The Annual Observance of My Nativity


Me, in a three-cornered hat, using the Hollywood Cemetery pyramid
as a megaphone, by my partner-in-art-for-life, Amie Oliver.

I am closer now to 50 which is unsettling me somewhat, but, as Amie consoled me, considering the alternatives, why should I be anxious? I got other serious matters to cause me anxiety other than the implacable roll of my finite chronology. There's an office on Colonial Avenue that needs first to be organized, research that must be undertaken, a new year's schedule to undergo assessment. Plus, David Letterman has grown a beard that makes him resemble Edward Mulhare from the old The Ghost and Mrs. Muir series.

Conan O' Brien also has gone facially hirsute and both comedians have done this as an act of "solidarity" with the striking writers guild. Ah, once upon a time my beard came in red like Conan's, but, alas, as I'm closing in on 50, the beard is now grey and thus giving me more anxiety, as stated.

Soon To Be A Major Motion Picture?

In other news, colleague Chad Anderson forwarded this image of...Brad Pitt, who seems to be costumed and on the set for a secret bio-pic about .... me. Difficult to say at this juncture who is more shocked, but from the right-hand image, I believe it must be Brad. Finally, my fedora wearing has caught on with the Hollywood glitzerati.



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