Edmonton!

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada is north of an imaginary line, above which human beings should not live. I worked there the week before Christmas, at the largest mall in the world, trying to find an empty table at the world's busiest food court, and telling jokes to Christmas parties full of festive nice people celebrating Christmastime, and drunken morons celebrating the ice road truckers that drove the booze up that far. The photo above isn't noteworthy except for the guys ahead of me. Folks, it was 37 below zero. Those guys were not dressed for the weather. A hoodie and a T-shirt? Wow. After taking this photo I ran into the "Fantasy Grill" and fantasized that I was eating in a city that was warm. 

Relient K!

What a blast I had on The Tonight Show with the band Relient K the other night - replaying this Christmas night, so check it out! - They emailed me and invited me to play with them on Jay's show, and it was one of the highlights of my life as a performer. We got to the studio early to rehearse, and it was great to have lunch with a bunch of great guys who are tremendous musicians, and I was thrilled just to be able to keep up with them on the guitar. I'm getting emails from all over asking if that was me playing with Relient K from confused people who don't really get it. Well, I get it, Relient K gets it, and a very Merry Christmas to everyone!

Brotherly Love

Just back from Philadelphia, home of the world champion Phillies, the American flag, and lots of people who came to my shows last weekend at the Helium Club. It's always fun to perform in Philadelphia, and before the shows I always take a walk downtown and reminisce through the mist of memory and subway grates. That building is the Union League, on Broad Street, where my Dad used to take my brothers and I to Father-Son dinners a long, long time ago. I met Daniel Moynihan there when he was the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, before becoming the Democratic senator from New York who championed Democratic ideas like the partial privatization of Social Security, and the illegalization of partial birth abortion. Huh? Yeah, that's him. They also had a dinner there with "Big Daddy" Don Garlits, the drag racer, who gave us drag racing Hot Wheels cars. "Big Daddy" made a bigger splash than ambassador Moynihan, but still, it was a great evening with Dad, wearing a suit and tie and pretending I was going to be going to the University of Pennsylvania to study something where you eventually wear a suit and tie all the time.

That plan didn't work out. 

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Thanks.

The objects above are candied yams. The goo between them is made of brown sugar and butter. This is one of the great contributions made by the early settlers to this country - the knowledge that butter and brown sugar make things better, no matter what we're talking about. Potatoes? Yes. Makes them better. Pancakes? Yes. Makes them better. Car trouble? Try a mouthful of these candied yams and you'll forget you have a car. I hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful, and your insulin levels are returning to normal.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Omaha, Nebraska!

I had a great time in Omaha, performing shows to people as they peeled yams and stewed cranberries to get ready for Thanksgiving, occasionally looking up to smile approvingly and chuckle near the pile of corn husks. I did lots of interviews on Omaha radio stations, but had the best time on the "Todd and Tyler" show, telling stories and having fun. I told a story about Tony Danza punching a guy at the Comedy Store in Hollywood a long time ago, and they got Tony Danza on the phone to confirm it. Apparently, Tony was carousing a bit back then, and the faces and places of punched guys have blended into a collage of wonderful memories for him. I was able to confirm it for him, because I was there. "Who's the Boss?" You, Tony. You're the boss. Anybody who goes from punching guys in nightclubs to hosting a daytime talk show where you tap dance and play the trumpet really badly deserves a lot of respect. Way to go!

Love from Wilson World,

Tom 

Columbus, Ohio!

Columbus is a great town, and some people even wear clothing that isn't red with an Ohio State logo on it. Not many, though. The shows were terrific, all sellouts, so thanks to everybody who came out, and special thanks to everybody who kept yelling "O-H!" at me. I didn't know what it meant, maybe Ohio hecklers like to spell things out or something. Then some waitresses told me that when people yell "O-H!" I'm supposed to yell back "I-O!" Out there it takes two people to spell Ohio. And then you do it over and over until somebody gives you beer or something. They should start that thing in Pennsylvania. The next time I'm back there, I'm going to keep yelling "P-E!" just to see if anybody answers "N-N-S-Y-L-V-A-N-I-A!! Whoo!"

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Go Phillies!

