Helping out stops at reaper's door - Appreciation for firefighters

As the line goes, “a man’s got to know his limitations.” I like to think of myself as a person who looks out for his fellow human beings as much as he can. I could very easily be one of the people in that Liberty Mutual commercial, helping a random stranger unload a sofa or stopping someone from crossing against a light so they don’t get hit by a car. I’m a firm believer in random acts of kindness.

I draw the line at mortal danger, however. My “fight or flight” response is so well developed that if I’m faced with a life-threatening situation, there is no question in my mind which of those two instincts is going to win out. I know I could never be a doctor because I’m squeamish. I also know I could never be a firefighter because as a guy who values his life, running headlong into a burning building is essentially illogical to me. The fact that I would be moving away from trouble as fast as I possibly could gives me a profound sense of gratitude and respect for those who wouldn’t – like firefighters.

They’re incredible human beings and you can find them anywhere people live. You can find them everywhere else, too. Wherever there’s a fire, there are firefighters risking their lives to put it out. They spend days on end training and preparing to deal with a disaster they hope never comes, but they know eventually will. Sometimes they’re not even paid, just volunteers who put it on the line to protect others. These are truly special people and they deserve better than what they’re getting.

The 20,000 troops Californians have in our National Guard are supposed to be standing by for exactly the kind of situation we’re dealing with now: local first responders overwhelmed by disaster. But because our regular Army is stretched thin, our President needed one of about every three of those troops for overseas deployment. He’s also diverted half our available equipment so California’s Guard is short more than 1,500 Humvees, tactical vehicles, and lifter trucks. This is a classic “opportunity cost”. Our President is basically telling Americans living in southern California and on the Gulf Coast that our government cannot attend to their needs because it must attend to the needs of people in Basra and Mosul – and there’s only so much money and material to go around.

In another life I sold real estate. We used to call it the “dirt business” (Malibu would be really nice dirt, for example) because the dirt underneath is always way more valuable than the houses built on it. Also because you always have the dirt, even when the house is gone. In the coverage of these fires, I’ve been hearing a lot about the Malibu homes of people like Geoffrey Katzenberg, David Geffen, and Tom Hanks – people who can wait it out at one of their other homes and can certainly afford to rebuild if the dirt is all that’s left when the fire is put out. I can appreciate that the Hollywood mogul is one of southern California’s greatest natural resources, but let’s not forget about the Angeles, Cleveland, or San Bernardino natural forests. It’s not Jennifer Aniston’s house, but it’s dirt we should value anyway.

I’ve grown to love that special breed of human being that is the First Responder. Firefighters, EMT’s, and even police (except the ones who become cops because they were picked on) have a Good Samaritan gene that, in my experience, the rest of us just don’t have. I saw it in New York on September 11, 2001 when firefighters raced into the World Trade Center, knowing they might not come out. And I’m seeing it now in Los Angeles and San Diego as fire crews from all over the country battle hundreds of thousands of acres of hot death without concern for their own safety – knowing it will happen again.

These phenomenal people show us the very best of what’s possible in the human condition and, as much as I admire the men who do this work, I have a special reverence for the women. Not as physically strong as their male peers, these women still carry the load (literally and figuratively) and do the same jobs.

When disaster strikes, it doesn’t matter who you are, what you do, who you vote for, or how much money you have. When the waters rise or the fire burns, we are all the same: helpless and in need of a hero. New York’s fire department refers to themselves as, simply, “the Bravest”. After watching the events of the last week, there is no question in my mind that the title that applies here, too.

Family reunion just a watering hole away - The World Series at Sonny MacLean's

The World Series starts tonight with my beloved Red Sox hosting the Colorado Rockies at historic Fenway Park and as a born-and-bred Bostonian, I am already getting grief from my friends because I’m not coming home. They gave me a pass in 2004 because I was working on the Kerry campaign, but not this time. They say I should be drinking cold draught beer surrounded by Sox fans in the loving embrace of Red Sox Nation. But they don’t know about a local Santa Monica institution and the headquarters of Red Sox Nation West: Sonny McLean’s.

