Clay and Kimmel: iObsessed

(The sound of a phone ringing in the darkness, followed by a loud groan.)

Kimmel (unseen): Somebody...better be...DEAD. (The bedside lamp switches on, and Kimmel squints painfully at the clock and snatches the phone.) HELLO!

Clay (exuberantly): Hey, Jimmy!

Kimmel (pointedly): Well. If it’s isn’t Mr. Eastern Time Zone.

Clay: Oh...sorry! Ah’m jest so excited! Ah’ve bin callin’ everbody Ah know!

Kimmel (wincing): Why? Did Kathy Griffin get kidnapped by aliens? No, wait, don’t tell me -- Perez Hilton died of hair dye poisoning!

Clay (laughs): No! Jimmy, Ah was--

Kimmel: You singlehandedly brought about world peace?

Clay (smugly): Nah. Ah was savin’ that fer next week. Jimmy. (barely able to contain himself) Do Ah sound different?

Kimmel: Different? No, you sound like you’ve been sucking on helium as usual. Why?

Clay: Oh, yore such a kidder. No...Ah jest wondered...well...guess what Ah’m talkin’ ta ya on!

Kimmel (sleepy, impatient): Clay, I don’t know. An orange juice can on a string? A shoe phone? The Psychic Friends Network?

Clay (proudly): Ah’m talkin’ ta ya on mah brand new...iPhone!

Kimmel: That’s all? That’s what you called about? That’s why you woke me up at four in the morning?

Clay: Well...yeah! Jimmy, it’s...so...KEWL! Ah’ve bin sittin’ here all night playin’ with it--it does so many amazin' thangs!

Kimmel (wearily): I could make an analogy here, but I don’t think I will.

Clay: Ah even blogged with it...TWICE.

Kimmel: Really. I hope you rested in between.

Clay: No, Ah didn’t need to!

Kimmel (shrugs): Well, you ARE ten years younger than me.

Clay: Eleven, but who's countin.' So...Ah bin surfin’ the Net, lookin’ at pitchers, listenin’ ta mah songs, gittin’ directions--

Kimmel: Since when do we guys ask for directions? And here’s what I want to know: does it make a sandwich?

Clay (laughs): Ah don’t think so...but Ah haven’t made it through the whole manual yet.

Kimmel: Well, it's nice to know somebody actually reads those things. (yawns) I’m going back to bed. I’m glad you like your new toy. Oh...and by the way, whaddya think I’m talking to YOU on?

(pause)

Clay: You got one, too -- an’ ya didn’t TELL me?

Kimmel: iConfess. So...how long before you lose it? I got a bet going.

(pause)

Clay: Jimmy? Git iStuffed.


A heartfelt thanks to shine in nc for the use of her lovely iPhotoshop.

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Clay and Kimmel: Gift Grab, Part Deux

(Clay, swigging from a can of Mountain Dew, slouches in a big leather chair in Jimmy’s living room in L.A. Jimmy is stretched out on the sofa, clearly in convalescent mode, surrounded by wilting floral arrangements, big stuffed animals, balloons, magazines, newspapers, used Kleenex, half-empty donut boxes, and dirty dishes.)

Kimmel: Hey. It was nice of you to come and see the poor invalid.

Clay: No problem, Jimmy – Ah hadta come out here fer rehearsal anyhow.

Kimmel (sarcastically): Oh, now I feel special. You wanna see my scar?

Clay (shudders): Nope. An’ Ah got here a few days sooner than Ah hadta, when Ah coulda bin home with mah dogs, who Ah think have forgotten who Ah am, Ah’ve bin gone so much. If that makes ya feel any better.

Kimmel: It does. Hey…are there any other fan sites where I should be posting my thank you message?

Clay: Ya mean, mah fan sites?

Kimmel: Hey, it looks like they’re MY fans too now. And I’m theirs. (melodramatic sigh)

Clay (sardonically): Oh, a love affayre made in heaven. Well, don’t git too cocky, or Ah might hafta blog about how disgustin’ you are. Did yore maid take the week off? Coss it smells like a dumpster in here. (sniffing) Or a funeral. Or both.

Kimmel: No, this is just since this morning. The maid’ll be back…eventually. If she hasn’t quit.

Clay (shaking his head): An’ yore always callin’ me a slob. You’d think Sarah woulda come in here an’ straightened up.

Kimmel: Clay. We’re talking about a woman who actually likes potato chip crumbs in the bed. And don’t get me started on how hard it is to clean peanut butter off my--

Clay (sticking his fingers in his ears): LA LA LA LA LA…(removes them, pointedly changes the subject) Anyhow, Ah think mah fan club site was prolly the best place…fans of all walks, an’ all that.

Kimmel: Oh. Too bad.

Clay: Why?

Kimmel: Well, I’m only two bathrobes short of covering my entire crew for Christmas, I’ve gotten addicted to these Fannie May Pixies, and the children’s hospital definitely wouldn’t mind more stuffed animals. And I was still hoping for a box of Cubans and a case of Becks. And of course, you know I can always use more of these…(he reaches over to the coffee table and displays a very large pair of bright red plaid boxer shorts, emblazoned with the legend: CLAYMATES HEART U!). So I was thinking maybe a second wave—what’s so funny?

Clay (cracking up): Oh, yore jest like a kid ‘bout all these presents. It’s rilly cute. An’ Ah notice you didn’t even mention mine.

Kimmel: I did too! I called up that slacker Adam Carolla on his radio show and told him about it. Some friend…as opposed to YOU, HE didn’t send me shi—anything. Didn’t you hear me say nice things about you?

Clay (deadpan): Ah'm shore it won't surprise ya ta hear this, but Ah’m not a big Adam Carolla listener, Jimmy. (pouting) Ah bet ya didn’t even look at mah gift. Jest tossed it onta the pile with all the rest.

Kimmel: Hey, I was saving the best for last. (picks up a big ceramic bedpan and looks into it) This is very nice. Did you really decorate it yourself?

Clay: Ah shore did. Ah bet yore impressed that Ah took time outta mah busy globetrottin’ schedule ta make you that piece o’…art.

Kimmel: Oh, I am. And I love it. (reluctantly) Um…Clay?

Clay: Yeah?

Kimmel: I’m sorry, but…who’s this supposed to be a picture of?

Clay (with a smirk): Well…Ah wanted ta put somethin’ in thayre that only YOU could ‘ppreciate. So Ah painted that Gawker-Stalker woman you reamed out on Larry King.

Kimmel (contemplating it): How 'bout that. (wicked smile) Well. I’ll be SURE to put this to good use.

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Clay and Kimmel ("The Climmel"): I See London, I See France

(Clay in his hotel room in London. His cell phone rings. He checks the display, grins and answers.)

Clay: Hola!

Kimmel (bad British accent): Cheerio, old boy. Pip pip and all that. D’you have Prince Albert in a can?

Clay (mystified): Do Ah have WHO in a WHAT?

Kimmel (normal voice): Clay, didn’t you make crank phone calls as a kid?

Clay: Please. Mah mom woulda wore me out with a stick. No joke.

Kimmel: So, I see you snuck in a trip to Spain and you didn’t even tell me.

Clay: Jimmy, these days when Ah wake up in the mornin,’ Ah hafta stick mah head out the winda ta figger out whayre Ah am. An’ who’s sendin’ you copies o’ mah blogs? Unless yore an actual member o' mah Oh-Fishul Fan Club?

Kimmel (lying through his teeth): Of course I am.

Clay: Good, coss otherwise you better cough up the thirty bucks, ya cheapass. Ah don't s'pose yore gonna tell me yore screenname?

Kimmel (clears throat, changes the subject): Sooo...did you do anything fun in Spain?

Clay: Nope – Ah was thayre on business, an’ rilly busy. Somebody did try ta git me ta go to a bullfight, though.

Kimmel: And you didn’t go?

