Travel Holiday

Happy President’s Day. Thought I’d share some exotic photos I took with my iPhone. Here’s Maui at night. There are so many artists and craftsmen on the island. Here’s a jewelry stand featuring the best of local talent.

I forget. This is either a pig for tonight’s luau or a glass blower.

A limbo contest. There were six of us taking pictures — only of this girl.

This is from the Wailea Marriott. Maybe the worst room in Hawaii. It’s right on the corridor leading from the lobby to all the rooms and the pool.

Makawao — a charming cowboy town. It’s where you can find western wear and of course, sushi.

The U.S. Synchronized Swimming Team. A lock for the gold.

More nature… the caverns and lagoons on Maui are breathtaking.

And even though this last picture doesn’t give you a good sense of Hawaii I thought I’d include it anyway.

Now begins the fun part of AMERICAN IDOL, when the 36 top contestants sing for America and get rejected by YOU.

Side note: Was there anything more boring than last Wednesday night’s show? Not one but two hours of watching anxious kids walk the grounds of Flava Flav’s mansion or wherever they hell they were to be told yay or nay by Simon and the Three Stooges.

To prepare you for the festivities ahead, my daughter Annie and I will provide all the information you need to go into these next rounds suitably prejudiced.

Before we start, it seems unfair that kids with recording contracts or starring roles in WICKED should be in competition with oil rig hard hat guys. Isn’t the idea to give people a chance who otherwise couldn’t meet Clive Davis if Clive ran them over with his car?

That said, here are some of this year’s candidates.

Adam Lambert – He’s from San Francisco. He’s in the LA production of WICKED, and people were shocked to hear he’s gay. Should do great on Andrew Lloyd Webber night, really bad on red neck country night.

Michael Sarver – Works on an oil rig. Has never heard of WICKED.

Alexis Grace – 21 with a kid. Hey, it worked for Fantasia. Hopes to get a recording contract and afford day care. Does great Celine Dion impression. Is that a good thing?

Tatiana Nicole Del Toro – Completely nuts. Easily the most annoying contestant ever. The only time I want to see Tatiana on Fox is when Jack Bauer is torturing her. And even if she tells him what he wants to know he still doesn’t stop.

Danny Gokey – Great singer. Wife died. He would have made it anyway.

Jorge Nunez – Sang in Spanish. Did I miss something? Is this Puerto Rico Idol?

Scott MacIntyre – Blind. That alone should put him in the top 5. As a bonus, he can actually sing!

Jackie Tohn – Didn’t bring down the house in Hollywood but brought down the screen in her New York audition. She says phrases like: “What up with the what-ups?” Gibberish to the rest of the world but Randy Jackson.

Nathaniel Marshall — 18, mom’s in prison, cries a lot, sports multiple studs, wears headbands, bandanas, can snap his toes. Will either become AMERICAN IDOL or QUEEN FOR A DAY.

Nick Mitchell – Also known as “Norman Gentle”, a flamboyant diva bad lounge act. Always sings in this character. Still more genuine than Tatiana.

Taylor Vaifauna – (pictured above) 16, Polynesian, and of course is from Utah.

Anoop Desai – Slumdog Idol.

Matt Breitzke – Welder. Some contestants play their own instruments. He builds his own sets.

Kristen McNamara – Blonde, can yodel. Better hope there’s yodeling week. Otherwise, no chance.
Jesse Langseth – We have no idea.

Ricky Brady – Same with this guy. Who the hell is he?

Pretty girl/sings pretty well – AnnaMarieBoskovichCaseyCarlsonKendallBeardMeganCorkreyMishavonnaHensonStevieWright

Pretty boy/sings pretty well – AlexWagnerTrugmanBrentKeithKaiKalamaKrisAllenMattGiraudVonSmith

May the least offensive, least derivative, best looking person who sleeps with Paula win.

Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s also my birthday. Like Jack Benny (whose birthday was also February 14th) I’m 39 today. And a young 39 damn it!

To mark this day of amour I thought I’d share my least favorite romantic sequence in any movie. This is from LOVE STORY, the gold standard for over-the-top cringeworthy sentimentality. Keep in mind this film was not just a hit, it was a national sensation.

Our scene opens with Oliver (Ryan O’Neal) searching for Jenny (Ali McGraw)… and searching… and searching… and searching. But hang in there, because the pay off — both the acting and the writing — is so worth it.

