Mid-Rehearsal Love Fest

Two weeks from now Weasel Erotica will have opened, the stress of getting a show up will have subsided and I'll be drinking a glass of champagne toasting the success and/or failure of another opening night. I will have stared down the paralyzing power of stage fright once again and come out successful (one of these days I won't be so lucky) and sweaty. I will put my arms around sister Melissa Jo and tell her we did it again ... just what "it" is may still remain a mystery. I will let out a giant sigh of relief.

But that's two weeks away. What happens between now and then frightens the hell out of me. There is just so much still to be done. A million little details that have to be addressed. A million little things that can (and some will) go wrong. Hell week is upon us, and it's two weeks long!

So, before my nerves become completely frayed, now is the time to compliment my castmates, my family and express the sheer pride I have in working with these folks and watching them bring this silly little vision to life:

I have to start with my brother Matt 'Mo' Talent (Mo Talent because he has mo' talent that you!) who is always a joy and a pleasure to work with. He works harder than just about any other actor/comedian I know and never lets out a word of discouragement. He's the guy always there with a pat on the back ... while I'm the guy who always needs the pat on the back. Matt has a simple and pure charm that makes him such a joy to watch on stage. A kinetic energy with a devious glint in his eye. Whenever I work with him I warn the rest of the cast that he's the one who's likely to run away with the show ... and he most frequently does. I expect the same to hold true on opening night.

Not a brother by blood, but a brother by spirit is Tony King. This show is something of a challenge for Tony because he's playing a guy who borders on being milquetoast, something that Tony certainly is not. Tony is a proud and handsome Southerner (just like his big brother by another mother) who exudes charm on stage. For us he serves as a perfect straight man, but a straight man that the audience wants to root for. In the spirit of Noel Coward, he's the poor sap stuck in the middle of extraordinary circumstances. It takes a special talent and spirit to pull that off ... and Tony is loaded with talent and spirit.

Next on the love fest list is my favorite "Opera Girl." Rebecca Sponseller is my hero. She has no shame (which is a requirement in this show and something I readily identify with) and an innate ability to steal a scene. She is my Margaret Dumont ... and those who know me well know that I can hand out no higher compliment.

Filling out the role that I wrote with Maureen O'Sullivan in mind is Amy Kersten, a remarkable comedic actress who always finds the time to offend me in some shape, way, form or fashion. She takes after my baby sister. I hadn't realized until recently how much this show hinges on her role and I can't express how lucky we were to find Amy. She's the kind of talent that you admire (but secretly feel jealous about) and the kind of girl that you could have a crush on if she wasn't such a ball-buster. But the Talent Brothers have long been known to have a healthy respect for the ball-buster.

I didn't know Jeremy Sykes from Adam, but I trusted Mel when she told me, "Hey, I know this guy that would be perfect for our villain." And that he is. A cross between Snidely Whiplash and Harvey Korman. This show needs that element of 1930's melodrama to it and Jeremy has that in spades. Talented guy ... check out one of his paintings right here ... just hope he doesn't walk out on us when he sees the costume we have planned for him.

How do you cast a sexy seductress but not wind up with a diva bitch on wheels? That was one of our concerns going into auditions for this show. We found the answer and her name is Anne McDaniels. A buddy of mine saw a picture of this beauty and former NFL cheerleader and said, "I bet she's hard to work with." What a misconception. Why do other actors want to hate the beautiful? There are very few more professional, down-to-earth, pleasant actresses out there. She is a delight and certainly lifts the show's sexy quotient to new heights.

Zoo Girls play a special role in my heart where this play is concerned. Okay, outside of this play none of us would have any idea what a reference to a Zoo Girl is. How special? Those closest to me would recognize how special by the characters' names ... Ray-Ray and Kitty. Those weren't just random names chosen out of a hat, were they? Ray-Ray is Jennifer Sandella ... a bundle of smart and sexy quirkiness. She brings a special rhythm and charm to the show that is irreplaceable. Her willingness to dive in, try anything and never let that fear of looking silly get in the way makes her one of us ... after all, that's the Talent Brother credo.