Clay: Nah…Ah hate the sight o’ blood, an’ Ah cain’t stand cruelty ta animals. (sotto voce) Unless thayre’s barbecue involved. Don’t tell PITA. (normal voice) Those matadors are purdy gutsy, though…Ah hafta give ‘em that.

Kimmel (bemused): Hmmm…matadors…I think I better file that away for future reference.

Clay (knowingly): Jimmy, Ah’m not wearing a matador costume OR fightin’ a bull on yore show. Don’t EVEN go thayre.

Kimmel: Actually, I was thinking of Guillarmo.

Clay (shaking his head): That pore guy. Ah don’t know why he puts up with you.

Kimmel: Are you kidding? He loves taking his mom to movie premieres and schmoozing with celebrities. Sure beats guarding the Porsches in the parking lot. So what if he has to wear slingbacks once in a while. But…he did make me promise not to make him put on a bra anymore. So, looks like that slot is open for next season.

Clay (wryly): Good luck with THAT one. Mebbe yore Uncle Frank’d be innersted. So…y’know mah tour is comin’ ta L.A., finely.

Kimmel (reluctantly): Um…yeah…

Clay: Jimmy, yore comin’ ta see me, aren’tcha?

Kimmel: Well—

Clay (severely): Now look, ya slacker. You’ve never seen me in concert—

Kimmel (defensive): Sure I have. You’ve sung on my Pontiac Garage stage, remember? And in my studio.

Clay (heatedly): That doesn’t count! You better git yore sorry butt ta mah show, which is right across town from you, by the way, or Ah jest might have other plans the next time sweeps rolls around.

Kimmel: Oooh, now I’m scared! (laughs) Okay, okay…I was just screwing with you. Sarah and I had already decided to come. Of course we’re gonna be there. So…are we supposed to wear big gaudy tee-shirts and blinky hats and feather boas and carry big honkin’ cameras and hold up huge signs that block everybody else’s view? And scream and throw underwear?

Clay (sigh, major eyeroll): Oh, Jimmy. That is so 2003.

Kimmel: Oh, okay…I’ll behave myself. I can’t speak for Sarah, though.

Clay: Jimmy, Ah fully expect her ta make a spectacle o’ herself. Ah’d be kinda disappointed if she didn’t. An’ Ah’m shore she’d feel right at home with some o’ mah more…um…enthusiastic fans.

Kimmel: So, now you’re in London? Geez.

Clay: Yep. Gotta talk ta some producers, but then we were hopin’ ta mebbe git in some sight seein’ today. Not shore whayre we’re gonna eat yet…we wanna go somewhayre upscale. Y’know…classy an’ understated.

Kimmel: Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t you know there’s a McDonald’s in the Tower of London?

Clay: Jimmy? Bite me.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many thanks as always to my partner in crime Fountaindawg for her dreamy 'shop.

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Clay and Kimmel ("The Climmel"): Jetsetter

Clay relaxing on the hotel balcony in Mexico, typing on his laptop. His cell phone rings. He squints at the display, grins and answers.

Clay: Hey!

Kimmel (bad monotonous Austrian accent): Mistuh Aaaaken. This is your buddy Aaahnold, the GUH-va-nate-tuh. (Clay bursts out laughing) Hasta la vista, beh-bee! Now listen--

Clay (cracking up): Ah’m listenin’...

Kimmel (as Aaahnold): I want you to come beck to Cah-lee-FO-neeah to acksept a very imPOtant awawd.

Clay (playing along): An’ what might that be, Mister Governator?

Kimmel: “Da Man Most Likely To Lose Im-PO-tant Body Pahts in a Foreign Country.”

Clay (laughing): Jimmy, you are so fulla merde.

Kimmel (normal voice): Ooh la la! Speaking Franch after your big trip to Paris, huh?

Clay: Oui! (deliberately) Bon-JOOR, mon-SEWER.

Kimmel: Heh. Is that all the French you know?

Clay: Hey, gimme some credit...Ah happen ta know four phrases besides this one.

Kimmel: And they are?...

Clay: One: “Whayre’s the bathroom?”

Kimmel: Trés important...

Clay: Two: ”What time is it?”

Kimmel: ...Came in handy, I’m sure...

Clay: Three: ”How much does it cost?”

Kimmel: ...Right. Like you even have to ask. And?

Clay: ”Leave me alone, dirtbag.”

Kimmel (laughs): Oh, that one was vital, I’ll bet! Who’dja say that to?

Clay (deflated): Well...nobody. Ah was hopin’ Ah’d git a chance ta use it aginst the paparazzi, but actually, nobody even recognized me over thayre.

Kimmel: Hard to believe. That must have been a relief, huh?

Clay: Well, yeah...at first. After a while, Ah gotta admit, it was rilly weird. ‘Course then Ah went to the Louvre* an’ took a look at Michelangelo’s David an’ it kinda put it all in perspective. Ah mean, after seein’ that, Ah shore couldn’t figger out why all those wimmin’ve bin chasin’ after ME.

Kimmel: What, you’re saying you’re not the spitting image of Michelangelo’s David?

Clay (shudders): Not even close -- more like Mickey Mouse.

Kimmel (eagerly): Hey, who was that “movie actress” you ran into over there? C’mon, spill.

Clay: No, Ah promised her Ah’d never say. An’ y’know Ah don’t...um...meet ‘n’ tell.

Kimmel: Awww...you’re no fun. So, I read your blog -- now you’re in Mexico?

Clay: Si, Señor.

Kimmel: Man. You jetsetter you. Canada to France to Mexico, all in a little over a week. What’s next? Asia? Africa? Akron?

Clay (yawning): Could be anywhayre. Ah’m gittin’ used ta lettin’ it all hang out on airplanes, that’s fer shore. An' that includes mah stinky feet. An' you prolly read that Ah hadta hurry ta mah manager's birthday party the minit Ah landed, so Ah looked -- an' prolly smelled -- like somethin' the cat dragged in.

Kimmel: Well, I hope you wore your nice wrinkled cargo shorts. Hey, that reminds me. I read someplace you asked for milk?

Clay: So? Ah like milk, an’--wait! (warily) Why are ya bringin’ that up?

Kimmel: Well, I saw something the other day and...well, I thought you’d like it--

Clay: Jimmy. Tell me ya didn’t send a cow ta mah house. Ya wouldn’t do that ta me, wouldja, after sendin’ me that wild turkey last Thanksgivin?’ Ah’m still findin’ turkey poop in mah shoes.

Kimmel: No, I didn't send you a cow. Wish I'd thought of it, though! Are you saying you’d rather have Odor Eaters?

Clay: Well, those Ah could actually USE. As you prolly read.

Kimmel: Hey, I don’t believe everything I read, especially about you. Or your...um...creative and enthusiastic fans.

Clay (with a sigh): Ah'm glad, Jimmy.
----------------------------------------------
*Okay...I know Michelangelo’s David is at the Uffizi in Florence, not at the Louvre in Paris. It’s called creative license, people.

Many thanks to my buddy Fountaindawg for her wonderful 'shop.

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“Let them call me names. It doesn't make it true."

“It’s not what you are called: it’s what you answer to.” --- African proverb

Clay Aiken is in the news again.

Seems like some gossiper mocked Clay last week. Seems like some people shrugged, some laughed and some got mad. Lots of energy and passion was expended.

The mention was pretty dumb, so it took little of my time.

There are other things in life much more worthy of laughter or outrage.

As I do with the sometimes hyper-serious Jeremiah of U2, Bono (whose music I adore and whose commitment I admire), I make fun of Clay Aiken myself. Clay’s a bundle of delicious contradictions, he can be melodramatic, he has odd allergies and self-confessed phobias. He’s been known to caricature his own accent, his limbs seem to go off in different directions when he walks and his ever-changing face is a cartoonist’s dream.

He knows this.

Gifted with a quicksilver wit and a sense of self-deprecation, no one makes better Clay Aiken jokes than Clay Aiken.