I flew out of Philadelphia International airport today, only a few hours before the Phillies won the World Series and the place went berserk. I lived in Philadelphia in 1980 when the Phillies last won the Series, and late that night so long ago, a group of friends walked downtown to witness the Championship frenzy, including a bunch of happy anarchists who overturned the big truck delivering newspapers, creating an improvised ticker-tape parade of newsprint flying through the brisk October air. In honor of that night, and in preparation for this one, before I flew out today I went out with my brother to turn over some police cars and throw beer bottles into groups of unsuspecting pedestrians. Whoo!! Go Phillies! Mike Schmidt! Larry Bowa! Steve Carlton! Ryan Howard! Brad Lidge! Johnny Callison! Cookie Rojas! Okay, I don't think those last two guys won a series, but they were Phillies, so go them!!!

Love from Wilson World,

Tom 

Avant-Bored

I went to an art show recently, and this was the star of the show, under spotlights and on a pedestal in the center of the room. A wheelchair that's actually a bed of nails, with a blood red cross in the middle of it. Get it? Wheelchair? Nails? Cross? The funny thing is that some young artist actually thinks it's a statement, and not the echo of ten thousand other boring art pieces that use Christian imagery as a punching bag for the unimaginative. Oh, if only one of these sad clowns could paint, or draw, or play the kazoo, or come up with an original idea... 

Phoenix!

What an interesting time I had in Phoenix! I went to a coffee house concert, and watched some singer/songwriters angrily wail about America, and pain, and the horrible people in America who cause all the pain (none of them were in the room, I guess they were talking about "other" people). They were bathed clean, with fresh clothing and guitars that cost them - or the parents they ridicule in their songs - a couple of thousand dollars, while behind them were some paintings that condensed the evening more than any song about how messed up their family is, or America. A child, snide and petulant with a crash helmet, next to the only hope we seem to have - a colorful, yet phony superhero.

I'm working on my singer/songwriter album right now. "The Mirror Into Which I Look" is what I'm thinking about calling it. I'll take the cover photo as soon as I can find some good train tracks near my house. Some songs I'm really excited about:

1) Thanks for the guitar, Dad, you capitalist pig

2) There is no "I" in team, so I'm not on one

3) Blah Blah Blah, when do I get to talk?

4) Sunshine on my shoulders makes my black leather jacket hot

5) Aren't they stupid? (not us)

Love from Wilson World,

Tom 

Dallas!

I had a great time at the Improv last week, and took this photo of a grandpa showing his little boy some shiny cars in a restaurant parking lot. My grandpa had a shiny car, an old Cadillac that he polished to a perfect sheen, using Q-tips for the difficult edges and chrome. He was quite a character. An early memory I have is when our next door neighbor put a fence around his yard and I put my foot on it. The guy told me to get off his fence, and my grandfather stepped over the fence, took out a huge wad of cash and waved it in his face, swearing that if he ever talked to his grandson like that again he was going to put him in the hospital and pay the bill.

Hooray for grandfathers! And one day maybe we'll have universal health care, so we can punch jerks in the face without worrying about hospital bills!

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Sad Clown

This sad clown painting is clearly depicting a sad clown/bodybuilder who is sad that the circus announced random drug testing for steroids. Check out those shoulders! The "sad clown" is as tired a theme as there is, and comedians are always asked questions based on the assumption that they must be insane and filled with stifled anguish to want to get onstage and make people laugh. After all, to do that you must be crazy and sad, right?

I'm going to start a series of paintings featuring happy accountants. 

Third Day!

I met the members of the band "Third Day" a while ago, and they're great guys who've always given us a warm welcome to their fabulous shows. Last night we went to see them in a giant amphitheater, along with Switchfoot, Jars of Clay, and the incredible Robert Randolph and his Family Band. It was an amazing concert, and we had a great time, singing and dancing and adjusting our protective earplugs, since we were in the tenth row and every beat of the drum actually felt like a CPR heart massage.

Thanks to Dave, Nathan, Mac, and all the really fabulous guys from Third Day for  wonderful night, and if you haven't heard of him, go find Robert Randolph and His Family Band on itunes. Whoop-dee-do that's good stuff.