What is it about little blonde girls from Oklahoma that I enjoy so much? (Get your mind out of the gutter ... there's only room enough for mine!) Ah, the girls from Sooner country are a special breed. Our Okie plays Kitty and her name is Kimi Winkler. She's a talented former college cheerleader (how did we wind up with two cheerleaders in our show?) that is a lovely and lively breeze (strike that, whirlwind) of fresh air! An enticing wave of energy that rolls over all of us and, I am sure, will role over the audience.

Finally, I can't hand out any kudos without mentioning my sister Mel. The reason this show will succeed is Melissa Jo Talent ... point blank. Granted I had to beg and plead and implore her to even consider directing this thing, but all that begging is paying off handsomely ... just as I knew it would. I don't know that there are people who I love, admire and respect as much as Mel. I think the majority of the cast feels the same. So, while I can praise the rest of my castmates, my highest praise is reserved for my little sister. Superb ... she is just superb. I am proud to have her as my director, my family, my comrade and my friend.

So, there's my little love-fest for the actors in the show. For those of you actually reading my blog, remember this praise. Because I imagine I'm going to become an unbearable a$$hole over the next two weeks. Let Hell Week begin!

King's Code of Ethics

I have already received a little response to my previous post and several folks have asked me to clarify what my own personal code of ethics is. Okay, here goes. This may not be all-encompassing, but it's a shot:

1) Never hold a prejudice against another based on race, color, creed, religion, national origin or sexual orientation. Always hold a prejudice against the selfish, lazy, closed-minded and blatantly stupid.

2) There is no such thing as a failure who keeps trying. Success deserves reward. Failure deserves encouragement.

3) Wear your heart on your sleeve. Never be protected. Hurt equals growth. Fear stunts it. The protected are never truly happy.

4) If you have something negative to say, so long as it doesn't seriously hurt or offend another, say it. Maybe we're itching for a fight and we'll feel better afterwards.

5) So long as you do not break the law nor hurt another, do anything and everything that comes to mind. If you want to stand on your head in a crowded bar, then by all means, do so. If you want to eat a shoe for dinner, cook it up!

6) You are superior to no one. No one is superior to you.

7) When in a crowded room, remember that everybody in that room can do something you only wish you could do.

8) Always reinforce positive emotions. If you love somebody, tell them. Hug them. Kiss them. Never reinforce negative emotions ... they will soon subside. Relish the success, the skills, the abilities of others.

9) Sacrifice for your fellow man. Rejoice in their beauty. Be grateful for all gifts, big and small.

10) Drink at least one caffeinated beverage a day.

11) Never forget that love and loyalty go hand in hand.

12) No matter what you do, no matter the limitations life has put on you, always strive for excellence.

Yup ... I'm a Dog!

I'm loyal to a fault. Well, that may not be exactly true, but I'm as loyal as a dog. I mention that from time to time ... that I'm just like a dog. Ironically, I was born in the year of the dog and although I have never gone in for any of that mumbo-jumbo, most things that I have read regarding Chinese astrology and the year of the dog are pretty spot on. Here's a description of a Dog from good-old Astrology.com:

In the West, the Dog is man's best friend, but in Chinese Astrology this Sign is a little more unpredictable than that. Dogs are loyal, faithful and honest and always stick to their firm codes of ethics. However, this Sign has trouble trusting others. It's generally quite trustworthy itself -- except for the occasional "little white lies" the Dog tells in order to make things go more smoothly. The Dog makes a wonderful, discreet and loyal friend (despite any white lies) and is an excellent listener. This Sign tends to root for the underdog and its keen sense of right and wrong makes it duty-bound to the core. The Dog's mantra seems to be, Live right, look out for the little people and fight injustice whenever possible.

Dogs can also be rather dogmatic, too. They don't go in for light social banter; instead, they go straight for home, expostulating on the topics that are most important to them. At these times the Dog's narrow-minded or stubborn side can become apparent; this Sign has trouble staying light and calm when an important issue is at stake. This Sign can also be very temperamental; mood swings characterize its emotional life and often the Dog needs to run off to be alone in order to recuperate. Part of the problem is the result of this Sign's load of irrational fears that turn into niggling anxieties that turn into hurt feelings and occasional grouchiness. This sensitive Sign needs to warm up to others over time and gradually learn to trust them. Without that trust as a foundation, Dogs can be judgmental and coarse.