Four years ago, when he first arrived in the public eye, Clay was parodied as a country bumpkin, a bible-touting, straight laced conservative momma’s boy. The evidence is a bit different: he is a Southerner, but from Raleigh, a major metropolitan area, not from the country; a devout Christian who’s done his own soul-searching (briefly attending the Moravian Church) and a man who lives with an attitude of loving acceptance across the lines of race, gender, age and orientation; a lifelong registered Democrat who self-describes as “progressive,” and a strong, independent man --- who is a proud momma’s boy. What do you know: he doesn’t mind expressing love for the woman who raised him.

Somewhere along the line, the first joke got old, and so a few decided to play with the idea that Clay was some demented funhouse mirror opposite of the man most people had come to know him to be. There was the fan fiction from Bizarro World, which changed with every tick of the clock, the nameless, faceless “anecdotes”, riddled with impossibilities and inconsistencies, supposedly having taken place in locations Clay has never been with people he has never met --- or conveniently invented after the fact, as in an Eastern European hoax which miraculously popped up only after Clay blogged later that he’d vacationed there.

Funny: in the age of communication, there’s never been a shred of realistic evidence. Damn, didn’t anyone have a camera phone when “Clay” was sitting barefoot on the floor in first class, demanding a glass of milk?

With so many over-hyped, half-baked and wholly invented tales in the news, it’s no wonder Clay has mockingly dubbed himself the King of Controversy.

I suppose that for the gullible, the childish, the bored, the shock jock morning zoos, the alien baby tabloids and those who yearn to see good people fall, the fictions held a moment of entertainment value. As for me, I roll my eyes and move on. It's not just laughably fake, it's trifling, and that is just boring.

Call him names based on unbelievable nonsense. It doesn’t make it true.

Clay, despite his faults and failings, is a pretty admirable human being. From his UNICEF Ambassadorship to his own Bubel/Aiken Foundation to his service on the President’s Committee for People With Intellectual Disabilities, from supporting the Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Telethon to Ronald McDonald House Charities to U.S. Marines Toys for Tots to Trick-or-Treat for UNICEF in support of survivors of the tsunami and Hurricane Katrina, Clay is dedicated to service to such an extent that even some of his fans voice concern that he spends too much time with charitable endeavors and not enough time on his career.

(I think he balances his music career and his activist concerns pretty darn well.)

When did this desire to serve begin?









A "pre-fame" Clayton Aiken (right) with Y camp counselor friends.




Not when he knew he would be in the public eye: it began half a dozen years earlier than his television debut, in his late teens, when he was a YMCA camp counselor fighting with his bosses at the YMCA to include children with disabilities in their camps. At nineteen, he was the lead teacher for a class of students with autism, triggering his desire to understand children who live with that “puzzle.” He was a counselor and mentor for the CAP-MR/DD program (Community Alternatives Program for Persons with Mental Retardation/Developmental Disabilities). There, he met the Bubel family, working with their son Mike, who has autism.











Clay and Mike Bubel. Photo from The Bubel/Aiken Foundation.






Three years before there was an “American Idol”, Clay was pursuing his degree in special education from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.

And despite these documented truths, some would say that his dedication to inclusion is an act. Unless Clay is unusually prescient, it’s ludicrous to believe that he decided to become a special education teacher on the off-chance that there would one day be a television show that would succeed despite the odds against new shows, on which he would be selected from a field of tens of thousands and survive multiple rejections before making it to the finals, where he would be able to use a portion of his interview time to pretend to be a compassionate person who wanted to make a difference --- and hope that got included in the televised package.


Call him self-serving. It doesn’t make it true.

In his first major television interview with Diane Sawyer in October 2003, Clay talked about how it was both inexplicable and a bit frustrating to him that
anyone would think he was perfect, just because he doesn’t smoke or drink, because he doesn't use the F word (well, at least not very often, as he admitted)
and because he thinks it is important for people in the public eye to be good role models for the children who admire them.

In an Elle Magazine interview with Alison Glock, written during the summer of 2003 and dated that October, Clay told one of the first of his “isn’t life absurd?” stories, an incident where he was amazed and frustrated when a clerk told him they didn’t have any chicken available --- at a still open KFC restaurant. These stories, like Mark Twain’s tall tales, often seem exaggerated for comic affect (the old man in the airport who hit Clay with his cane, the limo driver who ignore Clay’s request to lock the doors until finally bellowing “THEY WILL BE LOCKED!”, Clay getting sick and passing out on the floor of an Eastern European McDonalds, while his best friend Kristy carefully put down her tray before coming to assist him.) To me, the KFC story is mock-bossy Clay at his best.

In the “American Idol: Life On the Road” special in January 2004, Clay is seen walking quickly off the stage at the Chicago AI2 concert, fuming about all of the technical breakdowns that cut off half of his first song, the record-breaking single “This Is The Night,” and forced him to physically haul himself up onto the stage from a malfunctioning hydraulic lift. He is angry, yes, but he makes the point that he feels that, through the incompetence or inattention of a technician, the fans had been robbed of the show they had paid for.

Some fans affectionately labeled this incident Pissy!Diva!Clay! A few other people, through jealousy or boredom or malice, used this and other invented or exaggerated tales (including a tired retread of a fake Josh Groban “Coke or Pepsi?” diss) to try to make a case that Clay is demanding.

Has Clay Aiken ever been rude to a fan or a deejay or someone else he came across during his public life? Undoubtedly, yes --- I know I have been, and not just to fools who deserved it. Might as well admit that I have sometimes been in the wrong. But for the dozen or so tales that are floating around (including a few that are clearly urban myths), there are hundreds and hundreds of verifiable examples from fans, media professionals, other entertainers, school groups and the myriad philanthropies with which Clay is associated of a generous, good-hearted, thoughtful, kind and sometimes bitingly funny man who went the extra mile.

Call him a diva. It doesn’t make it true.

First they ignore you, then they laugh at
you, then they fight you, then you win.
--- Mohandas Gandhi

A good joke has to be based on a kernel of truth. Snark --- wit paired with bite --- is hardest of all to do well, because it requires intelligence and balance. Overdone, it degenerates into cruelty.

I’ll laugh at Letterman and Stewart and Colbert (and now, shockingly, Kimmel, once among the worst of sophomoric, name-calling “humorists”), even when they tweak someone I like and make me wince. As biting as their humor can be, it almost always rises above the simple mean-spirited jibes of lesser talents, whose humor seems to be based more on volume than wit.

There’s been a trend for a while, that I don’t employ but that I do understand the reasoning behind, of taking back words once used to demean. Years ago, out of the blue, a stranger passing on the street called me the N word --- and I laughed at him and saw him deflate like a two cent balloon.

Some African Americans, women and gay people, for example, reclaimed and diffused hate speech, stripping those words of much of their power. But something disturbing happened in concert: neutral descriptors like “gay” became substitute insults, shrieked at volume in comedy routines and adopted by teens as a synonym for bad or useless.

The use of words associated with racism, sexism, homophobia and religious intolerance rarely make for good humor, largely because many people using them don’t have the wit and insight to be able to puncture the armor of those grievous human failings. They seem to think there is something funny in being black or female or gay or Jewish in and of itself, so they shriek those terms or a derogatory substitute and then dissolve into mocking laughter. No work or wit involved.

Set down you chains
And lend your voices only to sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength to that
which you wish to be free from
--- Jewel, “A Life Uncommon”

So I don’t waste my days railing against that smarmy, puerile doodler or the fourth-tier comic harridan or the late night talk show pairing of Dumb Humor, followed by Dumber. Why bother with people whose schtick is so boring and pathetic?

The most ridiculous of all are those who would deny Clay’s talent. I have no objection to those who don’t care for pop music or a reviewer who opines that Clay should have material befitting his talent. But for those who would attempt to group a singular talent like Clay Aiken with the fifteen minute flavors of the month?