Song of the Lark

This painting, "The Song of the Lark" is so beautiful that the great novelist Willa Cather wrote a book inspired by this farm girl singing a song at sunset. It hangs in a little corner of the museum, dwarfed by giant paintings of mythic figures and rich snobs, quietly supreme in its peaceful subtlety. Of course, if this farm girl lived today, her friends would convince her to wear a glittery halter top and audition for 'American Idol." 

Maybe it's better to stand in a field and sing a song to yourself as a bird flies overhead at sunset. 

Paintings matter

More from the Art Institute of Chicago. In the middle of so many old portraits of "Commander Josiah Smithensmythe and his dog," was a gorgeous painting called "The Captive Slave." Painted in 1827, the colors remain vibrant, and the subject remains anguished. Only paintings can do that bit of breathtaking magic - take us back for a moment to 1827 and into the mind of the man who sat to have this painting made. There were far more people gazing thoughtfully into this man's haunted face than any other expensive portrait of another snob with his children and gloves.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Summer requiem

I just finished an episode of "Ghost Whisperer" as a fireman delivering a eulogy at a funeral, and boy is my ectoplasm emitting an aura calling out to be led to the light by the very photogenic. Yeah, I don't know what that means either.  Off the plane from Chicago and onto the set, I ran out to Malibu at sunset to meet my boogie-boarding family and bid adieu to a beautiful summer. Lots of travel and many hot shows, but we had a great time, and I look forward to many more amidst chilly winds and afternoon football games, until we start eating candy corn and that radio station finally goes to "All Christmas Music ALL THE TIME!"

Okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. 

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Chicago!

Just got back from Chicago, where the weather was hot, but a wet heat, so you hardly feel it. The shows were steamy and great, but the highlight of the trip was my visit to the Art Institute of Chicago, where I ogled hundreds and hundreds of masterpieces, thrilled to see so many historic works of art I'd previously only seen in books. After an afternoon at the museum I did what I always do when the press interviews are finished and I have a couple of hours before showtime - I find a local restaurant and eat very much like the man above, from the Edward Hopper painting "Nighthawks." 

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Dodgervision

We went to see the Dodgers play the Phillies, and after an inning and a half the Dodgers were losing six to one. That's when you do things like eat hot dogs and take photos of the field through the wrong end of the binoculars. As you can see in the photo, Manny Ramirez is in left field. The Dodgers then fought their way back and won it with a game winning home run by soccer Olympian Mia Hamm's husband. (I'm trying to keep the Olympic spirit going) Go USA! Go Olympics! Go fair judging! 

Note to Michael Phelps: Mark Spitz did it with a 'stache. And a cool "Stars and Stripes" Speedo, which everyone bought immediately, including me, to swim way faster at the Upper Main Line YMCA pool. In the water, I am a graceful bolt of lightning.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom 

Gentle reminder

My daughter teaches autistic teenagers, and had a "talent night" recently, where there was reading, and singing, and all sorts of joyful stuff. I read the banner on the classroom wall and thought about how many adults out there need to read it and calm down.

...Including me.

People. We are well balanced individuals. Take it easy.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

They're Fuschia

The scene: Denver Airport Croc store.

Tom: Do you have these in Men's XXL?

Lady: (six second pause)  ...pink?

Tom: It's fuschia. That's what the tag says.

Lady: You want pink?

Tom: Fuschia. Do you have them in Men's XXL?

Lady: (four second pause) Let me look.

She did. As my daughter said - "You're the only guy I know who can pull off pink Crocs."

I love them. You got a problem with that? I didn't think so.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Des Moines, Iowa!

Iowa offers so much to the curious traveler: Sweet corn, a brand new shopping mall, and tornado warnings as weather races across the country faster than you can say "Corn and a mall?"