Many thanks to fellow writer Rob Long for his way-too-kind piece on this blog in his radio commentary, MARTINI SHOTS on NPR’s KCRW in Santa Monica. I’m still blushing. In addition to producing CHEERS when he was like nine, Rob has become one of the top sitcom writers in town (along with his partner, Dan Staley) and has also carved out a nice niche for himself as a pundit and author. His book on television, CONVERSATIONS WITH MY AGENT, is must reading.

In his feature on me he brought up an anecdote I had completely forgotten but was true and worth sharing here. So if I may paraphrase his story paraphrasing me:

Back in 1993 my partner and I had created a summer show for CBS called BIG WAVE DAVE’S. Rob and Dan were our producers. I think Rob was eleven then. We did the show for Paramount (and I can tell this story since no one involved is remotely still associated with the studio. In fact, this was probably four full regimes ago.)

Our line producer informed me that the studio refused to pay our secretary’s parking. The budget for each episode was over a million dollars. Weekly parking was $13. Above-the-line people (writers, directors, producers, actors) got to park on the lot for free. Below-the-line peons had to park in a structure across the street.

And don’t let the Hollywood address fool you. This was not a great neighborhood. I used to call the lot “Fort Paramount”. While working at WINGS on rewrite night we often watched drug deals go down across the street at the parking structure. An ice cream truck would arrive every night about 11 and we would say, “Cracky, the clown is here. Looks like he’s got some great shit tonight for the kiddies!”

So I was pissed. No one works harder and more hours than the writers’ secretary. It’s bad enough they had to park in a war zone. The least the studio could do was pay for their parking. (Note: we also made sure one of us walked them out to their cars, another little safety service the studio felt no obligation to perform).

I called the studio bean counter and raised hell. But it was studio policy. There was nothing he could do. I then asked what would constitute a legitimate production expense? He said research. “You mean like a book?” I said. He said, yes. “Fine,” I continued, “I just bought a book this week. It’s called HOW TO PARK YOUR SECRETARY and it cost thirteen bucks.”

That he approved.

So every week I would call with another essential research book I bought. Titles like THE IN’S AND OUT’S OF BUYING YOUR PA’S PIZZA and Rob’s favorite, A BIRTHDAY CAKE FOR THE WEIRD GUY IN PROPS.

I should mention that none of the other major studios were any different. But that was then. Things have since changed.

Writers now have to park across the street.

Technical difficulties solved and here’s last night’s Grammys review by Annie Levine & Brock Wilbur. Worth waiting for. Think “me” but hipper and in some cases funnier.
Here’s a short run-down of observations from the Grammy Awards last night. It would be longer, but in the four hours of broadcast, there wasn’t much worth of commentary. Hell, the red carpet was almost entirely film actors because no one has anything to say about music this year.

A few quick bits from the red carpet pre-show:

-Joey Fatone asked Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson why he’s trying to abandon “The Rock” and just be Dwayne Johnson. This question coming from “The Fat Guy in N’Sync”. The co-host asked The Rock how it feels to be a huge movie star. He reminded the audience that his new film, “Race to Witch Mountain”, opens soon.

-Rapper T.I. just arrived. He’s going to jail for a year, so this is his last public performance. It’s a lot like The Blues Brothers movie, except they were in trouble with the cops because they were on a mission from God to save an orphanage. T.I. situation is surprisingly similar: Busted by cops in a sting operation, where he was trying to purchase machine guns and silencers.

-Snoop Dogg says that now his “Father Hood” reality show is on the air, people approach him every day to ask for parenting advice. There’s no joke for this one. If you’ve seen him busted by his wife for going against her wishes and taking David Beckham out for Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles, then teaching his son a life lesson by letting him direct his own music video… There’s no joke for this one.

-Herbie Hancock says he was stunned by his win last year because “conventional wisdom said it was going to be Amy Winehouse or—“ (Interrupted) The interviewer says “Yeah, it’s that same magic that let Obama become the new President!” Am I wrong, or did the guy just say that Herbie Hancock is to Barack Obama as Amy Winehouse is to John McCain? Hopefully, the first of many Winehouse/McCain comparisons.

NOW FOR THE SHOW:

-We open with U2 premiering a new song. Since we don’t know the words, they put them on a big video screen behind them so the audience could sing along. Don’t worry, it’s easier than it sounds, since the new song has the same melody as R.E.M.’s “It’s The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”. Except this song is way better, cause it has lines like “I got gasoline / You got a submarine / I don’t want to talk about wars between nations”. He’s lying, he totally does. Also, when Bono began to move we were concerned that he had been in an accident. Turns out that’s just how Bono dances now.