Now let me see: shall I get all twisted up over opinions on Clay’s talent and potential from some obscure community college blog, the psychic network of reviewers who slammed his latest album without bothering to play it --- or listen to the evidence of my own ears? Or consider the generous praise he’s received from Hall of Fame, platinum-selling, award-winning career artists like Neil Sedaka, Gladys Knight, Verdine White, Robin Gibb, Heather Headley and fourteen time Grammy winning producer David Foster, Clay’s mentor and friend?



Clay and David Foster performed together at the Pacific Economic Conference in Vancouver. Among the dignitaries in attendance were California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and British Columbia Premier Gordon Campbell.(Photo from the Vancouver Courier.)

Clay has sold five million, broken first week sales records for both his debut single and his first album, and shattered the record for debuting holiday CDs.

He’s generated $28 million at the box office, across seven tours in three and a half years --- and counting.

Call him untalented. It doesn’t make it true.

There are people in the public eye whose excesses almost beg to be mocked. There they are: the trio of starlets, stumbling out of clubs night after night, drunk off their pantiless asses. There’s the athlete tainting the game with instant muscles and artificial power, achieving meaningless records courtesy of banned substances. There’s the pompous, morally superior, self-righteous radio guy --- who was a drug addict. There’s the brilliant actor spiraling out of control, crashing cars and falling asleep on strangers’ lawns (now, thank God, sober and succeeding one day at a time.) And there are those who are liars and clowns of both parties in Washington’s corridors of power --- or in a church, government office or school right in your community.

I’ll laugh sometimes, but there isn’t much humor behind it. Too much of this behavior veers from sad to pathetic to disheartening.

Then there are those who are far worse: the actor and the sportsman who hid abuse and violence until it sprang into the news in ugly and tragic headlines, the top selling artist who is alleged to have abused the innocence of the very young, the gun wielding, angry self-haters who delude themselves into believing that their brothers on the other Coast are the enemy. These are serious societal problems, and it’s impossible for me to find an iota of humor in actions like those, least of all in skits with dancing trial judges.

In an era of cyberbullying, insult humor and “legitimate” major media using tabloids as sources, I could literally spend all day replying to people whose raison d’etre seems to be to deride others. I know that most of their dark stars have risen only because some people keep clicking that link, watching that show, buying that publication.

I didn’t need Clay Aiken to tell me to ignore them, but he is right. They don’t deserve to be any part of my life, so I sure as hell won’t open the door and invite them in.

But is silence always the answer? When is it appropriate, even imperative, to reply?

One example in my life is when name calling springs from ignorance rather than malice.

I think of Clay himself, saying that he will speak up when someone uses the R word as a synonym for silly or worthless. I have three nephews, now in their late teens and early twenties, remarkable young men who are a joy to be around. A few years ago, when all of their high school and middle school friends used to hang around the kitchen table playing poker, I’d sometimes hear their conversation while I was making a meal.

Now my reputation among these kids is of the quirky, playful aunt, the one who knows the names of the rap artists and can tease them in their own slang, which elicits many a laugh. So when someone dropped the R word, I didn’t have to get indignant and make anyone feel defensive.

Smiling but straightforward, all I needed to say was this:

“Hey, guys, you might use that word, but don’t use it in this house. Think about it: what you call ‘retarded people’ --- people with intellectual disabilities --- aren’t stupid. A lot of them are working hard to learn and are doing their best. I bet you know some really smart kids who choose to act stupid, don’t you? What’s their excuse? Find a better word.”

I have no illusions that all of those kids stopped using that offensive slang, but there has been a time or two when I overheard one of those kids start to say it and then correct himself, or another of the friends say, “Nah, don’t say that, they’re okay.”

Small victories.

I’ve learned in time not to use a blowtorch to kill a flea. There are times, though, when discriminatory public policy, inequitable laws, leaders misusing the power on loan to them from the people, and inaccuracies or distortions in major media do need to be confronted. I believe that staying silent in the face of racism, sexism, religious intolerance, and homophobia can imply approval, and it must remain to the individual to decide when to say, “I do not approve.”

It just seems pointless to me to live life in perpetual battle mode, seeking a way to get even.

If we fight eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth, then we would have a nation that’s blind and toothless." The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

In the end, I simply don’t care that some no-name blogger or fourth rate gossiper titters and name-calls people better than they could ever dream of being. They have no power, unless we give it to them.

I know that there have been some who have called me names, mainly based on stereotypes and their own faults and failings. They don’t care about my truths: that I am a left-leaning social activist, a seeker in the Judeo-Christian tradition (with a touch of Zen), an advocate of the fundamental human rights, including civil rights, gay rights, women’s rights, children’s rights and the rights of people with disabilities, an entertainment industry professional, a lover of music from classical to Hollywood musicals to British Invasion to Motown to jazz to world beat to grunge to neo-soul to alt-rock and alt-pop, an African American woman --- and a fan of Clay Aiken.

Clay and I come from very different worlds, but we have at least one thing in common. Call me what you will. It won’t make it true --- and, like my wise African forebears, I will not answer.

Ignore.

You have heard that it has been said, 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. --- The words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5:38-41.

Imagine that: rather than sinking to the enemy’s level, try lifting him up to yours. It doesn’t always work and it might take years to change attitudes and behaviors, but there is no power capable of affecting transformation greater than love.

I have learned to pick my battles. I don’t waste my energy doing battle with a speck. I don’t mistake a snarky joke or a minor diss for a monumental affront. And I’ve tried to learn when the right thing to do is to take action, in lessons learned not from a pop singer but from Jesus and Gandhi and King, though I think Clay has learned those lessons, too.

Nonviolent social change is not a philosophy for the weak and the timid. It requires patience, understanding, forgiveness and courage. It requires being slow to anger. And it requires the knowledge that, from time to time, the best thing to do will be to go ahead and turn over a few tables.

Technorati tags: Clay Aiken, name calling, cyberbullying, insult humor, UNICEF, comedians, talk shows, humor, Diane Sawyer, Alison Glock, David Letterman, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, Jesus, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., clayonline.com, Clay Aiken Fan Club

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Newsweek blurs the line between journalism and....crap

I've been a long time subscriber to Newsweek, I'll estimate that it has been at least ten years if not longer. I enjoy the format, the political cartoons and some of their regular columnists like Anna Quindlen and Howard Fineman. Even those that I don't agree with express themselves well enough.

But approximately two and a half years ago, Newsweek reported a story about Clay Aiken and cited gawker.com as a source. That's right, gawker, the gossip site which uses this disclaimer;

Gawker is a gossip site. The site publishes both rumors and conjecture, in addition to accurately reported information. Information on this site may contain errors or inaccuracies; the site's proprietors do not make warranty as to the correctness or reliability of the site's content. Links to content on and quotation of material from other Gawker sites are not the responsibility of Gawker Media.

The story was never researched (and later disputed by Clay and his people) but Newsweek took the lazy way out and just reprinted the crap from Gawker. (I'm not going to provide a direct link, if you want to put money in their pocket with a hit, you'll have to work for it.) I was appalled and not just because it was about Clay. I was appalled because even though I'm an adult and I know you don't believe everything you read, I also feel that we should be able to have a few sources that can be relied on as media with integrity...stop laughing....sort of a few “benefit of the doubt” sources that you know would at least investigate something before committing it to print. Instead we got what NYU professor of journalism Jay Rosen calls, Newsweek's “Take my word for it world.”

But with that careless reference, Newsweek no longer held that status for me. I nearly canceled my subscription but couldn't be bothered (I think we got 4 years for 99 cents or something) and my husband reads it anyway during kids' sports practices. But I simply stopped reading it unless there was some story on a specific topic that is of interest.


