Elmo, I'm begging you to wake up earlier!

Elmo, for the sake of my reputation as a capable stay-at-home father, please get your furry red ass out of bed a little earlier, okay?

Your insistence on appearing during the last 20 minutes of the early morning Sesame Street is severely hindering my ability to deliver my 5-year-old daughter Dorothea to school on time. We have a routine that could change if only you, Elmo, would make a couple of minor adjustments to your schedule. Currently, Dorothea wakes up at approximately 7:05 A.M. followed by her nearly 2-year-old sister Carmela only moments later. I get the girls dressed, have them go to the toilet and brush their teeth, and then find myself with approximately 3 minutes to shower and dress. That's enough for me, and I allow the girls to watch Sesame Street until I'm all cleaned up. If your "Svengali-like" hold on my children was not at play when I arrive from a hot shower ready to seize the day we all could easily march downstairs by 7:35 AM to eat breakfast before leaving for school at 8:01 AM. There is a barrier standing in our way to comfortably do this, however. Elmo, that barrier is you.

Your insistence on performing your Elmo's World dog and pony show from approximately 7:34 AM up to 7:48 AM cuts into the time available for all of us to have a nourishing oatmeal feast before our fuel efficient car chugs away to Dorothea's school, one institution of young learning which I have called the scholastic equivalent of living on Sesame Street (an homage to the gravy train that allows you to continue to be a superstar despite your flagrant grammatical gaffs and pipsqeauk voice).

Listen, I understand that you reign supreme as the "money shot" for early morning program. You're a star. I'm just a simple dad trying to get his kids a good breakfast and an honest education. You seem to be single with few obligations. I'm aware of your fish Dorothy and the strange "Noodle Family" that is part of your bag of tricks, but I think you could easily bring them along on an altered morning plan.

Here's what I suggest: you go on in the first 20 minutes of the show. I could let the girls watch your slappy little tap dance from 7:05-7:25 AM, shower myself, and then dress them and have them do all their bathroom business from 7:25-7:35 AM. Then my family has our high fiber breakfast in peace while you retreat to the hole you live in on Sesame Street while Big Bird and Cookie Monster renew their careers and show all the kids that the old school performers know how to keep it real. Look at these two. Get the hell out of their way and let them do what they do best--kick it for the kids.



I don't suspect you'll budge. I know things about you because of this behind-the-scenes footage from the folks at Frog Island Flicks. You're not a nice man...er woman...er...what the hell are you anyway? Elmo, thanks for nothing. I blame you, and you alone, for all the peanut butter and bagel crumbs in my car because the girls are forced to eat their breakfast on the run because you won't budge. I hope the world will see you for what you are after watching this--A GROUCH (and I say that meaning absolute no insult to Oscar, who I think is totally cool).

And because I also like this dude...

Go to my pal Leonard Jacob's witty and informed blog on theatre and stuff. I've know Leonard forever (even when I could still out drink him) and he's only gotten better at talking about the theatre and the stuff over the years. So click away to The Clyde Fitch Report right now!

Tuesday is so much better because it comes after Monday

A little shout out for blogger Tony Clements and his blog Tuesday's Blog. It's good. I like what he writes. You should, too. Go to his blog now. Now you here me, now! What are you waiting for?

Jonathan West, The Tortured Years

Jonathan West, The Tortured Years
Originally uploaded by artsyschmartsy

Let it never be said that I am a fashionista.

This is my penance for not posting more often.

I think I was eight years old in this picture. I'm pretty sure I weigh less now than I did then.

It's Christmas morning 1978. I think I'm holding a stocking full of Chocolate Covered Cherries in my right hand and a take out menu for when I get hungry later in my left.

God, I wish I still had that robe.

Snuby and Mona at The Frosty The Snowman Roast

Snubby and Mona had to share a stage. It had to happen. Would you ever really have cared about Captain without Tenille? No need to answer, just read the final installment of Snubby's and Mona's highjinkery!

SNUBBY AND MONA AT THE FROSTY THE SNOWMAN ROAST

(It’s the shank of the evening. Snubby and Mona enter together. Frosty has been roasted by a C-list line up of wiseguys. It’s time for his rebuttal. Mona and Snubby have empty cocktail glases in hand.)

Snubby Franks
Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

Mona Grazelli
You’re too kind. I love you all.

Snubby Franks
She means it folks. You’ll believe it when you’re making her breakfast in the morning.

Mona Grazelli
Snubby, you kill me.

Snubby Franks
Not yet Mona, but it you keep scuffing my shoes, I might make a few calls.