The Dog's discerning nature does make it an excellent business person, one who can turn that picky, guarded nature into a keen sense of the truth of another's motives. Where love is concerned, Dogs often have a tough time finding the right match. They can be so anxious and overwrought in the romance dance that they'll stress their partner to the max! In any forum, this Sign is happiest when able to be quite physically active; at home or at work, the Dog will always be constructing something new or cleaning something up in order to make things better. Dogs need to work on controlling their irrational worries and would also be well-served to relax their mile-high standards, which can sometimes wind up alienating the ones they love.

It may not be completely spot on, but it's pretty darn close. The topic of loyalty and my own personal code of ethics is what brings this topic up. My code of ethics? Stand by my side (even just a little) and I'll die for you, turn away from me for even a moment and you're dead to me. You gotta pet this dog every once in a while if you want to keep him on the porch!

I am loyal and I expect others (friends and loved ones) to be loyal to me. Unfortunately I am all-too-frequently disappointed in this regard. Once someone shows a sign of disloyalty to me, I become the rabid dog. I do have mood swings and they are almost always brought on by a loved one turning (even unintentionally) on me. I am often filled with anxieties ... as I write this I'm an emotional wreck ... that simply need to be pacified. If you love me, remind me of that on occasion. If you want to survive a relationship with me then at least make sure I make you're list of Top Ten Favorite Things.

I don't like, nor do I appreciate, being the object of your affection only when it is convenient. If my loyalty to you causes me to go out of my way to demonstrate it, then I expect the same in return. I don't do acquaintances.

What Makes You Happy?

Everybody has periods of unhappiness, right? Sometimes I find myself in the middle of one of those periods and I ask myself, "what makes you happy?" Seems like it should be an easy question to answer, but it’s not. If it was, we wouldn't have a growing industry devoted to the prescription of medications for depression. So, I turned to a group of experts. The following is from the University of Arkansas Cooperative Extension Service with my comments in parenthesis:

"Would winning the lottery make you happy? (Hell, yeah!) Not likely. (Liar!) According to David G. Myers, a happiness researcher, money does not buy happiness. (Hey, Mr. Myers, you obviously have never met me!) Rich people are no more happy than people with average incomes. In addition, older people are neither less nor more happy than young people. And men have no advantage over women. (No joke?) So who is happy?

"Only about 10-15 percent Americans identify themselves as truly happy. (Ironically, the poverty rate in America, as cited in the Census Bureau’s 2005 report is 13.5 percent, so maybe money doesn’t make you happy?) Certain personality traits, such as extroversion (got it), agreeableness (working on it), and conscientiousness (uhm ...), are related to happiness. However, in the right situation, anyone can be happy.

"Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (How happy can he be? He has a name nobody can spell or pronounce.) has observed that people are most satisfied with life when their work and leisure life provide them opportunity to use their skills. (But what if don't have any skills?) Somewhere between the anxiety of being overwhelmed and the apathy of being bored is the ideal mix called "flow." Happy people have more flow. (And folks like me who go from one extreme to the other without any rhyme or reason? Oh yeah, we're bi-polar.) They are appropriately challenged in ways that allow them to personally contribute.

"Happiness has also been linked to meaningful relationships. (Ah ha! I’ve always said happiness is a gift one’s loved ones give to him or her. So if you’re unhappy, blame the people you love! It's their fault, for not fulfilling your need to be happy. If you have no loved ones, blame your mother.) Individuals who are happy are supported by close relationships with family members, friends, and fellow employees. Such relationships help fulfill our need to belong to something bigger than ourselves. (Say, for example, a cult! Time Magazine had it right!) The network of friends and family also provides us with opportunities to help or be helped. If we are to maintain a healthy balance in life, we will eventually need help from others. Perhaps this partly explains the finding that married individuals, both male and female, are on average happier than single individuals. (And a butt-load happier than divorced, separated or widowed people!)"

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.

A Story, An Audition and a Rant

Wachiwi and Mai

I shared this story with a dear friend a little while back and thought I might share it with the three of you who actually read this blog. It's an old Shoshone story:

There was a lovely and delicate coyote named Wachiwi. She was spirited and fleet of foot. Her eyes flashed in the sun and she spent much of the day dancing along the plains, enjoying the splendor of God's creations. All of nature held her in the highest esteem because of her exquisite grace and humble kindness to all creatures.