For instance, this week I did read some of it because it had a cover story of Bill Clinton and I'm a big fan. After I finished the story, I flipped quickly through the pages, scanning the titles until toward the end when I came across an article about Perez Hilton and his influence on the music scene. Huh? Yes, the same Perez who runs a popular gossip site that reads like some journalism project for 7th grade remedial reading. I've only been there once when I accidentally clicked on a disguised link. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at how absurd and juvenile it was, I really had no idea. Cry because this guy is making a huge living despite any apparent lack of actual skills that add value. But what the heck, that's capitalism right? If there's a market for lies, harassment, crassness and meaningless pandering to the least common denominator, go for it. Ain't America grand.

But I expect more from a “reputable” magazine who brags that they have won more awards than any other newsweekly, than glorifying this bottom dweller. The purveyors of bullshit journalism is how Clay once described the gossip sites. Newsweek noted that Hilton has an occasional R rated post. Occasional? Does the intern who researched that site also moonlight as a porn star? And now they are talking about this fre..blogger like he's some sort of music visionary who has the pulse on who is going to be the next big thing in music? Yeah, just like I believe that he just happened to fall in love with X Factor winner (and Simon Cowell protege) Leona Lewis, right about the time he got invited to an RCA party in her honor. Wouldn't surprise me if there wasn't a little anti-trashing insurance going on there. We'll treat you like a legitimate journalist for a day and you make nice when you blog about Leona. And yet I'm supposed to not raise an eyebrow when Newsweek shows this guy some respect?

Then again, this is the same magazine who chose to publish a cover story called Losing Afghanistan to the rest of the world but the US got a happy cover.

I love reading biographies and autobiographies. One of my favorites was the autobiography written by Katharine Graham, famed owner and publisher of The Washington Post during the Watergate investigation. (Ironically, The Washington Post owns Newsweek.) She went into great detail about how they required two sources to confirm anything that went to press. NBC reporter Andrea Mitchell said the same in her autobiography and lamented how quickly unconfirmed stories make their way around the internet and end up on “legitimate” news sites. Granted one could argue that Watergate was a far more serious story than a silly little lie about a celebrity. I mean just ask the gawker editor what she thinks about that when asked on Larry King Live by guest host Jimmy Kimmel.



But if fabricated gossip about a celebrity is deemed OK, where do you draw the line? Who decides what's important enough to someone's life or someone's career before they check a source better than gawker. I guess not Newsweek. I asked a similar question in the blog “Whose Life is it Anyway?”

If Newsweek is going to position itself as a bastion of news magazines and a trusted one at that, I expect a little more integrity in its sources and a few more brain cells firing before it tries to convince me that Perez Hilton is a trusted source of information for anything.

Newsweek is published along with MSNBC.com. Ah yes, MSNBC.com, the home of one of the worst entertainment sections of any major site on the internet. Where half truths and innuendo can be found daily in The Scoop, which is basically an online tabloid. The same Scoop who took a story done by a local North Carolina station doing research into Clay Aiken's very successful children's charity. (The research was likely prompted by an ex-fan turned hater trying to stir up trouble because apparently Clay didn't sign 12 things, thank her five times for her support and kiss her on both cheeks when she had a meet and greet at a concert.) So the local station did the research and found her questions unfounded and in fact that the charity gives back 85% of the money it raises, quite in line with other reputable charities. But that didn't seem to matter to The Scoop and MSNBC.com, they chose to publish just the first part of the story, the bogus accusation. Because everything about Clay brings buzz (as I noted in this blog), it got picked up everywhere, eventually requiring Clay to discuss it during a spot on CNN's Showbiz Tonight. (The good news is the charity got a lot of donations after the bogus story was brought to light.) All because MSNBC figured it was OK to imply impropriety instead of doing a positive story about this charity for children actually making a difference or better yet ignoring a NON STORY. Nah, hits mean cash..integrity be damned. And this is who Newsweek is in bed with?

I realize I'm using a lot of Clay examples but that's the area I'm most familiar with without doing a ton of additional research. Unlike Newsweek, I don't get paid for that.

It's a problem, this blurring the lines. As Paul Gillin notes in his book The New Influencers

Mainstream media has an important role to play in addressing the accuracy issue. Once a newspaper or broadcast outlet picks up the story, the information acquires a new level of legitimacy that gives it new momentum.

I guess I'll have to go elsewhere to find someone addressing the accuracy issue.

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What's the Buzz?

What's the Buzz-tell me what's a happenin'



Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.


No, I'm not calling any Apollo astronauts. I remarked to a few people this week that the American Idol finale seemed like an afterthought. There was no buzz. I kind of feel badly for Jordin Sparks, she will need some serious manufactured buzz in order to have a successful album.

What is buzz and what is the difference between manufactured buzz and genuine buzz? How do you get people truly interested to ask "What's the Buzz?" as they did here in Jesus Christ Superstar from 1973?



As an aside, I saw JSC last month starring Ted Neeley. Yes, the same Ted Neeley in this clip. He looks great for a man in his 60's and can still hit the screaming notes but the rest of it was rough. But you know what? The buzz throughout the theater when he first appeared was very real. It had less to do with where his voice was and more to do with people being genuinely happy to see him perform.

Buzz is created with a spark but the talk, the interest has to be natural because the spark is part of an actual fire. Manufactured buzz is sort of like those fake gas fireplaces that require fuel to keep burning. Manufactured buzz can last as long as the source of the "fake fuel" continues and this usually means money. But real buzz is when the fire remains or can be rekindled all on its own at a later date.

This year's AI finale was more like that televised Yule Log film loop that you turn on at Christmas. Contrast this year with last year when a simple hint that Clay Aiken might be performing set off a frenzy on the entertainment shows. When he did appear in the infamous segment with fan and wannabe Michael Sandecki, the buzz Clay created lasted for a week after, nearly eclipsed the actual winner's moment and completely overshadowed the fact that Prince performed later.



Many artists can create buzz when there is time for something to promote. Their publicist works with all entertainment mediums to get them exposure. But except for the big stars, nobody pays much attention to what they do otherwise, especially in between film, TV or music projects. Clay's move from LA to Raleigh made the CNN ticker. Manufactured buzz can sometimes create enough genuine buzz to sustain it when the publicist's efforts stop but that's pretty rare. And then there's the Paris Hilton situation, but that's just Buzz-arre.

Clay is going to be touring 22 cities this July and August. Tickets have been on sale all spring and each venue tells us they cannot believe the buzz as soon as ticket sales were announced. I had one venue that I was speaking with about a group ticket buy. Our tickets were going to be assigned after their member ticket assignments and the fanclub presale. At first they promised me that all of our 30 requested tickets would be in the front orchestra section. Then they said because of the pre sale buzz, they thought maybe half the tickets would be in the front orchestra section. By the time, the buzz built the tickets were in the second orchestra section and not until the 7th row. The group ticket coordinator said he's never seen anything like it. All that buzz is felt throughout the venues and builds greater demand the next time he is booking a tour. Another venue said they estimated a demand of about 10,000 tickets for a venue that held 2500, just because of the pre sale buzz.

I've written before about buzz at a baseball game and I'm sure there will be buzz next year as all the political primaries start happening. But those sorts of things are to be expected. Buzz is harder to generate in the entertainment field without serious PR push because there is so much competition. But when you've got IT, that fire never goes away.

Looking to get sparked this summer, check out www.clayonline.com for the tour schedule.

. To the front row....and beyond!

Technorati tags:

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Photoshop courtesy of Invisible926

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Goodbye Red.

My mother-in-law died a few days ago. She valiantly fought cancer and COPD for the past several years but it finally caught up to her. Having touched so many, she will be greatly missed.

I had no doubt I would hurt for my husband and my children. I didn’t realize how much I would hurt for myself.

This whole week I have felt like I have been run over by a figurative steam roller. How can you feel numb yet experience jabbing pains almost simultaneously?

As people often do when someone who has been in their lives die, my mind replays several scenes with “Red”.

Before my husband and I were married we lived together but we didn’t have a washer and dryer. Mark would go into his mom’s house and do laundry. Well, I thought it he was the one doing it. Imagine my mortification when “Red” told me, quite matter-of-factly, that she had sent out a pair of my underwear out to be mended because it had a hole in it! So not only did Mark’s mom see my less than perfect unmentionables but so did someone else. I could have died.