I had a great week in Des Moines, and thanks to everyone who made it great. Here's Iowa in a nutshell: I was a guest on KGGO radio two mornings in a row, and told them that I had never had Iowa sweet corn on the cob. Heather from the station came out to the club on Saturday night to bring me six ears of corn, cooked to perfection, just to make sure I tasted the best corn on earth. Iowa corn. I ate three ears of delicious corn, and put the rest in my back pocket to hand out during my show, not realizing how uncomfortable it is to hold three hot ears of corn in your back pocket while doing a show. I brought out the corn later in the show expecting a surprised laugh, and only got smiles of recognition. Of course! Who doesn't go around with a few hot ears of corn in their back pocket? It's Iowa!

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Discount!

"Mom? Mom, are you awake? This is Chico, Mom. He's going to be caring for you! Oh, those guys? Those are Chico's homeboys. They heard you had digital cable! Mom, do you still have that coupon? You know, that coupon for the two-for-one sponge bath? Where's the coupon, Mom? And where's the remote? The homeboys want to watch "Ultimate Fighting!" Mom? Mom?!"

Ocean City, New Jersey

We went into this place for some food, but there was too much trash on the floor, so we left.

Okay, I tried that lame joke with my family on the boardwalk. Score: one laugh, two groans, and the rest ignored me and kept walking toward the rides.

Comedy. Some fly, some die.

Valley Forge, Pennsylvania

Back from a week in my hometown, the cradle of liberty and home of cheesesteaks, the Phillies, and Jack Klugman. Is that a trifecta of winners or what? It was a fabulous week, with a tough Phillies loss to the Mets at the stadium that overlooks New Jersey, a family meal in the middle of the Reading Terminal market downtown, and many drives through the golden fields of Valley Forge National Park, where deer and foxes roam amidst the hiking scouts, and statues of George Washington outnumber mountain bikers with those water bottle backpacks that make it look like they have a straw sticking out of their neck.

I grew up in a beautiful part of the country, and it's always nice to be reminded of it, as corn grows "knee high by the fourth of july" out on Amish farms worked by teams of horses, and you're still a couple of hours away from Ocean City, New Jersey, where we ate waffles and ice cream in a warm summer rain. 

Happy summer to you, the Amish, and Jack Klugman.

Love from Wilson World,

Tom

Fort Lauderdale!

Just back from the Seminole Hard Rock Casino Improv, where the shows were great, and I spent my free time trying to figure out exactly which culture the casino hotel was embracing, the casino culture with old people chain smoking in front of slot machines, the Seminole culture with a native American museum featuring alligator wrestling, or the Hard Rock culture with a pair of drumsticks used by Starland Vocal Band for the song "Afternoon Delight" hanging on the wall. A strange merchandising melting pot, with blackjack tables, a Jamaican steel drum band, and lots and lots of people tooling around in electric scooters. My hotel room was decorated with a giant black and white photo of Elton John dressed as a sequined Statue of Liberty. I wish that was a joke. I ate a chicken caesar salad under a framed pair of wristbands worn by some guy in Whitesnake. I wish that was a joke. I met a young lady on leave from Iraq who told me that the press is ignoring the unbelievable work that the men and women of the Armed Forces of the United States are doing for the people there, and how proud she is of that work, and how she's going back in a week or so to finish her tour. She came to the show, I pointed her out in the audience, and she got a long, cheering standing ovation from the crowd at the Improv. That's no joke.

Happy fourth of July.

The Tribe of Cleveland

Just back from Cleveland, where pitcher C.C. Sabbathia beat future Hall of Famer Greg Maddux right before my eyes, as the Indians beat the Padres 7-3 on Father's Day. They don't call the stadium in Cleveland "The Jake" anymore, since corporations can now buy the names to things and make everyone say the corporation's name over and over. And as everybody knows, if you see a company's name over and over, you'll probably get hypnotized and buy their stuff. Sometimes, before I go to the mall, I just watch some NASCAR for shopping ideas. "mustbuyenergydrinks, mustbuyenergydrinks,

mustbuyshaniatwainalbums, mustbuychewingtobacco...."

I'm glad L.A. is sticking with "Dodger Stadium," since "Welcome to Danny Bonaduce field at Indiana Jones and the Quartz Armadillo coming soon to a theatre near you stadium!" would be a real pain for the public address announcer.