-It’s worth noting that tonight the writers packed everyone full of set-killing jokes than brought everything to grinding halt. Dwayne Johnson (not The Rock) makes a joke in an opening monologue about how Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters is going to be drumming for Paul McCartney tonight, and how he cannot wait to see “The Beatle Fighters”. You know it’s bad when you sigh in relief during the ad breaks, watching previews for this week’s “The New Adventures of Old Christine”, where her foot gets stuck in a toilet! Now that’s comedy.

-We thought it couldn’t get quieter than that, but just afterwards Justin Timberlake introduces Al Green. He doesn’t just introduce him; he tells some stories about their hometown and how they shared a general store, which “was really general. I mean it. Just, random… you know… bait and tackle and gas… general store. Get it?” It was awkward for the crickets. He proceeded to duet with Al Green, who showed his appreciation by making several decent attempts with his hand gestures at knocking Timberlake off-stage.

-Carrie Underwood opted not wear a dress, because she apparently found a discount on drapes. Luckily, her Bedazzler pimped microphone distracted everyone from what she was wearing.

-Kid Rock’s “Rock n Roll Jesus” opens with a line about how sad it is that children are starving and soldiers are dying. Then the video screen behind him shows American flags juxtaposed with Kid Rock’s mug shot from his Oct 2007 arrest stemming from a disturbance at a Waffle House. He proceeded to sing “Amen” a lot. I…. what image is he trying to…. Once again, stunned. But it was good to see Kid Rock is still alive. I hadn’t heard a peep since his last music video where he wiped his ass with toilet paper that had the word “Radiohead” printed on every ply, thereby establishing himself as the dominant artist. Or a Jesus of Rock n Roll. Or whatever, who cares?

-Taylor Swift and Miley Cirus duet about how when you’re fifteen and a boy says he loves you, sometimes you believe him and give him everything. Taylor performs like a human being. Miley performs like Liza Minnelli, giving burst of unmotivated emotion and focusing her attention on random points in the room. It’s distracting, to say the least.

-John Mayer is sitting next to Ice Cube. I want to write a buddy cop movie for them sooooo badly.

-The Four Tops perform with guests Jamie Foxx, Smokey Robinson, and Ne-Yo. Okay, so the only Top left is Abdul (Duke) Fakir. It’s really good and Levi Stubbs will be missed, especially in future “Little Shop of Horrors” revivals.

-Stevie Wonder performs with the Jonas Brothers. I cannot imagine how frightening it must have been for Stevie, because those three brothers took turns sneaking up behind him and getting really close before shouting or almost hitting him with an instrument or inappropriately dancing on him. It just seemed wrong. And uncomfortable. And wrong.

-Blink 182 walked out and said that the reunion of Stevie Wonder and the Jonas Brothers inspired them to reunite Blink 182, and they’d be going on tour soon. There are, conceivably, audiences somewhere in the world who would’ve found this exciting. They were not in attendance at the Grammy Awards tonight. No applause.

-Coldplay won two awards. They wore stupid knock-off costumes from Sgt. Peppers. At their first award they used their speech to thank Paul McCartney for letting them rip off Sgt. Peppers. At their second award, they said they were thrilled to have so many awards, but they obviously didn’t have as many as Paul McCartney. I don’t know if Coldplay is aware, but Paul McCartney is not going to sleep with them.

-Coldplay performed two songs, which managed to stir almost no emotional reaction from the crowd. Maybe selecting the song where no one in the band plays an instrument while a pre-recorded orchestra performs wasn’t a great choice. Maybe Chris Martin shouldn’t have tried to compensate by dancing around stage like he was channeling a combination of Bozo the Clown and Bono the Guy Who Dances Like He’s Injured.

-Shortly after, Radiohead performed. Chris Martin’s wife Gwyneth Paltrow introduced them as the most influential band in the world. She’s not a musician, she doesn’t have a movie coming out… Someone decided the funniest thing they could do was force Gwyneth to awkwardly introduce her husband’s biggest rivals and compliment them in a way that belittles her husband. I was shocked they didn’t make her throw in something about how Thom Yorke of Radiohead was “the greatest lay in the U.K.”, but there’s always next year. Anyway, only 2/5 of Radiohead actually performed, along with the USC marching band. They performed “15 Step” and it was hauntingly good, demolishing all other performances that night.