(They share a good-natured boozy laugh.)

Mona Grazelli
Snubby, don’t you think it’s time we brought Frosty up here to say a few words.

Snubby Franks
How about, “I want my mommy!” I almost feel bad about how we’ve treated the old snow guy tonight. He’s gonna feel worse tomorrow morning than he did the day after he had a few too many Tom and Jerry’s with Nanuck of The North.

Mona Grazelli
Aw, come on, he’s a big boy. I once saw him take on a whole gang of street thugs.

Snubby Franks
Did he get beaten to a pulp?

Mona Grazelli
Nah, he just froze.

(Mona laughs at her own joke. Snubby gives her a look.)

Snubby Franks
Mona, darling. Stick to singing. I’ll do the jokes tonight.

Mona Grazelli
Whenever you’re ready. We’ve been waiting all night.

Snubby Franks
Why don’t you give me a break from smelling your perfume and go get Frosty.

Mona Grazelli
My pleasure. I’ll freshness up my drink, too. Bartender, don’t skimp on the nutmeg this time!

(She exits.)

Snubby Franks
Mona Grazelli, ladies and gentlemen. Isn’t she something? Every time I see Mona I remember one thing. Some ladies sure can wear a mustache.

Before Frosty comes up here, I just wanted to remind you all that we didn’t really mean any of the bad things we said about Frosty tonight. No. We just couldn’t say what we were really thinking because the cops would have shut the place down.

(Mona screams from off stage. She enters carrying a bucket and a top hat.)

Mona Grazelli
Snubby! Oh my gosh! We have a big problem!

Snubby Franks
Mona, Mona. Calm down. I haven’t seen you like this since they discontinued the Autumn Maple hair dye you used to buy for a dollar twenty-eight.

Mona Grazelli
Snubby. It’s Frosty. This is a BIG, BIG problem! I mean, a really BIG ONE!

(Mona begins to crumble. She cries uncontrollably. Snubby tries to calm her down.)

Snubby Franks
Mona! Stop it, you’re hysterical! Control yourself! Calm down! Calm down! I’m sorry to do this, but it’s the only way!

(He dips his empty cocktail glass in the bucket of water and throws his drink in Mona’s face.)

Snubby Franks
Now stop it! Mona, where’s Frosty?

Mona Grazelli
All over my face! You just threw Frosty in my face!

Snubby Franks
You mean…

Mona Grazelli
Yeah. In the bucket.

Snubby Franks
And the hat?

Mona Grazelli
It’s his.

Snubby Franks
What happened?

Mona Grazelli
We roasted him too well!

Snubby Franks
What about the magic in that old hat business?

Mona Grazelli
It’s just a song Snubby. I mean that’s like thinking that Rudolph really has a red nose. Everybody knows that was just a really bad pimple.


Snubby Franks
Folks, what can I say? How about have a drink? Mona and I need to talk to the bartender for a minute. Hey Joey, remember the time Dom Deluise got overheated and we stuck him in the ice bath. We’re gonna need the tubby ice treament again!

(They are off. Really, really off.)

Mona Grazelli at The Frosty The Snowman Roast

Snubby needs a wing man. Er, wing woman.

MONA GRAZELLI AT THE FROSTY THE SNOWMAN ROAST

(We’re back at the Frosty The Snowman Roast. A woman in garish attire staggers on-stage. She is swilling egg nog from a Martini glass. If Ethel Merman, Bette Midler, Judy Garland, Liza Minelli and Joanne Worley had been put into a blender and poured into a mold, Mona Grazelli is what would have popped out.)

MONA GRAZELLI
Thanks so much for joining us tonight for this great tribute to Frosty. I was happy to take time off from my hit Branson variety Show, “Mona Grazelli: The Colors of My Hair” to come out tonight. I wouldn’t miss any chance to raise one to the old Ice Man! Frosty, you cometh! Moi je t’aime le Frost. Besame mucho, Senor Frosty. Guten tag, Frostenhimmel. John Jacob Jingle Heimer Frosty, his name is my name, too! Frosty, you’re my man.

I love you ice cubes.

(Mona begins to sob crocodile tears.)

You’ll have to excuse me folks. Eight shows a week has made me emotional. Thank goodness for this eggnog, right? Ladies, get yourself a glass. You’ll be happy you did later when they turn on the lights and you get a good look at your date.

Well, while I’m hear, how about a song? You know, I love to sing all the old time holiday favorites. They remind me of the simpler times times when a fella and a gal could meet under the mistletoe and start something magic with one perfect kiss. That’s how I met my first six husbands. I loved them all, but Frosty, now you give me the chills. Hit it Myron!

