Stumbling Toward the Light

The now-ended USA Network series Monk has been a favorite of mine almost since it began in the early Naughts, even though mystery is usually not a genre that interests me all that much in books, films or TV. This is largely because of the main character (with whom I identify probably way more than is good for me) and the amazing performance of the actor who portrayed him: Tony Shalhoub, who first came to my attention in the painfully-accurate Disney fandom spoof GalaxyQuest, and has since rightly earned an Emmy® Award for his work in this show. (And if you haven't seen it, good God almighty, go rent a DVD or stream of it somewhere already; you're missing out on some damn good viewing.)

What follows back of the cut is a short-short I wrote of a scene that never happened in the show, but damned well ought to have: the defective detective being honored at an official ceremony for his work by his city's then real-life mayor (who turned up in the show and got just as peeved at Monk as nearly every real-life celebrity he encountered, much like Dr. Sheldon Cooper later on in The Big Bang Theory...except Monk's not nearly as obnoxious). Let me know what you think.
( Mr. Monk and the Medal of Honor )

Legendary radio/TV host Casey Kasem has died at 82 after a long, tragic and very public struggle with both family drama and debilitating illness at a hospital in Gig Harbor, WA—ironically enough, on Father's Day. Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts Jr., one of my favorite pundits, is one of the few media figures writing about Kasem's life, career and death from a perspective of personal first-hand experience, having worked for the man for two years. His remembrance is here...and you can read about the nationally syndicated radio show that made his name a household word in this book.

Casey's distinctive voice was part of the soundtrack of my childhood and adolescence from almost as far back as I was capable of listening to radio and watching TV; he recorded a plethora of voices for characters on animated cartoon TV shows in the 1960s, '70s and '80s, of which Scooby-Doo's stoner pal Shaggy was only the most famous; he also was the voice of Batman's sidekick Robin in the various incarnations of Super Friends, and even played the Hobbit Merry in Rankin-Bass' serviceable animated adaptation of Tolkien's The Return of the King (long before Peter Jackson got his mitts on it). But it was as host of the seminal radio countdown show American Top 40 that he made the largest impact on me; I listened religiously every week when I lived within broadcast range of a station carrying it to see how the day's pop and rock singles moved up and down the chart, hear Casey tell background stories about the people who sang them, and listen to his admittedly sometimes schmaltzy "Long Distance Dedications" from listeners all over the USA and around the world (his show was carried on Armed Forces Radio, so he got a lot of requests from service personnel at forward bases). For awhile I even kept written lists of the songs on each show and their movements...even after he left the show and Ryan Seacrest added hosting it to his ever-growing list of jobs. Along with the late Dick Clark, Casey kept his finger on the pulse of popular music even long after it would seem to have passed his generation by.

He was also a tireless activist for a number of causes dear to my own heart, including affordable housing, environmentalism and animal rights, and against stereotyping and maltreatment of Arab-Americans in and out of show business—a cause which sadly has only gotten more important, not less, in the decade and change since 9/11. And he backed Democratic candidates from Jesse Jackson to Dennis Kuchinich in several Presidential races, with his name, his time, his wealth and his talent.

My heart broke to read stories of the dissension between members of his family as he got older and sicker, and the news of his death came almost as a mercy after all of this. Deepest sympathies nonetheless to them all, including second wife Jean and his three children; to all who knew and loved and worked with him or were colleagues; and to his many fans, in whose number Your Humble still unabashedly counts himself...and to the man himself, a heartfelt "thank you" for decades of entertainment and the hope his soul is finally at peace.

Veteran British character actor and director Bob Hoskins has died at the age of 71 of what his publicist describes as pneumonia. The poor man had been suffering from Parkinson's disease for the past three years and had only two years ago announced his retirement from acting due to the illness. CNN's website has an obit here with a wonderful picture gallery of some of Bob's best roles—including one or two about which I'd had no idea until now (example: Enemy at the Gates, in which he played the late former Soviet Union leader Nikita Khrushchev under some amazing heavy makeup).

If he'd never done anything more than breathe life into a hard-bitten Hollywood gumshoe named Eddie Valiant in Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (arguably the most amazing combo of live-action and animation since another film by the Disney studio, Fantasia, at the time), I'd consider him worth remembering. But he did so many other wonderful bits of stage, film and TV work over 3.5 decades...and no matter what his look, his accent, his lines or his behavior, when his balding mug was on screen, you just simply couldn't take your eyes off it. Even in a minor role like the obnoxious screenwriter Stanley Gould in a 1986 bit of cinematic fluff called Sweet Liberty, directed by and starring Alan Alda, Bob made the most of it, committing gleeful, shameless grand larceny on every scene he was in...and you invariably enjoyed the living daylights out of watching him do it.

Deepest sympathies to his two wives and four children, the rest of his family, friends, colleagues, co-workers and his many, many fans, in whose number Your Humble proudly counts himself. Thank you, sir, for a lifetime of hard work keeping us all entertained...and I hope your soul is at peace and free of pain at last.