-Except of course, for M.I.A., who performed on stage with a coalition of big name rap stars. This was notable, because M.I.A. is pregnant and was scheduled to deliver her child today. So to watch her rap and then dance back and forth across the stage, knowing that at any moment the bass frequency from the subwoofers might cause her water to break… ya, it was super punk-rawk.

-Robert Plant and Alison Krauss won album of the year. Yawn. Whatever.

BEST PART OF THE NIGHT:

-Dave Grohl plays drums for Paul McCartney on “I Saw Her Standing There”. We sat with baited breath, waiting to see if Grohl could live up to Ringo’s high standard. Lo and behold, he did. Victory!

SPECIAL SIDE NOTE:

-Singer Chris Brown and girlfriend Rihanna were both scheduled to perform. Neither made it to the ceremony, since earlier Brown attacked Rihanna, leaving her with visible facial bruising and bite marks (?) on her arms. He was arrested, then released on $50k bail at 9pm tonight. Can the two of them live up to Amy Winehouse’s high standard? Victory!

Did you hear the tirade by Christian Bale? Apparently the director of photography had the audacity to cross his precious sight line during a scene from that actor-challenging TERMINATOR sequel and Bale went postal on the guy. Hear it here. Warning: The F word is uttered at least a thousand times in three minutes.

Of course what followed was the obligatory public apology. And soon we’ll see more damage control. He’ll guest on Ellen and bake a pie. He’ll join the Jonas Brothers on stage and sing “What I Go to School For”.

He’ll be charming and witty and self-deprecating. He’ll tell Oprah a heartbreaking story of going to a children’s hospital… or at least knowing someone who did who relayed the story. And all I can say is…

DON’T YOU BELIEVE IT.

When an actor becomes an absolute monster, lashing out (usually at defenseless underlings) that’s because he IS a monster.

William Goldman once wrote that from the minute stars get up in the morning until the minute they go to sleep no one says ‘no’ to them. Imagine living your life like that. Everything you want some toady gets for you. You’re allowed to be a complete flaming asshole. All because Batman sold a lot of tickets.

And for every Christian Bale shit fit that hits the internet, there must be ten other out-of-control actor outbursts that don’t. This is not to say that every star is a nightmare. Some handle their fame with grace and humanity. But there are enough of these childish temper tantrums from spoiled inbred poodles to keep directors and producers and writers and directors of photography popping Lexipro like Pez tablets.

Whenever my writing partner, David and I have a pilot starring a star we sit them down and give the following speech: “We’re thrilled to be working with you, we will kill ourselves to make this the best possible show, one that you can be enormously proud of. We will work late nights, weekends, whatever it takes. But if you turn into a monster we’re in Hawaii.”

Today’s post is coming to you from Wailea, Maui.

Update: A commenter wondered if I’m here because of a recent incident with a obnoxious star. No. I’m here on vacation. But let this be a message to all unruly stars — I mean business!

Alex Rodriguez, you took steroids? Ohmygod! I’m still reeling from Rock Hudson being gay. His kisses with Doris Day seemed so real. And those Most Valuable Player Awards you won in Texas, Alex — those should have gone to fellow teammate Donnie Sadler?

Don’t think it’s a stretch that I’m comparing you to Hollywood heartthrob, Rock Hudson. You’re both performers. And you both have strong ties with sports. You’re a professional baseball player. Mr. Hudson was involved in a prostitution scandal involving members of the 1962 University of Kentucky football team.

You both were the subjects of some bizarre relationship rumors. Rock Hudson, urban legend has it, married Jim Nabors (the hunk who played Gomer Pyle). And you’re dating Madonna.

Speaking of which, I now have to wonder, do you need performance-enhancing drugs to satisfy her too? (Although no one would fault you for that one.)

Your organization said they would support you – something about your being part of the Yankees “family” (and them still owing you $270 million they can’t get out of, despite looking into it). Hollywood, likewise, rallied around Mr. Hudson. Modern Screen Magazine did not take back his “Most Popular Actor of 1954” award. He was allowed to continue his craft, albeit now on television. McMillan & Wife, starring he and Susan St. James, became a long running series, their only disagreement being who should play the wife? It is doubtful that the Yankees would farm you out to the Charleston Riverdogs. Again, it’s that family member and quarter-billion-dollar investment thing.

