back and I ask for them to call in my prescription.

See, I have a game plan. They call in my prescription, I leave work a few hours early to head back to Jersey to pick it up, take my meds, take a little nap and then head back to the city for rehearsal. This will work.

An hour later I call the pharmacy to check if my prescription is ready. Oops, they hadn’t called it in yet. So it’s back to trying to get through to the doctor’s office. This time they finally pick up, apologize and tell me they’re going to call it in right away. I wait another half-hour and call the pharmacy. It won’t be ready for another hour or so. Great! Now it’s late in the afternoon and there’s no way I can get to Jersey, pick it up and be back in NYC in time for rehearsal. Looks like I’ll have to make it through the day without any medicine.

I put in a full day at work and although I feel worse than I did when I arrived, I’m thinking I’m in pretty good shape. Mel and I meet up a little early to walk through the Times Square Food Fest (or whatever the hell it was) and eat all sorts of foods that don’t go together. Pasta, barbequed ribs, chorizo, baklava, brick oven pizza and a glass of sangria. Then off to rehearsal.

I hate being sick at rehearsal.

So now it hits. In the little rehearsal black box (which felt comfortable when we first arrived) I start sweating like a mad-man and begin to lose my voice. I think we got some good work done, but not sure any of it was mine. An actress falls through a chair she was standing on ... that worked. We’ll never be able to recreate it, but it worked.

Finally home and quickly to bed. Wake up this morning feeling ten times worse. So I call out, burn a sick day and head out to get my prescriptions. Do a little work from home (see, even when I take a sick day I do work) and then go back to bed. "May cause drowsiness" was a serious understatement. I slept for six solid hours.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Air conditioning is great ... just stand to one side.

Mailing List

Hey, just a note to everybody (all four of you who actually read this blog) to make sure you are on the Baby Hippopotamus mailing list. Lots of interesting stuff being sent out regarding Weasel Erotica, including some special discount and merchandise opportunities. So, if you haven’t signed up already, send an email to kingtalent@babyhippopotamus.com and I’ll get you included.

Urgent, Urgent, Emergency

Make it fast, make it urgent
Do it quick, do it urgent
Gotta rush, make it urgent
Want it quick
Urgent, urgent, emergency
-- from "Urgent" by Foreigner

I'm torn. I can't quite tell if we, as a society, are just getting lazier or if I just seem to be running into people who don't seem to ever be in a hurry. See, I'm a busy guy. I work hard. I play hard. I do everything at 100 mph. I'm almost always in a rush. I have deadlines to meet. Places to be. Things to do. And everywhere I turn, there are people just moping along and getting in my freaking way.

The office building I work in is a prime example. These people are supposed to be working, right? Then why is it that it takes them half-an-hour to go grab a drink? Why are people waiting ten minutes for an elevator that's going to take them to the 2nd floor when there's a stairwell not five feet from where they are standing? Am I the only one in the building that has work to do? Success only comes after work and there are only so many hours in a day ... I have responsibilities and goals and dreams ... and if I'm to meet them, then I gotta get a move on. I can't stand watching people who genuinely don't care if they miss a deadline, disappoint a client or friend and would much rather just drag their feet from place to place.

Or just take a walk down 42nd Street this time of year. Hundreds upon hundreds of people, just lazily walking to and fro. Aimless people doing nothing with their lives but blocking my way. Freakin' move, already!

Hey, I'm all about rest and relaxation. Why just this weekend I was leisurely dancing in the rain to zydeco music, eating crawfish and drinking Budweiser. Enjoyable, relaxing hours spent at a slow pace because for once I didn't have anywhere else to be, or anywhere else I'd rather be. But that's the exception to the rule. By all means, stop and smell the roses people ... just step to one side so the rest of us can get on with our lives.

Viva Las Vegas!

It looked like it was going to be hit-or-miss for a while there, but I was finally able to return home to Vegas for a few short days. Man, how much the Strip has changed since I was there last. I wasn't in Vegas for five minutes before I ran into my first Elvis. He was off-duty, but the sunglasses and sideburns gave him away. Had a little chat with him and we sang "A Little Less Conversation" in front of Denny's to the surprise of a few dozen tourists. King and The King giving an impromptu performance on the Vegas Strip ... a truly bizarre and magical experience.

I can't express to you how nice it was to be back in the desert heat, actually get a little color on my lily white self (maybe somebody will stop calling me "Casper"), see a few shows, perform a couple of shows, spend a little time in the casino and generally just enjoy myself. I've forgotten how much I miss showgirls. Showgirls are one of the things that make the world go 'round. Give thanks for showgirls.

Let me tell you one major difference between New York audiences and Vegas audiences ... there's a whole different level of receptiveness in Sin City. Maybe it's because most everybody in on vacation. Maybe it's because the drunk-to-sober ratio is quite a bit higher. Maybe it's just the warm weather. But audiences laugh harder in Vegas. I think the tackiness of the whole city infects people's minds and makes them more willing to laugh at the worst jokes.

I actually had the courage (re: stupidity?) to ride the rides at New York New York and the Stratosphere. Those who know me know that I'm less than enamored of rollercoasters. And when we went racing up the needle at the top of the Stratosphere some 90-plus stories above the ground pulling three Gs of force I was sure that I would never strap myself into another ride. But it was midnight, the city looked like little specs of light and I wasn't all that nauseous ... liquid courage had gotten me through another ordeal. Thank goodness for my old friends Jack and Coke.

Weasel Update

Well, rehearsals have just begun on Weasel Erotica and I already have two observations. One, Mel did one heck of a job casting this show. I mean she was on the money. She found a nice group that blends well with Tony, Mo and I and brings some unique energy to the show. Yeah, big talk two rehearsals in, but it bodes well for the future. Two, this script of mine might actually work. Everybody had doubts here and there, but it's starting to become obvious that we have a nice little shell to hang Talent Bros insanity on.

The Vegas trip really re-energized me and I'm excited to bring that energy to Weasel Erotica. I'm gonna need it 'cause there's a lot of work to do. Next step is to become a publicity machine ... so I'll start with this: "Come See Weasel Erotica ... it's very, very funny." Okay, so I need a better sales pitch. I'll work on it.