(Mona sings a more swinging version of Frosty than Jimmy Durante or Burl Ives ever knew.)

Frosty the Snowman
Was a swinging, snappy cat
He’s got some girth
And a load of mirth
Cuz of his tall crazy hat

Frosty the Snowman
Isn’t some big slushy weeny
You can chill your gin
Right on Frosty’s chin
For a marvelous Martini

If Frosty was an ice cream cone
I think he’d be pistachio
He’s cool, he’s sauve, he's on the job
He a fluffy ball of macho

My song is almost done
But wouldn’t it fun
For all of us to join in song
For a sciddily dat sing-a-long

Everybody!

Scoobidy, di, dat, doobie dee
Scoobidy, di, dat, doobie dee
Look at Frosty scat
Scoobidy, di, dat, doobie dee
Scoobidy, di, dat, doobie dee
He’s one icy cold crazy cat!

He’s an icy cold crazy hat wearing coo coo cat!

Yeah!

(Mona exits. But, oh, yes, she will be back.)

Snubby Franks at The Frosty The Snowman Roast

In honor of our horrific Wisconsin winter, I give you, Snubby Franks.

SNUBBY FRANKS AT THE FROSTY THE SNOWMAN ROAST

(The scene is a Friar’s type roast for Frosty The Snowman. Think old school, Rat Pack, tuxedo clad comedians taking digs at Frosty. The emcee, Snubby Franks, a borshcht belt comic who is a mix of Milton Berle, Don Rickles, and Joey Bishop enters. I’m all in favor of any rim shots any drummer can provide. In fact, I’m begging for them.)

Snubby Franks
Good evening. Good evening. How are ya? How are ya? What a night! What a crowd! In a minute, we’ll get things rolling, but before I begin, I have an announcement.

(He pulls a piece of paper out of his tuxedo jacket and reads it.)

You’re lazy, that outfit makes you look like a tube of Jimmy Dean pork sausage, and next time you get a hair cut, shell out more than eight fifty so you don’t get the barber with the white cane and sunglasses.

What can I tell you folks, you’ll hear things tonight that you’d never hear in the safety and comfort of your own home. That is, unless you’re married to a monkey.

I’m Snubby Franks, the king of the one-liner. I used to be the king of the two-liner, but I couldn’t afford the overhead.

As you all know, we’re here tonight to honor one of the all time greats. One of the biggest menschs around. One of the sweetest bubbelas ever to come to town.

But the Virgin Mary had her bridge game tonight, so we decided to come together to roast that rolly polly shmendrick Frosty The Snowman.

You know when the asked me to have a roast for Frosty The Snowman, I said, “Alright. But I’d prefer a nice brisket.”

Frosty and I go way back. And that’s no surprise, because he’s been around forever. I’m not saying Frosty is old, but he just applied for a new job and on the application where it asked for his birthday he wrote Ice Age.

Ice Age. Come on folks, we’re roasting frosting the snowman, not having a MENSA convention.

Frosty. The Easter Bunny called. He wants the carrot back.

You know what I admire about Frosty, folks?

(He pauses and looks out at the audience.)

Raise you hand if you know, because I have no idea.

The best thing about Frosty is you don’t need to shovel him.

Frosty, didn’t anyone tell you? No white after Labor Day.

Frosty is as pure as the driven snow. Of course, he’s drifted a bit lately.

I think of Frosty every time I eat ice cream. Just as soon as I get the headache.

Frosty. What did I say? Why the cold shoulder?

Folks it gets better than this, I promise. My vicodin should kick in any minute.

Think about it for a minute folks. Have you ever seen Frosty and the Pillsbury Dough Boy together in the same room? Curious. Very curious.

There’s magic in that old hat of Frosty’s. But you know what else you’ll find in there? His toupee. Frosty, you’re not fooling anyone. You make Ted Koppel look like a hippie.

Frosty looks great, doesn’t he folks. He lost some weight. I almost didn’t recognize him. I thought he was that lamb chop I’ve had in the back of my freezer since 1975.

Frosty, I found your wallet in the parking lot again. How many times do I have to tell you, a snow bank is not where you keep your money?

Thank you, thank you ladies and gentleman. Your silence will help with my daily meditation. Ohhmm! Ohhmm! Oy! I pulled something.

Enjoy the rest of the show folks. You can thank me later for setting the bar so low.

(Snubby is gone. But not forgotten.)