Thanks to everybody in Cleveland, and congratulations on deciding on the new official city flower - the orange cones that are strewn all over downtown! And thanks to Robin Swoboda, the greatest morning show hostess in the English speaking world. She interviewed me on her morning T.V. show, and we had a lot of fun. The segment right after mine featured "Mr. Hot Dog," who demonstrated all the various ways of preparing a gourmet hot dog. His ideas included:

1) mustard (apparently there are different varieties)

2) relish (apparently there are different varieties)

3) sauerkraut (apparently there is one variety)

And that was it. I jumped on camera as "Sargeant Sausage," and spiced up the segment with improvised hot dog humor. I await my Emmy nomination.

Mom liked him best

I'm finishing up the filming of "The Informant," and it's been terrific acting with Matt Damon - a great, funny guy and a tremendous actor - and an amazing cast, with the highlight for me being spending a day with Tom Smothers. We talked show biz, and guitars, and all sorts of things as I tried to keep from giggling like a fourth grader. "I'm talking with Tom Smothers!! Whoo!!" Tom was such a gracious person, and an incurable showman. At the end of lunch, there were a hundred or so background artists finishing their meal, and all Tom saw was a willing audience. He put on a show, telling jokes and doing YoYo tricks for everybody, to a standing ovation. It was one of those days that made everybody so happy to be in show biz. There is certainly no business like show business, like no business I know.

I must add, I don't think that EVERYTHING about is appealing. But yesterday was very good.

tuppence a bag

The kids found a hummingbird, trying to fly with damaged wings and stuck in a bush, after what looked like a fight to the finish with one of the cats that hang around outside. Dizzy and totally freaked out, the tiny guy looked like he might not make it, but he became a Memorial Day weekend project. We had some hummingbird food and fed it to him from a spoon, and he ate like a linebacker, regaining his wits and his strength, sitting on a tree branch for quite a while before he finally took off, ready for another go at life. Ha. In your face, cat.
May we all spend this weekend regaining strength, sipping sugar water, sitting on a branch for a while, and getting ready to go out there and fight the next cat.

Standup Stonehenge

The Improv in Hollywood is still the foundation of what has become the standup comedy industry, and performing there is always like going to comedy Stonehenge, walking among the tables and muttering in awe "Andy Kaufman yelled at me while wearing a fake beard, denying he was Andy Kaufman right over there!" "Jay Leno used to park his motorcycle right there, smoking a pipe at the bar when it was legal!" "Robin Williams stole another bit that I did standing right here!" Thanks to everybody at the Improv, as always, for the warm welcome and a great weekend.
No, the painting has nothing to do with the Improv. I just finished it and thought I would put it up here. It looks better than the piece of wall at the Improv that Robin Williams leaned on when he watched my show ever so carefully.

Decatur, Illinois!

I just returned from Decatur, where we're filming a movie called "The Informant." Steven Soderbergh is directing it, and Matt Damon is in it, and I think that what the studio is doing is they've decided to promote the Steven Soderbergh/Matt Damon thing in a much more prominent way than they're promoting me being in it. Okay, whatever. I guess somebody just doesn't look at blogs... but they're nice guys and we're having a good time.
Decatur is farmland. Flat flatty flat flat, with corn, soybeans, and a few trees planted around farmhouses to block the wind. And what country house would be complete without a cement deer out in front? My Dad loved this stuff, but since we lived in the city and didn't have room for deer, he put a cement dog in front of our house. Brown and white paint with a couple of black spots sprayed on, until the rain finally washed off the paint and the cement started to crack. He loved that dog, though, and wouldn't get rid of it even when the tail became a dangerous re-bar spike jutting out of the lump of plaster that we had to avoid while playing wiffle ball or someone might get impaled by a decorative beagle. We finally moved out of the city to the suburbs, and a bigger lawn. What did Dad do? He went out and got a brand new dog, a clone of the original. Even when he had room for a deer, Dad decided that loyalty to a cement dog trumped the antlers of the nouveau riche.