Also on the plains lived another coyote named Mai. He was big and clumsy and often mocked because while chasing chickens he would frequently trip over his own feet and fall. Although he was always hungry, he would stop scrounging for food whenever he noticed Wachiwi dance among the blades of grass. His veneration towards her was unshakeable.

One day Wachiwi was dancing in the sun, alone in a field, when suddenly a stampede of buffalo came barreling over the ridge. The incensed beasts paid her no attention as they raced closer and closer, moments away from trampling the poor Wachiwi. Mai was lazily laying in the sun admiring Wachiwi's dance when the buffalo first arrived. Without thinking, he raced to her side, barely able to stay on his feet as he ran faster than he had ever before. But he was too late. At the moment he arrived by her side, the buffalo were upon them. Completely surrounded, there was nowhere for them to run.

Mai did the only thing he could do ... stand steady and strong, brave and confident with his teeth flashing. He pulled Wachiwi in close so that her back pressed against his chest and there was nowhere for her to fall. Together they stood as one among the onslaught of buffalo, Wachiwi supported by the size and generosity of the clumsy Mai. Mai snarling and snapping at the beasts as they drew near. The buffalo, now with a larger target to avoid, raced by their sides, always stepping slightly to one side or another to avoid the large, drooly, snarling obstacle in their path.

As quick as they had come, the buffalo were gone. A frightened and shaken Wachiwi asked her admirer Mai what she could ever do to repay him for his selfless act. He rolled in the grass and made himself comfortable before replying, "Finish your dance?"

Wachiwi continued her dance as Mai admired her, without a second thought to his growling stomach.

Casting About

So we had auditions for Weasel Erotica the other day. It was a long day with two three-hour sessions. We saw a lot of folks and some really great auditions. It was also a reminder of how much nicer it is to be on the other side of the table.

Auditions are nerve-wracking for actors. I hate 'em. We saw a handful of folks who were nervous auditioning for us. In the back of my head I'm thinking, "Calm down. It's not like we're anything special." Then again, to them, we might be.

Mel's in the process of getting the show cast and, judging by the talent we saw the other day, I think we're gonna be in pretty good shape. I'm very excited to get back to work with Mo, Mel and "the real king" Tony King. There's a touch of the jitters knowing that we're venturing into the great unknown again, but I'm feeling confident that we're gonna be in great shape and that we'll have a ton of fun.

A big word of thanks to everybody that came out. It was the first audition session I had been to in ages where we didn't have one single wacko. That's probably because Mel was doing the casting and not me. I always wind up calling in at least one severely disturbed person ... Mel just brought in talent.

Bonds & The Babe

Okay, so if you're a baseball fan and you have any kind of forum to speak your mind, then you've probably weighed in on the whole "Barry Bonds is about to pass Babe Ruth" issue. Bonds is just one homer away from tying Babe for second on the all time home run list. 714. A magic number.

Then again, Bonds is baseball royalty. His godfather is "Say Hey" Willie Mays, perhaps the greatest all-around player the game has ever known. Reggie Jackson is a distant cousin. Barry's daddy Bobby was a pretty darn impressive major leaguer himself. And Barry has always possessed one of the sweetest swings I've ever seen.

The issue, of course, is about Bonds' alleged use of steroids. Alleged. That's a funny word.

Normally a ball player, especially a power hitter, has something of a growth spurt in his mid-to-late-twenties. Bond's was always a tall, powerful guy. He was the first guy to ever hit 400 home runs and steal 400 bases in 1998. In 2003 he became the only guy to hit 500 home runs and steal 500 bases. The guy always was exceptional. But why did he get so huge in his mid-thirties?

The Babe didn't need performance-enhancing drugs to hit 714 home runs. In fact, legend has it that Babe consumed more than his fair-share of "less-than-performance-enhancing" food and fluid. The Babe called a shot. The Babe was a major league pitcher first. The Babe will always have a better career ERA. Take that Bonds!

Should as asterisk be placed by Bonds name? I say, "yes." But not because of all the hoopla about steroids. Because he's a Major League a$$hole. He's a 24 and 1 player, a poor teammate. He's the most selfish athlete I've ever witnessed. So, go ahead Barry, hit number 714. Try to stay healthy enough to catch Hank Aaron's 755. Just know, in my mind, there will be an asterisk ... because unlike the mythological figure of Babe Ruth, or the true class act that is Henry Aaron, you're an embarrassment to the greatest game ever played.