As daughter-in-laws sometimes do, I took exception at times to my mother-in-law’s “suggestions” and her seemingly trying to override our decisions as parents. We didn’t agree on everything and she did love to spoil the kids. We won on the “My sized Barbie” but she would find a way to slip in little victories like ice cream before dinner.. I have to hand it to her though, she was an equal opportunity “spoiler”.

I found out I was pregnant when my daughter was about 2 years old. Mark was in between jobs and when he told his mom, she didn’t seem too thrilled. In fact she said to him “don’t you think that is a bit irresponsible?”. Looking back I think it was just because she worried if we could provide for another child right then but I was angry that she would say something like that

I was hurting and battered when I walked into her house after finding out that I had miscarried that child. Mark was at work and I had to go to the appointment alone. I wanted to say “I hope you are happy” but any bitterness was washed away by our mutual tears. She cried with me as a mother who had long ago also lost a child, as a grandmother mourning a future grandchild and simply as a woman in pain.

I will never forget that and will be forever grateful.

This past week has been hard. I saw my husband cry for the first time. I have seen my son transformed, from a gangly teen who hates to go shopping for any clothes, into a young man patiently insisting on getting a suit coat because “it is the right thing to do”

You read about it in a sad story, you see it in the “movie of the week” but you aren’t prepared when you play back all those old messages and hear “Mark, it’s me mom. Give me a call when you get in”. The voice is familiar and strong not faint or frail. It is a voice you expect to hear again yet knowing you never will.

I have been listening to a lot of Clay Aiken. I have literally needed to in order to get through this week. His voice soothes me. I listen to the hauntingly beautiful “Lover All Alone” and my tears fall freely . I am comforted by “I Will Carry You” and it reminds me of “Red” because she was always there for everyone.

If I touch half as many people’s hearts as she did, I will consider myself blessed. Actually, for having known her, I already am.

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Clay and Kimmel (“The Climmel”): Dancing with the Stars

I wrote this skit about six weeks ago...since Clay is actually scheduled to make an appearance on the Dancing with the Stars finale tonight during Jimmy's skit, I figured it might be a good time to revisit it...

(On the screen, a colorful title card: Dance Along at Home…with Jimmy Kimmel. Cut to a close-up of a solemn Kimmel on the empty JKL set, in white tuxedo shirt and black bowtie.)

Kimmel: Last week, we demonstrated the passionate and percussive Paso Doble. Unfortunately, my usual partner, parking lot security guard Guillarmo, sprained his ankle attempting a triple axel-pas de deux, so I have a special guest partner this week. Please welcome my friend, pop superstar Clay Aiken.

(The camera pulls back to reveal Jimmy’s black tailcoat tuxedo. He crosses stage right to his DWTS set, where a puzzled Clay awaits him, wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey and holding a football.)

Kimmel: Clay…why aren’t you wearing the costume I put in your dressing room?

Clay: Jimmy, that was a dress. An’ you told me this was another piece fer Monday Night Football.

Kimmel: Clay, why would I tell you that? Football season doesn’t start till September.

Clay (annoyed): Ah know that! But that’s what you said. Ah thought you were jest filmin’ ahead o’ time.

Kimmel: Whatever. Now that you’re here, we’re supposed to demonstrate a ballroom dance.

Clay: A dance? (laughs) Yore kiddin,’ right?

Kimmel: Haven’t you seen this segment before?

Clay: Nope. An’ Ah think this was jest a cheap ploy ta git me in drag.

Kimmel (defensively): Well, you did play Cher once. You can't deny it –- I saw the video.

Clay: That was years ago. Ya couldn’t pay me ta dress up like that now. How wimmen kin stand wearin’ that pantyhose Ah’ll never know. (sighs, resigned) What’re we supposedta do?

Kimmel: Well, the way it works is, I show a diagram of a dance, and then we demonstrate it for the folks at home.

Clay: Demonstrate it, huh? But Ah cain’t dance. You know that.

Kimmel: Oh, you can too. Despite those gunboats. (indicates Clay’s enormous feet)

Clay (sighs heavily): What’s the dance?

Kimmel: The jitterbug.

Clay (thinking): Well. (shrugs) Ah’ll give it a try. But only if YOU wear the dress.

Kimmel: Uh UH. NO.WAY. (Camera cuts to extreme closeup of Kimmel) Okay. You ready?

Clay (off): Ah guess.

(The camera pulls back to reveal Kimmel in a 1940s-style dress, bobby socks and saddle shoes, and Clay in Kimmel’s black tuxedo. We see the jitterbug diagram on the wall in back of them. They assume a classic dance pose, we hear Glenn Miller's "Little Brown Jug" in the background, and Clay and Kimmel flail around in circles awkwardly, Clay tripping over his own feet. Forgetting that he's now playing the girl's part, Kimmel attempts to lift Clay off the ground in a jitterbug move. Clay doesn’t budge, and Kimmel suddenly grabs his lower back, ducks out of the frame and groans loudly. Closeup as Clay turns to the camera.)

Clay: Remember…

Kimmel (off, in obvious pain): …you don’t have to be a star to dance like one...

Clay (sardonic smile): But it shore helps!

Technorati tags:
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Clay and Kimmel ("The Climmel"): After the Horse

(Clay’s cell phone rings. He answers.)

Kimmel: Hey, Lucky Charms!

Clay: Heh. Well, y’know what they say about ‘em--

Both (singsong): "They’re magically delicious!" Yeahyeahyeahokaywhatever...

Kimmel: So, Clay -- I thought the "hoarse on a horse" bit worked pretty well.

Clay (smugly): ‘Course it did. After all, it was MAH ahdea. But didja rilly hafta bring up the horse’s...priapism?

Kimmel: Oh, aren't we fancy. Clearly, you've been watching Viagra commercials.

Clay: Well, ya practically had us pickin’ out a china pattern. An’ we only jest met. (sighs) That’s the gossip mill fer ya.

Kimmel: Don’t feel slighted or anything, but I think Taco was more of a camera whore than anything else. Anyway, it was a pretty clever way to get back at a certain blowdried radio tool.

Clay: Yeah. (sardonically) Speakin’ o' leprechauns...

Kimmel: ...wonder if anybody got it.

Clay: Well, ya kin bet HE didn’t.

Kimmel (laughs): Probably right. Oh, and Aida wants your number. Alexa, too.

Clay (grinning): You shore they didn’t mean the horse?

Kimmel: Nah, you still got it. Anyhow, we’ve come up with a couple of great ideas for the next time you’re on.

Clay: Uh huh. An’ when is that gonna be?

Kimmel: Well, when do you want it to be? I’m thinking at this point maybe we should get you your own dressing room.

Clay: Oh, the ratings were that good, huh?

Kimmel: Yeah, pretty good, and a couple of new sponsors are interested.

Clay: Rilly? Who?

Kimmel: Well, Sonicare for one.

Clay: Yay.

Kimmel: And the National Lime Board.

Clay: How ‘bout that. (shakes head, puzzled)

Kimmel: Okay, now to our ideas. First of all, I’m thinking next time we should fly you in.

Clay (patiently): Jimmy, ya always fly me in.

Kimmel: No, no -- I mean fly you in -- like, on wires.

Clay: Wait -- y’mean, like Peter Pan?

Kimmel: Hey! Great idea for a costume! I’ll call the wardrobe dep--

Clay (laughing): No, c'mon! Jimmy, no. What’s next? Wings an’ a halo? A tutu an’ a magic wand?

Kimmel (enthusiastically): Say, that’s--

Clay: NOT.A.CHANCE. Ah don’t need ta tell ya what the message boards’d say then. An’ anyway, Ah’ve heard those harnesses’re rilly uncomfortable. Ah’m not rilly innersted in bein’ a soprano...Ah’ll leave that ta Aida. Okay...that was lame.