But I will say this: Rock Hudson’s fans were crushed — not to mention Elizabeth Taylor (“At least when Eddie Fisher kisses me he’s not picturing Tab Hunter!”). And Alex, your fans will be shocked and deeply saddened – even the seven who never suspected this in the first place.

And you lied to America’s most respected journalist (and sweetheart), Katie Couric – not easy to do when that pit-bull just keeps pounding you and pounding you. Rock Hudson never actually lied. He just happened to frequent bath houses that didn’t appeal to women.

But you admitted your mistake. That took courage (and a leak from the union). And as you said on Monday’s ESPN interview with relentless muckraker, Peter Gammon (with coaching from your agent/humanitarian, Scott Boras), “the truth will set you free.” You claim that since 2004 (the year penalties were first implemented) you had a change of conscience and you’ve been clean. And this time we don’t have to just take your word. You graciously have provided us proof with your atrocious playoff numbers. So that’s a good start. Will the baseball world ever forgive you? Will your accomplishments on the field be forever diminished? Will Red Sox fans ever stop laughing? Time will tell, but for now, Alex, just hang in there. Send Katie an apology. And if you really believe the truth will set you free, you might want to take another cue from Rock Hudson. Come out of the closet.

I’m doing my Friday question post a day early this week because tomorrow I want to do a Valentine’s Day related post (which happens to also be my birthday – thanks in advance for the presents).

Anonymous asks this after Tuesday’s post about Christian Bale:

Who are some of the stars that you have worked with who WEREN’T monsters? The ones filled with grace and dignity? Would love to see that list.

I’ve been incredibly blessed. It’s a long long list. And it’s not complete. I apologize to those other actors I’ve worked with who also deserve to be in this rollcall but whose names have just slipped my mind. I’m too lazy to alphabetize them so here they are in no particular order. My point is that there are many decent actors. There are ways of getting what you want without being a monster. If you’re in the industry and have had occasion to work with actors who were menches please share who they are.

Ted Danson
Tom Hanks
Rita Wilson
John Candy
Michael Douglas
Nancy Travis
Alan Alda
Mike Ferrell
Harvey Firestein
Emma Thompson
Harry Connick Jr.
Harry Morgan
Shelley Long
Rhea Perlman
Nick Collasanto
Woody Harrelson
George Wendt
John Ratzenberger
Kirstie Alley
Kelsey Grammer
Steven Webber
Tony Shaloub
Tim Daly
Julie Benz
Crystal Bernard
Amy Yasbech
Adam Arkin
Jane Kaczmarek
Malcolm McDowell
Kurtwood Smith
Kevin Kilner
David Morse
Patrick Breen
Ed Asner
Jennifer Tilly
Wendie Malick
George Segal
David Hyde Pierce
Jon Tenney
Peri Gilpen
Laura Linney
Aaron Eckhart
John Mahoney
Jane Leeves
Patricia Heaton
Ray Romano
Doris Roberts
Peter Boyle
Brad Garrett
Tracey Ullman
Julie Kavner
Dan Castellaneta
Neil Patrick Harris
Yeardly Smith
Nancy Cartwright
Hank Azaria
Harry Shearer
Laura San Giacomo
Chip Zien
James Farentino
David Clennon
Matthew Letscher
John Astin
Katey Sagal
Tony Randall
William Christopher
Jaime Farr
Jane Seymour
Lisa Kudrow
Roz Chao
David Ogden Steirs
Alan Arbus
Loretta Swit
Gary Burghoff
Allison Janney
Paget Brewster
Marcia Wallace
Bob Newhart
John Cleese
Lisa Edelstein
David Spade
David Morse
Enrico Colantoni
Al Franken
Megyn Price
Miquel Ferrer
Kristen Chenowith
Robert Forthworth
Sanaa Latham
James Tolkin
Kat Denning
Jenna Elfman
Hattie Winston
Terry Ferrell
Alex Desert
Shawnee Smith
Beth Armstrong
Thomas Gibson
Willie Garsons
William Ragsdale
Sean O’Bryan
Mark Feuerstein
Bess Meyer
Nathan Lane
Joan Plowright
Joel Murray
Jack Coleman
Brenda Vaccarro
Tea Leoni
Gilbert Godfried
Mimi Kennedy
Alan Rachins
Susan Sullivan
Bob Elliott
Steve Landesburg
Victoria Jackson
Jon Lovitz
Rita Rudner
Avery Schreiber
Ryan Mitchell
Maggie Lawson
Harriet Harris
Lenny Clarke
…and Moose (Eddie on FRASIER)

Had the chance to see NIGHTS IN RODANTHE. Not the kind of movie I usually watch but I was trapped on a plane and it stars Diane Lane. Based on the few movies of this weepy… excuse me, “romantic” genre I have been bored enough on long flights to see, I have managed to glean the formula. So if you’re about to write one, follow these easy steps to chick flick success.