Look Ma, I’m a Writer!

Writing. What a pain in the a$$! Everybody who manages to put pen to paper and create something that is remotely interesting is to be commended. I’m discovering this more and more as I work on Majestic Dementia. It’s bloody hard work. Sometimes rewarding, oftentimes aggravating work.

On the other hand, I can’t help but be offended by anybody who refers to themselves as a "writer." Unless your primary source of income is being derived from writing, whether creative or not, then you really have no business calling yourself a "writer," as if that tag demonstrates some kind of mental or intellectual superiority. We’re all writers. Hell, I wrote a check today to pay the power bill ... that’s writing isn’t it?

I think I might have even less respect for "writers" than I do "actors."

Writing is just spilling out thoughts onto paper, or in this day and age, a computer screen. Teenage girls with their notes they pass back and forth in class and their diary or journal are just as much writers as Hemingway. Sure, their work may not resonate with the public like Hemingway, but they are certainly not writing any less. I bet if you ask a thirteen year old girl if her diary is important that she’ll respond in the affirmative. It’s important to her at least. But that damn sure doesn’t mean that it’s important to anybody else.

What I am writing, whether it’s for this blog or my scripts, may or may not be important to anybody other than me. That’s not the point. The point is that I feel a need to get these thoughts, these stories, these ideas out. Period. If somebody gets some joy out of my mindless rambing, then great. If not, that’s great too. I’m not trying to change the world here.

So, to my "writer" friends (you know who you are, you’re the one’s constantly writing about being a writer), get over it. You’re no more a writer than I am ... and thanks for reading my blog. Now, go write in yours. Try just being a dude who writes and not a writer of importance. Screw importance! Especially self-importance.

Getting Called on My BS

Thank God there are talented folks out there who can call me on my BS. Sticking with the topic of my "work-in-progress, one-man show," if it wasn’t for some talented people calling me on my BS, this show would turn out to be complete and utter crap. Thank God for intelligent people who can notice when I’m being pretentious, for directors who can point out when I’m giving a performance and not letting the reality of this story take place, for people who are already showing an interest in the thing.

I have to call out Cheryl King here. What a great help she has been so far. I started taking a class with this talented lady a few weeks ago and in that short time I have seen this show grow from being a vague idea rolling around the back of my head to something with real substance, truth and potential. I’ve literally done hundreds of plays (literally, not figuratively), worked on numerous television and film projects, have written skits, sketches and plays ... and there is nothing that I have been as excited about as Majestic Dementia. If this thing turns out to be anything worth seeing, much thanks and acknowledgment will have to go to her. I have found more truth, more honor and more comfort in the short time working with her than I had imagined this little grain of an idea would ever generate. On top of that, and much more importantly, she has been an inspiration ... I just can’t freakin’ wait ‘til next week’s class!

The actor with no training is getting training ... who woulda thunk it?

Let’s Go Mets!

Has anybody noticed that my New York Mets are off to the hottest start in franchise history? Has anybody noticed we’re six games up on Atlanta at the first of May? Has anybody noticed that Paul LoDuca may be the most talented and well-rounded catcher in all of baseball? Has anyone noticed that Kaz Matsui can actually play second base? Has anyone noticed that Julio Franco is the Greek god Apollo in a baseball uniform? Or that Tom Glavine can still pitch with the best of them? Or Carlos Delgado’s eleven homers? Or Jose Reyes’ four triples?

You have? Good for you. If not, head to Shea. I’ll see you there soon.

I love this time of year. The season is still young, any number of things can happen, it’s cool in the evening and not oppressively hot yet. And the NY Mets are on top of the NL East standings. All may not be right with the world, but we’re getting closer. Heading to Shea to catch our game with the Braves, and even with Zambrano slated to pitch, I’m feeling good about it. Those of you who know me know that I have been to Shea many times and only witnessed one win. One. And it was against Roger Clemens on a cold, cold, extra-innings night. So, I have reason to have a few nerves when heading out to Shea to watch us take on our rivals ... but for the first time in three years, I’m feeling I won’t be the jinx. Zambrano might be, but I won’t!