Kimmel (wryly): I’ll say. Well, how about a big animal costume? Like a big fat frog? Or we could dress you up like a Disney character -- they’d love that. They've gotta have an extra Pinocchio costume lying around. 'Course, we could fix it so that something else grows -- y'know -- other than the nose, if you get my drift. (Clay is ominously silent) Ooh! Ooh! Or an astronaut! Then we could play the theme from 2001 and do a bit about steely-eyed manliness and moon rocks and “the right stuff” and--

Clay (somberly): Jimmy, kin Ah ask you a question?

Kimmel: Sure, buddy. Shoot.

Clay: How come Ah’m the one who hasta wear the costume? Why don’t you wear it next time?

Kimmel: ‘Cause I’m the host, and you’re the guest.

Clay: That’s a stupid excuse.

Kimmel: Okay...how 'bout this one: I only wear a costume on Halloween.

Clay: Pretind it’s Halloween then. Or...wait! We could BOTH wear a costume.

Kimmel: Hey...you might have something there! I could be Yogi Bear and you could be BooBoo. Or I could be George Jetson and you could be Elroy. Or I could be Batman and you could be Robin. Or I could be the Skipper and you could be Gilligan. Or I could be Sheriff Taylor and you could be Barney Fi--

Clay (snorts): Ya shore ya don’t mean Opie? Coss Ah’m pickin’ up on a theme here.

Kimmel: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Oh! I just thought of another one. (triumphantly) Superman and Jimmy Ol--

Clay (impatiently): --Y’know what, Jimmy? Ah’ve got a rilly radical ahdea. Now, Ah know it’s kinda out thayre, but--

Kimmel (eagerly): Oh, the more “out there” the better -- what is it?

Clay: Okay, listen up. Here's mah big ahdea: Ah could wear MAH.OWN.CLOTHES, an’ Ah could...git riddy fer it now...SING.

Kimmel: Hmmm. (long thoughtful pause) Could work.

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Clay and Kimmel: Filling in for Larry King, the Sequel

Well, after seeing Jimmy Kimmel rip the paparazzi and Gawker Stalker's Emily Gould a new one a while back (and wasn't that great? -- who knew he had it in him?), I wondered what might happen if he was invited back to guest-host Larry King Live again, on another topic. I'm not saying I think it should unfold this way, necessarily, but it would certainly be interesting! (cue dream sequence music)

(Kimmel on the Larry King Live set, wearing a striped dress shirt, patterned tie, and coordinating suspenders. He addresses the camera.)

Kimmel: Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Larry King Live. I’m Jimmy Kimmel, filling in for Larry. Again. Apparently, CNN got a lot of mail after the last time I was on, so God knows why but they’re giving me another shot. So if you don’t like the show tonight, write to them -- it’s all their fault. Tonight’s topic? Challenging crass comedians.

Speaking of whom, I’d like to welcome my guests...from a competing timeslot on a rival network which will not be named: Conan O’Brien (closeup of Conan, whose expression suggests that he’s been sandbagged) and “comedienne” Kathy Griffin (mock horror, then as much shameless mugging as her Botoxed face will allow). We did invite everybody’s favorite coffeeshop freeloader, celebrity blogger Perez Hilton, to join us, but unfortunately right now he’s tied up in some litigation due to a little incident involving photoshop, a minor and a bottle of white-out. Maybe next time, Perez! If there IS a next time. We’ll also be joined by a special surprise guest.

Sooo...I guess I’ll just throw a general question out there and either of you can answer it, if you dare. What’s so entertaining about whether somebody’s gay or not? And if someone has clearly stated that they aren't gay, why can't you figure they know what they're talking about and leave it alone? And if somebody says their sexual orientation is nobody else’s business, why do you seem to disagree? Geez, I guess that was three questions! Anyway, what--

Conan (huffily): Nobody told my agent this was the topic. He said--

Kimmel: Really? Oh. Sorry about that. But since you’re here anyway, would you care to--

Conan: Not really. All I’m gonna say is I do what my audience likes. Bottom line...they laugh, the ratings go up, my sponsors are happy. Now excuse me while I fire my agent.

Kathy (stridently): I gotta weigh in on this. He’s right -- that’s what it’s all about. "My gays" laugh their asses off at my material -- I don’t care what anybody thinks as long as they think I’m hysterical. And they do. So there.

Kimmel: Okay, but what about the other 99.9 percent of the population? I mean...you know some of your stuff is in really bad taste. (to Conan) And YOU. Who used to write for The Simpsons, probably the funniest, smartest show on TV. And Saturday Night Live, which...well...USED to be. Isn’t this kind of a comedown for you, pandering to empty-headed frat boys?

Conan (meanly): Hey, I’m laughing all the way to the bank. And as far as I'm concerned, you’re a hypocrite -- didn’t you used to do exactly the same thing?

Kathy: Yeah, gimme a break! (sneers) When did you qualify for sainthood?

Kimmel: You know, you’re right. I was just as guilty of this as you are.

Kathy: Heh. Ain’t THAT the truth.

Kimmel: Yep, I freely admit it -- I made gay jokes with the best of ‘em. One day, though, I started looking around and realized that not only were a good number of the people I’ve met and worked with gay, but they were normal everyday folks who were good at their jobs, had families, etc. and the stupid jokes I was making were hurting them, limiting my audience, and making me look like a lowlife. And pretty soon, those jokes weren’t very funny to me anymore. And then I met one of the guys I’d been skewering -- somebody YOU (indicates Conan) and YOU (indicates Kathy) still make fun of regularly, and boy, was THAT an eyeopener. Speaking of whom--oh, willya look at that! It’s time for a break. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh? Stick around -- we’ll be right back.

(AFTER THE BREAK)

Kimmel: Okay, we’re back with Larry King Live. I’m Jimmy Kimmel, filling in for Larry, and tonight we’re with Conan O’Brien and Kathy Griffin, talking about how they feel about appealing to the lowest common denominator.

Conan and Kathy (outraged): HEY!

Kimmel (shrugs, resigned): Well. We have an addition to our panel...joining us via satellite from the local affiliate in Raleigh, North Carolina, please welcome pop superstar Clay Aiken. Clay, how’re you doing?

Clay: Ah’m good, Jimmy.

Kimmel: I’m here with Conan O’Brien and Kathy Griffin.

Clay: Oh joy. What, wasn’t Perez Hilton available?

Kimmel: As a matter of fact, no. He’s...um...tied up.

Clay (deadpan): Why am Ah not surprised.

Kathy (a patronizing whine): Hi, Claaaaay.

Clay (evasively): Mmmmwhatever.

Kathy (batting her eyelashes): Didja get the present I sentcha?

Clay: The feds warned you about that, Kathy.

Kimmel: So, we’ve been talking about why people make dumb unfunny gay jokes. Any comment on that, Clay?

Clay (thoughtfully): Well, Ah don't rilly know why, Jimmy...Ah guess since it has nothin’ ta do with me personally, Ah don’t rilly have an opinion on it, ‘cept it seems prejudicial, short-sighted, an’ mean-spirited. An’ it buys inta stereotypes, which is the kinda thang dumb, lowrent people do, y'know? Oops! Ah guess Ah DO have an opinion on it after all! (sardonic chuckle)

Conan: Oh, puhleeze! Clay, get real. If you’d just come out of the closet--

Clay (coldly): ‘Scuse me, Mister O’Brien...Ah don’t believe we’ve met. Mah name is Clay Aiken, an’ Ah’m a singer. An' a teacher, an' a UNICEF ambassador. Now, this is none o’ yore business, an’ not that it matters coss y’all’ll believe whatcha want to anyhow, an’ this is absolutely, positively, the LAST time Ah’m talkin’ ‘bout this, so LISTEN UP NOW: Ah’m straight.

Kathy (sarcastically): Yeah, riiiiight!