Okay, I admit: I was trepidatious at first upon learning that the late, great and sadly missed Dr. Carl Sagan's groundbreaking old 1980s PBS television series Cosmos was going to be "updated" (or "remade," "rebooted," "reimagined," or pick your current TV-industry verb) for the new millennium. Your Humble tends to have a knee-jerk reaction about remakes in general, especially of old and classic shows and films that were unquestionably done right the first time. All too often, the intent of those doing the remake is a cynical attempt to cash in on an existing "brand" rather than any actual need or artistic impulse to improve on the original.

But given that so much has been discovered about the universe and our place in it during the intervening decades, there is certainly at least some justification for an update in this case. And I felt more sanguine about the news once I learned three things that greatly lessened the likelihood of the new show being a desecration of the original: 1) famed astronomer Neil deGrasse Tyson (arguably the new Sagan of his generation, and a protegé of his) would be hosting and producing; 2) Sagan's widow Ann Druyan, who co-produced the original, is also heavily involved; and 3) cable's National Geographic Channel would be airing it, along with the Fox broadcast network. (And isn't that a step up? I can remember when nobody but PBS would go near this sort of material for fear of ratings disaster. Yes, I know, I'm showing my age. Now you kids get offa my lawn.)

Even better for us over here on the Dark Continent, NGC's African channel Nat Geo Wild gets the show about a week after its US airing, and is airing it here as well. Now we've finally seen the first episode, and it does seem a promising start, maintaining the spirit of the original while incorporating new data and material (Tyson's recollection of his own visit to Sagan in his Ithaca, NY home is especially apt and moving)—not to mention fabulously updated graphics and special effects. However....
( Long angry nerd nitpicking rant back of the cut. Don't say you weren't warned. )

As the poets have mournfully sung,
Death takes the innocent young,
The rolling in money,
The screamingly funny
And those who are very well hung.
—W. H. Auden

One of the finest examples of Auden's third category ever to come out of that superstar-comedian factory known as Chicago's Second City troupe is lost to us now. Actor-director-writer Harold Ramis, perhaps best known for his portrayal of bespectacled, deadpan occult scientist Dr. Egon Spengler in the two Ghostbusters films and his masterwork Groundhog Day, has died at 69 after a long struggle with autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis that for a while had cost him his ability to walk. His hometown paper has an obit for him here. He passed away a week ago, on Feb. 24, and I only just learned of it yesterday through reading a remembrance of him in the latest issue of Time magazine, written by his friend and sometime director Ivan Reitman.

At last night's 86th annual Academy Awards ceremony in Hollywood, CA, Ramis' longtime friend and frequent comedic partner-in-crime Bill Murray, appearing as the cinematography award presenter, managed to sneak in a tribute to his old pal, with whom he'd ironically been on the outs for the past decade. (Reports indicate, however, that they did patch things up prior to Ramis' death, and that Murray even visited him at his home in his final days.) I am now informed that the producers of the Oscarcast did in fact include a formal tribute to him in their memorial segment—which relieves me greatly; not having done so would have been a scandal to the jaybirds, as Ramis made possible some of the industry's biggest paydays over his long career. (You can read about Murray's effort to honor his friend here.)

He was also responsible for some of the finest, funniest, most entertaining hours Your Humble (and millions of others) ever spent sitting in front of screens both large and small. Deepest sympathies to his two wives and three children, the rest of his relations, Mr. Murray and his other collaborators and friends, and his many fans. I hope and pray to whatever God or gods there be that he knew before he left us how much he was loved and appreciated, and what a mark he made on our culture. As Murray put it in a formal statement, Harold Ramis "earned his keep on this planet"...in spades.

Fans of folk music and believers in progressive ideals are all experiencing a truly indescribable sadness today. Singer, songwriter and activist Pete Seeger has died at the improbable age of 94 of as-yet-unannounced causes. The Los Angeles Times has an obituary for him here, and Wikipedia's page on him lists his accomplishments far better than I ever could.
( Cut for space. )

As some of you will recall, a few days ago I announced our return to the good old US of A for a brief surprise visit. We had gotten into JFK Airport in NYC Monday evening and had to scramble to find a hotel room as we had failed to reserve one prior to departure, and we had Thanksgiving Day scheduled as time with the Songbird's family and Friday for stocking up on various items we needed/wanted that are unobtainium in Africa, but I had also invited contact from any of this journal's readers who wanted it as well as friends reading my Facebook posts, for any time between then and today. And several friends responded with invitations to call or possibly meet.

Well...now all of a sudden it is Sunday morning and I have utterly failed to get in touch with or see anyone not related by marriage. And we still have packing, picking up a few last-minute things, visiting SB's dad's grave and her family one last time, checking in to our flights, getting our bags wrapped and checked and returning the rental car prior to getting into that inevitably horridly crowded TSA line to board our flight back.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I was so preoccupied with all the above that I failed you all, and I am truly, dreadfully sorry. SB should not — repeat, NOT — be blamed for any of this. I will be glad to contact any or all of you at the next opportunity between now and our arrival home in Mbabane on Tuesday, or thereafter. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive my poor planning and lack of nerve and/or common sense.

( A lot more than I'd expected, actually... )
So...howzabout you?