Hippos in the News

Recent reports have been published indicating that the common hippopotamus is now a member of the Endangered Species list. Here's the Associated Press report:

Polar bears, hippos, freshwater fish threatened with extinction, conservation group says
May 1, 2006
GENEVA (AP):

Polar bears, hippos and freshwater fish are among more than 16,000 species of animal, bird, fish and plant threatened with global extinction, the World Conservation Union said Tuesday.

According to the Swiss-based conservation group, known by its acronym IUCN, the number of species classified as in serious danger of extinction rose from about 15,500 in its previous Red List report, published in 2004.

These include one in three amphibians, a quarter of the world's coniferous trees and mammals and one in eight birds, according to a preview of the 2006 Red List. The full report is published later this week.

"Biodiversity loss is increasing, not slowing down," said IUCN Director General Achim Steiner.

"The implications of this trend for the productivity and resilience of ecosystems and the lives and livelihoods of billions of people who depend on them are far-reaching."

The Red List classifies about 40,000 different species according to their risk of extinction and provides a searchable online database of the results. The total number of species on the planet is unknown, with 15 million being the most widely accepted estimate. Up to 1.8 million are known today.

People are the main reason for most species' decline, mainly through habitat destruction, according to IUCN.

Polar bears are threatened by global warming and melting ice caps, because they are conditioned for the icy environment and depend on Arctic ice floes for hunting seas. They are predicted to suffer a 30 percent population decline in the next 45 years.

The hippopotamus population in war-ravaged Congo, meanwhile, has plummeted by 95 percent, mainly due to unregulated hunting for meat and ivory in their teeth.

"Regional conflicts and political instability in some African countries have created hardship for many of the region's inhabitants and the impact on wildlife has been equally devastating," said IUCN Chief Scientist Jeffrey McNeely.

Freshwater fish have suffered some of the most dramatic population declines because of human activities that damage their habitat, like forest clearance, pollution and water extraction. Around the Mediterranean, more than half of the 252 endemic species are threatened with extinction.

Seven species, including two relatives of carp, are already extinct, IUCN said.

"Reversing this trend is possible, as numerous conservation success stories have proven," Steiner said. "Biodiversity cannot be saved by environmentalists alone – it must become the responsibility of everyone with the power and resources to act."

Amen to that! The hippopotamus is endangered!?!?! What the hell are we doing to our world when hippos are endangered? I'll be posting more info on how you can help the Hippopotamus population soon! However, on a brighter note, here's a fun little story from earlier this year:

The Tortoise & The Hippo

A baby hippopotamus, swept into the Indian Ocean by the Tsunami, is finally coming out of his shell thanks to the love of a 120-year-old tortoise.

Owen, a 300kg, one-year-old hippo, was swept down the Sabaki River , into the ocean and then back to shore when the giant waves struck the Kenyan coast. The dehydrated hippo was found by wildlife rangers and taken to the Haller Park animal facility in the port city of Mombasa .

Pining for his lost mother, Owen quickly befriended a giant male Aldabran tortoise named Mzee - Swahili for "old man".

"When we released Owen into the enclosure, he lumbered to the tortoise which has a dark grey colour similar to grown up hippos," Sabine Baer, rehabilitation and ecosystems manager at the park, told Reuters on Thursday. Haller Park ecologist Paula Kahumbu said the pair were now inseparable.

After it was swept and lost its mother, the hippo was traumatised. It had to look for something to be a surrogate mother. Fortunately, it landed on the tortoise and established a strong bond. They swim, eat and sleep together, the ecologist added. The hippo follows the tortoise exactly the way it follows its mother. If somebody approaches the tortoise, the hippo becomes aggressive, as if protecting its biological mother," Kahumbu added.

"The hippo was left at a very tender age. Hippos are social animals that like to stay with their mothers for four years."She said the hippo's chances of survival in another herd were very slim, predicting that a dominant male would have killed him.Officials are hopeful Owen will befriend a female hippo called Cleo, also a resident at the park.

It Sucks To Be Me

I'm running behind meeting every deadline I've imposed on myself. It's a nasty, rainy Monday and I'm wearing the only clean pair of underwear I have left. My right eye feels like somebody poked it with a fork (did I sleep on my fist the other night?) and I can't stop rubbing it. I need a haircut. Spring is here and my winter fat (see previous post) isn't shedding as fast as it usually does. Victor Zambrano is still in the Mets' starting rotation. It sucks to be me.