Clay (hard as nails): Well, 'course yore not gonna believe me, coss what would ya do fer a livin' then, ya parasite? What the heck would ya talk about? Ya might hafta hire some actual writers an’ try ta be...y'know...funny. Good luck with THAT one. Y’know, you oughta be payin’ me a commisson fer all the money you’ve made offa me. Ah’m gonna git mah lawyers workin’ on that one.

KImmel (surprised): Clay, I thought you said--

Clay (impatiently): Oh, stow it, Jimmy. Ah’m fed up. (to Conan, incensed) So you tell me, Woody Woodpecker, since yore such an expert -- how am Ah supposedta come out of a closet Ah was never IN ta begin with? An’ who are YOU ta define who Ah am? Only AH git ta do that. (sly smile) Ya wanna know what Ah think?

Conan (nonplussed): Uh, not--

Clay: --Ah think ya got some sorta weird obsession with me. Yep, some kinda sick fetish. Ah think yore rilly a Claymate, an’ it bothers you a lot. (Mah apologies ta you Claymates out thayre, but y'all know what Ah mean.) Conan, Ah'm thinkin' mebbe ya oughta git yoreself some help. That’s what Ah’d do if Ah were you. Ya rilly need ta stop lowerin’ yoreself with this crap.

Conan (furious): Are you cr--

Kimmel (interjecting): You probably oughta think about it, Conan. ‘Cause this guy? Can kick your ass.

Oh, what d’ya know about that? Time for another break. Conan and Kathy, thanks for joining us. It’s been...enlightening, that's for sure! When we come back, Clay here will demonstrate some chokeholds, and we’ll take some of your calls, here on Larry King Live.

(Many thanks to Fountaindawg for the photoshop, geekette for the original cap, and artquest for putting up that Kimmel video on YouTube.)

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Tickets: $500…Hotels/Airfare: $1000…Seeing Clay Aiken four times this summer... PRICELESS

MasterCard loves me. I called to increase my credit limit as we are buying a Jacuzzi and I was buying a large block of group tickets for friends to see Clay Aiken perform at The Mann Center in Philadelphia. Sometimes they ask why you want a credit increase. What would I have said? Soaking my head and soaking my heart?


I had to go to New York City on business this week (wouldn't you know it Clay was in NYC as well but never stopped by my hotel for some reason). I'm sure my MasterCard bill came while I was gone. I'm sure my husband will write little notes all over it. And they will have a lot of these "????????" There are memberships to venues that I'll never visit again. There are tickets, upgrades, group tickets. Airfare to North Carolina when I don't even have a ticket. And that doesn't even include the ridiculous price I paid for four Red Sox broker tickets. One time before when I bought broker tickets for a Joyful Noise concert, I had my son intercept the Mastercard bill. My husband is smarter, he just pays cash for his little Home Depot extravaganzas. "I know I just needed a hammer but I bought this really great ladder to go with it."

Planning for the concerts is a lot of fun. On my message board, there is a section just for tour planning. It's appropriately named the Stampede because that's what happens when a tour is announced. The locals recommend hotels, ticket groups are created. "Hey, I need a roommate! It doesn't matter if I've never met you before!!" I think there are times when I've got hotels reserved in more than one city on the same day.

The funny thing is when I describe following the tour to different people. My husband gets the camaraderie part but doesn't get the whole seeing multiple shows of the same concert part. I need to show him the video of Clay's hilarious improv stand up comedy that is interwoven with the music. Maybe that will show him that no two shows are alike.

But there are the others who were like me a few years ago. Professional women who love their job, love their husbands and kids but yearn for something just for them. I had that very conversation with our head of sales just yesterday. Marketing and sales have a symbiotic relationship and in some companies don't get along. I get along with our head of sales famously well, she and I have become friends. We worked a tradeshow together yesterday and took a late lunch. She and I were both tired and talked about what to do to rejuvenate ourselves. I started to tell her about the concert trips. From the beginning and meeting other professional women (and men) 4+ years ago and developing close friendships to the traveling around from city to city enjoying life, each other, Clay and his music. I talked about seeing different parts of our country as well as learning about problems in far flung corners of the world like Uganda and Afghanistan. Then I described becoming aware of limitations in programs for children with disabilities and how the Bubel/Aiken Foundation is trying to change that-basically, the whole Clay Nation experience. Her eyes were wide, her jaw slightly dropped. She got it. She said "That is sooo great." It made me long for something like that for her and grateful that I have Clay and Clay fans in my life.

So, with ticket buying out of the way in the next few weeks except for upgrades and party planning, everyone will settle back into their routines. Then July will arrive. And the buzz coming from the message boards will be palpable.

Aside: I wrote this blog on the morning of April 26th. When I came home that evening, my husband had opened up the Mastercard bill and there were nine “?” next to charges. I guess I know him pretty well.....

I remember when Mastercard asked people to create their own "priceless" commercial. Unfortunately, they also gave the general scenario that you had to use but if they didn't I was going to send this in.

VOICEOVER:Filling up the tanks of a caravan of cars $200

VIDEO: Cut to line of cars of people of all ages/genders wearing Clay T-shirts laughing and filling up their tanks.

VOICEOVER: Ticketmaster charges and hotel bookings for four nights in four cities: $1000

VIDEO: Cut to a pile of Clay Aiken tickets being handed out and same group of people checking into a hotel

VOICEOVER: Convincing your husband that you can take a week to follow Clay Aiken's summer tour with 30 of your closest friends? Priceless

VIDEO First show woman dragging suitcase and camera to get into one of the cars, waving to husband who is shaking his head and smiling and then to Clay rocking on stage to Back for More with crowd doing first pump and that same group of people having the time of their lives. Last shot is the same caravan pulling out of another gas station showing license plate that says "I'd rather be at a Clay Aiken concert". Instead of the license plate number, you see the Mastercard symbol.

And yes, I have one of those license plate frames.

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Final Day for Clay Aiken's UNICEF Appeal for Afghanistan

UNICEF Ambassador's Fundraising Drive Exceeds Original Goal, Now Over $161,000 on Tenth and Final Day














UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador Clay Aiken administers oral polio vaccine to a newborn at the Sadat Health Clinic in Bamyan Province.


UNICEF Ambassador Clay Aiken's $100,000 in 10 Days for Afghanistan Appeal is now on its final day, having far exceeded its original goal. According to the UNICEF Fieldnotes blog, $161,798.82 was raised as of 9:00 AM EDT Friday, April 20.

Funds raised from this appeal will support health and education programs for children and women in Afghanistan, including the following:

* Extending education, particularly to girls who could not attend school under the Taliban

* Building and rehabilitating schools

* Training teachers

* Polio Immunization Campaign

* Maternal and Neonatal Tetanus Campaign

* Protection of Children from Abuse and Violence

* Providing safe water and sanitary latrines

UNICEF is serious about accountability and regularly reports on the progress of its campaigns via reports available for free to all on its website.



















As part of this fundraising campaign, UNICEF Fieldnotes further reports that all donors who give $50.00 or more will receive a copy of Clay's Field Report via e-mail from UNICEF. The report will detail Clay's five day visit to Afghanistan. While there, he visited Kabul and Bamyan, observing schools, health clinics and a center for street children. The report will also feature exclusive photographs from the visit. Donors of $1000 or more will receive an autographed copy.

Video from Clay's field visit was posted last week on the Official UNICEF MySpace page. Click below to watch:

UNICEF Ambassador Clay Aiken visits Afghanistan



Please act immediately to support these lifesaving programs for the children of Afghanistan.

Click HERE to make a secure, tax-deductible donation to support UNICEF's programs in Afghanistan.



















Clay talks to students in an outdoor classroom at the Shirin Hazara School.



Photos and Video: UNICEF

Technorati tags: Clay Aiken, UNICEF, UNAMA, United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan, US Fund for UNICEF, Fieldnotes, education, Afghanistan, children, Kabul, Bamyan, health, American Idol

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