This place is a little slice of heaven, despite the fact that they don’t serve hard alcohol (can a brother get a full liquor license?). It’s a Boston sports bar with killer boneless Buffalo wings and it’s a short, drunken stumble from my apartment. By far, the best thing about Sonny’s is the people. When Coco Crisp recorded the last out on Sunday night, it sent the Sox to the Series and sent the bar into an absolute frenzy. There was nothing short of an explosion of cheers, followed by total strangers hugging, kissing, drinking, and loving our team together. I couldn’t have been happier and more comfortable if I was at a family reunion.

I realize that this is Dodger country and Dodgers fans think they’re hardcore loyal because they “bleed Dodger blue”. But in Boston we have a saying, “Red Sox baseball isn’t life and death. It’s bigger than that.” We don’t think of ourselves as “fans”, we think we’re part of the team. In fact, the first thing I did when we completed that historic comeback against the Yankees in 2004 was to order the official World Series cap and World Series jersey with my name on the back.

As an unofficial Ambassador from Red Sox Nation, I will point out some things to watch for in the World Series as a service to Dodgers fans. You probably can’t remember the last time the Dodgers fielded a team of 25 guys who all play hard for each other, who play with heart and passion, who play for the love of the game, and who play that way every day. So keep your eye on designated hitter David Ortiz as he greets players coming back to the Red Sox dugout and watch how he keeps guys fired up, no matter how they’re playing.

I know James Loney, Russell Martin, and Matt Kemp are the only every day players drafted by the Dodgers, so Dodgers fans aren’t used to seeing the farm system produce results on the field for the big league club. But pay attention to second baseman Dustin Pedroia, first baseman Kevin Youkilis, and center fielder Jacoby Ellsbury. These guys were supposed to be the future of the Red Sox organization, and with a combined 26 hits and 13 RBI in the Cleveland series, they’re proving that the future is now.

Dodgers fans should also watch our veteran players Mike Lowell, Julio Lugo, and J.D. Drew (remember him?) to see what happens when a first-class organization brings proven players into an already tight clubhouse and challenges those players to perform. It doesn’t always work (like when Jeff Kent referred to the “kids” on the 2007 Dodgers), but when it does, you can have the perfect combination of young guys with something to prove and veterans showing them how to get it done.

Luckily for Dodgers fans, you’ve got a Bostonian at the helm. Owner Frank McCourt settled for buying the Dodgers back in 2004 after he failed in his bid to buy the Sox. Then he got a taste of the playoffs in 2004 and 2006, so you know he has to want more. And with no salary cap in baseball, there is nothing to stop him from going out and spending the money to fill the gaping holes in his team, overtaking the Rockies, and making the Dodgers the team to beat in the National League West.

For the record, I don’t say these things to rub Dodgers fans’ noses in the Red Sox success. Far from it. I spent my entire life having my nose rubbed in it by Yankees fans, so I know what a crappy feeling that is. I’m saying these things out of pure selfishness. I want Dodgers fans to insist that their team sign another top-of-the-rotation pitcher, a power-hitting outfielder, and a power-hitting infielder because I want the Dodgers to win the National League pennant next year. That way, when the Red Sox win the ALCS (again), I won’t have to book a flight to go see a game. And if, for some reason, their team doesn’t get it together, Dodgers fans are welcome to join us at Sonny’s.

"Bubba" is stumped - Bill can't help Hillary

I liked Barack Obama before, but I’m loving him now that he’s finally going on offense. His campaign is still about the politics of hope, but he had to adapt his approach because the conditions on the ground in the first important state (Iowa) have changed. I’m talking about John Edwards’ plans to accept federal matching funds - an admission that his campaign is dead in the water - and the fact that Hillary Clinton is now selling a two-for-one Hill & Bill package. This weakness on the part of both campaigns means the time is right for Barack to ratchet up the rhetoric, and few things make me happier than Hillary Clinton being exposed as the fraud that she is.

Clintons don’t take positions, they position themselves. In the New Hampshire debate, Sen. Clinton was asked about her loyalty in a Cubs/Yankees World Series (she’s from Chicago, but represents New York). She replied, “I would probably have to alternate sides.” The next day, Barack spoke to a rally in New York City saying, “Even your senator of New York wasn’t clear about the Yankees. Ah, I know who I‘m rooting for, the White Sox. I know my team.” It was a sign of things to come.