Actually, I have no room to complain. None at all. There are a lot of folks out there with worse lives than mine. So while it may suck to be me ... it really sucks to be you. And that makes me feel better.

Avenue Q

Most people generally assume that because I am a "theatre person," that I follow the trends in the industry and am familiar with current shows on Broadway and in London. People assume I know this actor or that actor and that I watch artsy-fartsy stuff on cable TV. I don't. Typically, I catch up a few years after the event.

This holds true with 2004 Tony winner Avenue Q, which I just saw this weekend. It was a very enjoyable evening (not just the show, but we won't go into that here) and was the most I had laughed in a theatre in a long, long time. I gotta admit ... I love puppets. Puppets are so damn cool. And although I have never been a big fan of the "Broadway musical," this show's music was fun, lively and thoroughly enjoyable. Like music from a really hip episode of The Electric Company. Thus I've been singing "It Sucks To Be Me" for the past couple of days. The score sticks in your head as much as those tunes from children's television growing up. Guess maybe I am a member of the slacker generation.

If my naughty weasels in Weasel Erotica are half as amusing as Trekkie Monster, I think we might be on to something. One of the things that has concerned me a little with W.E. was how people would view the weasels. Would they watch the little critters or only pay attention to the actors bringing them to life? While watching Avenue Q I realized that, although I was conscious of the puppeteers at first, they soon blended in and really only functioned as the puppets' shadows. Hopefully we can capture some of that same magic when the weasels do their adult-oriented dance routine.

James Lipton & King Talent

Since it is highly unlikely that I'll be appearing on a future episode of Inside The Actor's Studio (which has become more about celebrity and less about actors) a friend recently recommended that I take the famous Bernard Pivot questionnaire and post it on my blog, since James Lipton will never be asking me these questions. This was advice again from one of those friends who remind me that, although this blog is amusing every-now-and-then, it tells you nothing about me. So, here you go ... something about me:

What is your favorite word?
Passion.

What is your least favorite word?
Failure.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Laughter, confidence, security. Eyes that flash.

What turns you off?
Selfishness. Even my own.

What is your favorite curse word?
F*ck.

What sound or noise do you love?
The gentle breathing of a loved one.

What sound or noise do you hate?
The sound of people smacking while they eat.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Baseball player. I did attempt it, but kind of half-assed.

What profession would you not like to do?
Umpire. Or anything in the medical profession.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"It's only intermission."

Scratchy Throat

Well, I'm finally done yelling at Jesus. The Passion Play has closed it's run for 2006 and I couldn't be happier. Now I can really devote my attention(s) to the major projects Baby Hippopotamus has coming up. I've been really remiss over the past three or four weeks and have a lot to do to get things back on track. I don't know why, but I constantly seem to find myself in these circumstances where I have projects overlapping. It's exhausting. And year after year, I do it. Last year it was directing Loves Labours Lost while prepping Abnormal Stew. The year before it was working on a film during the run of Coriolanus. I gotta cut this crap out. It really cuts into my nap time.

Oops ... I've Been Remiss!

Okay, so after doing a pretty bang-up job updating this blog every week or so, it looks like I've let it slip for a while. Needless to say, I've been busy and distracted ... which is just a fancy way of saying that I've slipped back into the old habit of being just plain lazy. So while this may be far from the most entertaining post, I'll go ahead and give everybody (all three of you who read this thing) an update on what the ol' King has been up to.

Almost Done Yellin' At Jesus

This year's run of The Passion Play comes to an end this coming weekend. I give my final performance as Pilate on Saturday and then finish the run off playing some much smaller roles on Sunday. It's been a fun experience and, as it was three years ago, has been quite rewarding. On a personal note, I feel I gave some pretty good performances and at least one miserable one. It happens. I don't beat myself up over it ... at least, not any more. Bouncing back and forth between the roles of Caiaphas and Pilate has been something of a challenge and I'm glad I came back to the Park Performance Arts Center for this run. Yeah, it helps that the theatre is only ten blocks from the house. It was the 90th Anniversary of this production and I am proud to have been a part of it.