Start with an attractive couple. He can be in his 50s, she can be in her 40s but only if she looks like she’s in her 30s.

Opening scene – she catches her husband cheating. Big emotional trauma. He begs forgiveness and vows never to screw any of her sisters again. You must cast a handsome but boring actor who can play weak.

She needs time to think.

She goes to a picturesque setting like Tuscany or a charming bed & breakfast by the sea. A few scenes of her shopping for vegetables and arranging flowers in her room. A best friend advises she’s got to loosen up, live a little, and of course she finds that out of the question. Better to window shop for clocks to keep track of your youth slipping away.

She meets a man. Handsome but with baggage. Widower, never married, or wife went nuts and became a Scientologist. Now you write 20 pages of exposition — she must be artistically inclined, he’s misunderstood, and they’re both mourning a dead relative who meant so much to them. This is the “getting to know you” section. Have them bumping into each other at cafes, him helping her lift firewood, sharing a love for Dinah Washington, laughing over something incredibly lame like her plastic fork breaks.

During this section do not concern yourself with the fact that the audience knows exactly where this is going. Toss in a scene where they argue about something as a mislead but don’t dwell on it because no one’s buying it.

A big cinematic event must now take place. Hurricanes are good. Cossacks if your film has a more historical bent. Danger! Danger! Something brings them together and they kiss. Music swells. You’re halfway home.

Now comes the “happy-in-love” section. Scenes in the sack, natch. But don’t forget the walks along the beach hand in hand as they gaze mooney-eyed at each other.

They must go to the inevitable local festival. Here they dance, they laugh, they eat local delicacies. Whole new worlds are opening up for this crazy couple. She’s having fun for the first time in ages. They go off and kiss in the moonlight. Return to the sack.

Then the post coital glow scene. Still in bed, cuddling, making plans that will never come true because the audience hasn’t cried enough yet.

Here’s where it gets murky. Now you must create some bogus issue to split them up. Something to snap them back into reality. Here’s where kids come in very handy. One goes to the hospital. Mom wasn’t there. Guilt! Guilt! (preferred dialogue: She: “What am I doing? I can’t just run off and do this.” He: “Hey, you’re entitled to your own happiness.”) Other love buzz kills – he has to fly to Peru, her kids want daddy back, he still has feelings for Sarah Palin.

This is followed by the separation sequence. Long solitary walks along the beach (with close ups of the waves crashing of course), wandering through the quaint town, not stopping to watch the village idiot wiggle his ears for money.

Lean heavy on voice overs. They can always exchange letters. No line is too cloying, no thought too overwrought. “When I met you it was like I stepped out of a dream.” “You’ve given me the courage to love.” I’m sure you can find something a little more heavy-handed, but that’s the general idea.

Now it’s time for one of them to die. This chestnut has been a staple since LOVE STORY. The survivor now has at least five scenes of crying, remembering the good times (flashbacks required), moping, not eating or sleeping, and of course Dinah Washington wailing some heart tugging dirge. You might cap this with another voice over – the last letter is always the knockout punch. Lay it on thick here. “I’m counting the hours until we can start our life together”.

There won’t be a dry seat in the house.

But finally time passes, the children and friends rally around, the survivor realizes that he or she became a much better, more understanding, compassionate, enlightened, and sympathetic person as a result of the now-corpse. Her art is better, he sees Sarah Palin for who she is. So let the healing begin. Reprise a song from the festival, a shared moment, the coming of spring. Something to elicit a smile. Once you get to that smile, you’re done. Slap a confusing title like NIGHTS IN RODANTHE (what the hell does that even mean?) on it and you’re ready to see what Diane Lane and Richard Gere have on their plates for the fall.

Now you may think I’m a cynic. I’m not. I love a good romance. Just not one by the numbers. But those are what sells. So get busy. We’re running out of charming little towns. You don’t want to be stuck with Pismo Beach.

Happy Valentine’s Day.