Duet

Is there anything more beautiful than a mother and daughter playing music together? Sight and sound, emotion and thrill, passion and history, warmth and love. It's very deep music, with far more to it than what we can hear. It made for a beautiful afternoon, and one day I look forward to a duet with my son. I'll hum into a comb and waxed paper, and he can bang on a coffee can. Sure, a little different than two talented pianists, but we'll have pizza afterward, which will almost make up for the lack of musical chops. I just got back from Detroit and a weekend of fun shows. The highlight of the trip was a wonderful time with an old friend, walking together and having a cheeseburger for lunch, which almost made up for the lack of musical chops.

Squadron

A while ago, I wrote about losing a lot of my paintings when the Riley Arts Gallery in Manhattan Beach was completely destroyed in a fire. It was hard to lose so much work, and for a while I've been spinning my wheels, staring at blank canvases, starting a few paintings only to scrape them off or leave them half finished to paint over with white and start a different painting later. But I'm happy with this painting. It's about finished, and is 54x54". "Squadron" is its title, and before I sell it I think I'll hang it up in the house and look at it for a while.

Dayton, Ohio!

Dayton is one of those great American cities with an inferiority complex. The people are great, the shows are fun, but it seems that after every one, this is a common conversation:
"Loved the show, Tom! What do you think of Dayton?"
"Dayton is great! Lots of nice people!"
"What are you, crazy? I can't wait to get out of this boring hell hole!"
"...Uh...okay, well, thanks for coming!"
The comedy club is situated in the middle of one of those art directed shopping villages, a little fake town with lots of windows full of mock turtlenecks, smelly candles, and security cameras. My favorite selection was "peace" necklaces hanging next to the pocket sized cans of mace.
The weather has been cold and grey, so I'm using a photo of my wife's roses from Easter. Pretend it's Dayton. And you're happily shopping for candles and mace.

Raleigh, North Carolina!

Just back from North Carolina and had a fabulous time with friends, one of whom is the Assistant Attorney General of North Carolina. Unfortunately, I didn't get any traffic tickets or entangled in a huge zoning battle while I was there, so I didn't get to use my powerful connections at all. They took me to "Cooper's" for some great "Eastern North Carolina" barbecue (there is a difference), and we had a wonderful time, hanging out and enjoying the first hints of spring on a perfect day. In Raleigh they have this cart at the hotel that serves free shampoo, soap, and pens, too. There was a broom and some dirty towels on it, but I didn't want any of them. As far as shampoo in tiny bottles, though? I'm taken care of.

William F. Buckley, R.I.P.

My father was a lawyer who enjoyed coffee, smoking, and watching televised debates while screaming at the T.V. He was a smart guy, and did things like calling the White House to comment on the President's recent speeches, and writing letters to many national figures who had recently appeared on a television program he was screaming at. My earliest memories include sitting next to him watching William F. Buckley's program "Firing Line," as he guzzled coffee and I stared at the guys on T.V., trying to figure out the big words they were using, especially the guy with the clipboard. The thing was, the guy with the clipboard, William F. Buckley, seemed to be having a good time arguing with people, seemed to be friendly with the people he disagreed with so strongly, and seemed to be incredibly confident that he was right. I remember a conversation with a radio talk show host between my Dad and a tired radio hack, when my Dad brought up a point, giving credit to Mr. Buckley for it, and the host called my Dad a snob and hung up on him without listening to the point. That's when I started reading Mr. Buckley's work, a staggering number of books, including wonderful books on sailing, published journals of his massive creative output, and my favorite, a book simply titled "Nearer, my God." I heard about his death today on ABC radio, and in memory of Mr. Buckley on the day of his death, they played the audio of a debate in which Gore Vidal called him a "crypto-nazi." Some things never change.

May he rest in peace...after my Dad talks to him for a while over coffee.

Guitar Hero

Michael John Poirier is a dear friend of mine, and travels the country in an R.V. with his wife and children, singing and playing the guitar at churches and schools everywhere you can possibly imagine. When he's in Los Angeles, he stops by for a brief visit, and this one was ridiculously short, as we took out our guitars, played them together for a brief moment, and waved goodbye as he bolted out the door, off to the next concert. If you ever get the chance to see him, don't pass it up. Knowing Michael, he might be singing for two truckers and a waitress at a gas station somewhere, with all of them crying and hugging each other, so keep your eyes peeled. One day, maybe we'll have more time to play together. I know three chords, so it probably won't take up that much time.

Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! Whenever I think of Valentine's Day, I always think of this episode of "Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea," with Robert Duvall in it. Well, not every Valentine's Day, but this was on T.V. the other night, so I had to come up with a way to introduce it in the blog. I worked with Bobby Duvall in the cinematic masterpiece "Let's Get Harry," where he played a grizzled mercenary, helping some guys rescue Harry from drug smuggling terrorists. In "Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea" he played a robotic alien who takes over a fake submarine full of actors in the early sixties. His performance was tremendous as an inhuman, uncaring being from another planet, though that one must have been easier to play, being so much closer to Bobby in real life and all. Happy Valentine's Day!
Love from Wilson World,
Tom

Benedictine Blizzard

Benedictine College is a beautiful school in Atchison, Kansas, and I just performed a concert there, staying at an abbey full of Benedictine monks and having a ball - in a driving snowstorm! The students came out and packed the place anyway, and it was a great time in the true Benedictine spiritual tradition of stand up comedy and goofing off. I had fish and chips with a dear friend for an Ash Wednesday lunch, and slipped down the frozen streets, trying to find a four wheel drive car to get me to the airport. What a great time with such a huge number of great people. As I told the students there, I tell people I went to Catholic school and they look at me slyly, raising an eyebrow and saying "well...you know what that means! heh-heh" and I say "What, that I'm smarter than you?" Oddly enough, the students at this small Catholic liberal arts college really liked that one.
Oh, and another highlight of the trip? The new issue of "Kansas Monks" magazine. Yes! My subscription was renewed!
Love from Wilson World,
Tom

Reykjavik!

I'm back from London, where I can definitely say I love the United States of America, except for my new love for televised women's professional indoor field hockey! One of the highlights of the trip was staring down at the world from 40,000 feet and seeing a city in the middle of the vast northern Atlantic. Who on earth would live there? Well, lots of people, apparently, including the recently deceased nutty anti-semite chess champion Bobby Fisher. It was Iceland! Then across the frozen tundra of Greenland, Baffin Bay, the Northwest Territories of Canada, which seem to be in the NorthEAST. (?) And then we headed south, miles above my friends in Edmonton, Calgary, and finally

THANK GOD IN HEAVEN

Into American airspace. No wonder so many of them hate us at the same time they want to come here. We rock. Hey, people, it's Superbowl weekend, and I'm guzzling Coca Cola, pretzels, and Lee Greenwood albums.

Kansas City!

It's impossible to have a bad meal in Kansas City because of the beef. They put slabs of Kansas City beef in everything there. Vegetarians in Kansas City have petitioned to have beef considered a sort of thick, juicy cabbage-like product. If you think about it, if you stare at a steer for long enough and they stand really still it can look as though they're growing out of the ground. Don't try to fertilize one, though. I had a wonderful time at the Majestic Theatre there, and everyone was great. The radio and T.V. interviews were plentiful and fun, and I was amazed to find out that I was the final - I mean THE FINAL guest on the historic K.C. rock station KY. They've been on the air for decades, and ... well ... right after my interview - GONE. They were turning off desk lamps and taking down Duran Duran posters as I was talking. Sorry, KY. Now it's going to be one of those disembodied computer stations called "The Boulevard," run by HAL 9000 and Lumberg. (to get the previous reference you had to have seen the movies "2001: A Space Odyssey, AND "Office Space." Sorry.)

Dome and a half

At Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park, the bald guy with binoculars just wouldn't get out of my way. He is now immortalized, forever linked to the majesty of Yosemite Valley and the High Sierra. Congratulations, Morty (real name unknown).

Happy New Year

Thanks to everyone in Chicago for a great bunch of shows, including a New Year's Eve blanketed in snow, a "de-icing" of the plane before take-off, and a sunny 75 degrees upon landing. A great '08 to everyone, at the end of twelve beautiful days of Christmas. At an office a few days ago, a woman very kindly offered me some "Holiday" cookies. She stressed "Holiday" even more than "cookies." It's getting rather absurd.

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style,
in the air there's a feeling of a secular observance of well being!