Although I touched on reviews several posts ago, I'm gonna dredge up the subject again. We were fortunate enough to get a review from the Newark Star-Ledger that, while mostly a positive review, brought up some more thoughts on the subject of reviews and critics. Now, I haven't any room to complain ... I came out smelling like a rose. Here's what critic Peter Filichia had to say about my Pilate:

"Rich Warren -- a non-Equity actor, by the way -- gives the best performance as Pontius Pilate, though villains are often the easiest characters to play. Warren has a deadness in his eyes that shows Pilate has made one important decision too many, and that he no longer believes the shekel stops here. To him, Jesus is just another annoyance in a busy day."

Like I said, I have no room to complain. But I couldn't help but notice the little jab about villains. I never once have thought about Pilate as a villain ... at least not in the Snidely Whiplash, Iago, Darth Vader kind of way. That may fly in the face of somebody's theology, but I don't see why. I think of him more along the lines of somebody who was trapped between a rock and a hard place who had to make a very difficult, very political decision. I certainly wouldn't classify the role as one that has been "easy to play."

But this particular critic liked to take jabs here and there. He points out that the actor playing Jesus has a Southern accent, that the fake beards worn by many in the show (myself included during Caiaphas performances) "look silly," and that many of the actors in smaller roles "make overly expansive gestures." Ah well, you can't please all the people all the time. But judging by the audiences reactions each performance, I think we came awfully close.

Majestic Dementia

Progress on my one-man show is being made very steadily and I can honestly say that I am at least to the point where I am starting to visualize what the show may finally become. I started taking a weekly class with a wonderful talent named Cheryl King each week with other students also working on solo material. Each person in the class has very different ways of approaching their material and each person's material is unique and intriguing. Never having had an acting class (nor a writing class) of any kind, I have to admit I was a little worried going into this. But it has turned out to be a very rewarding and constructive experience so far. Needless to say, dramatizing what is essentially my auto-biography is not an easy thing to do. I'm curious to find out how difficult it will be to perform it.

I'm still targeting the fall (after Weasel Erotica's run) for the premiere production. I may workshop parts of the show at Cheryl's studio (Stage Left on 37th Street) here and there through the summer, but I don't expect the full thing to take off until fall. Additionally, I'll be doing bits and pieces as stand-up at open-mics just to get them in front of an audience. Will try to keep everybody posted on when I'm performing and where.

Weasel Erotica

I am putting the pieces of Weasel Erotica together with performances already scheduled for August. It looks like The Talented Talent Brothers are going to reassemble soon. I am very lucky to have already begun to assemble a remarkable team for this project ... in terms of on-stage talent as well as folks the audience will never see. Just wait 'til you see the weasels themselves ... that alone may be worth the price of admission. Keep checking babyhippopotamus.com for details ... and while you're there, order yourself a Weasel Erotica t-shirt. I just got mine and it kicks a$$. Auditions will be held in the coming weeks ... expect a major press barrage soon.

Film Talent

Last week I attended the premiere screening of The Interrogation, a film shot in late '04 (I still can't believe it was that long ago) featuring yours truly in the lead role. It was a festive occasion as Zanadune Productions screened both that film and one they had made previously entitled Mitosis. Two very different, yet very creepy films made by some very impressive people. Well, that's my take, and I'm sticking to it.

It was great to catch up with that wonderful family of filmmakers (Sabahat, Shafaat and Sabila Khan) as well as the talented crew and my co-star, in incomparable Max Tapper. I was also pleased and rewarded that many close friends attended and that I was surrounded by friendly faces. However, it was, for me, a very awkward experience. I'm just not a big fan of watching myself on screen. I'm even less of a fan of watching myself on screen in a crowded room. So, in lieu of watching, I kind of just listened and stared at the wall next to the screen. Hopefully Shafaat will get me a copy on DVD so that I can watch in the privacy of my own home and come to a decision regarding how happy I am with it.

The experience, though, was definitely one I was happy with. Thrilled, even. What a great group of people to work with. They were very welcoming and made me feel like part of the family. That's important. I've been on quite a few film sets, but never any that was so relaxed and accommodating, especially considering the intense nature of the story being told. I'm not gonna spoil that here ... you'll have to check out the film. Most folks at the screening certainly seemed to enjoy it and the feedback was very positive. Even after some technical difficulties got the film off to a big silent start. Many, many thanks right here and now to you who came and checked it out. And a note to the good Zanadune folks ... anytime you need me, I'll be there.

Added a couple of new links here to Zanadune's website as well as to Sabila Khan's addictive blog. Click the links over there and check 'em out.