In that debate, she tried to distance herself from her husband. Asked if political family dynasties are healthy in a democracy, she said, “I’m running on my own. I’m going to the people on my own.” Polling in Iowa which had her tied with Obama and trailing Edwards by eight points in May now has her leading Edwards by seven points. Did she take her message to the people of Iowa and win them over? Not so much. Instead, she trotted out her not-so-secret weapon (Bill) twice this summer, and he delivered a fifteen-point swing. I guess she’s on her own unless she’s losing, then she’ll go back on her word in order to win. After all, she’s a Clinton.

I don’t think that motivated Barack to kick it up a notch because I don’t think he’s scared of her or her husband. He’s raised more money than any candidate in history, and in 25 weeks built a network of supporters bigger than the one the Clintons have been working on for the last 25 years. I think he was counting on the press to ask Sen. Clinton about her voting record, her position on Iraq, and to explain the difference between the two. But the Clintons are now leveraging access to Bill in exchange for favorable coverage of Hillary, like when they forced GQ editor Jim Nelson to choose between running an unflattering piece about Hillary’s campaign and another GQ writer’s seat on Bill’s plane when he went to Africa in July. The story was killed.

So Barack is taking his anti-war message to Iowa Democrats himself because, after all, the Democrats are an anti-war party. Conveniently, Sen. Clinton just cast a vote which shows she’s learned nothing over the last five years, and how out of touch with voters she is. In 2002, she voted to authorize the president to wage war in Iraq, but without reading the National Intelligence Estimate on the Iraq threat. Barack described that vote last week saying, “She says that she wasn’t really voting for war back in 2002, she was voting for more inspections, or she was voting for more diplomacy. But all of us know what was being debated in the Congress in the fall of 2002. We didn't need to authorize a war in order to have United Nations weapons inspections. No one thought Congress was debating whether or not to conduct diplomacy. The headlines on October 12, 2002 did not read: ‘Congress authorizes diplomacy with Iraq’ - the headlines on October 12, 2002 read ‘Congress backs war.’"

A few weeks ago, she voted for an amendment stating it should be the policy of the U.S. to use “military instruments” against Iran. Barack hit her on that saying, “Why is this amendment so dangerous? Because George Bush and Dick Cheney could use this language to justify keeping our troops in Iraq as long as they can point to a threat from Iran. And because they could use this language to justify an attack on Iran as a part of the ongoing war in Iraq. I don't want to give this President any excuse, or any opening for war. Because as we learned with the authorization of the Iraq War - when you give this President a blank check, you can't be surprised when he cashes it.”

If he keeps up like this, the press will have to start asking her those questions she knows she can’t answer – and even big, bad Bubba won’t be able to save her bacon.

Who the hell is ABC calling a caveman? - Racist sitcom from hack ad writers

The new fall lineup is in full swing and there is one show which stands out for me. The show is “Cavemen”, it’s on ABC, and it is easily the most racist show I have ever seen. I never thought any network would touch NBC’s insultingly unrealistic portrayal of ten people living and working in New York City who don’t know a single black person socially (on “Seinfeld” and “Friends”), but ABC has done it. Regardless of what the network says now, the caveman are really black guys with hairy faces – and that’s how they’re written. I can’t imagine why ABC president Steve McPherson green-lighted this steaming pile of crap, but just like the show’s writers (Joe Lawson, Josh Gordon, and Will Speck), I’m sending him a copy of this column; and when I see any of them, it’s on (metaphorically speaking, of course). Because this show about three token black guys living in San Diego (written, ironically, by three token white guys living in L.A.) would only be slightly less racist and offensive if they put the guys in blackface.

As a writer and comedian, I give Joe Lawson credit for a funny premise - in a thirty-second ad. But what writer can’t be funny for thirty seconds? The joke in the commercials wasn’t the fact that the cavemen were the punchline, it was the fact that they existed at all. So the comedy came from their righteous indignation at having to justify their existence - which ran the gamut from the angry caveman boom operator who storms off a set after being insulted by an anchorman to the mama’s boy caveman having an “existential meltdown” in his psychiatrist’s office. But as a black man, their execution makes me want to go Sprewell on ‘em (watching these hacks try to sputter out an explanation as the oxygen leaves their brains – now that’s funny).

Before you say, “come on, Kenny – it’s not that bad. Maybe they’re supposed to be a generic minority”, let me assure you these are not your mother’s Geico cavemen. Look at some of the dialogue Joe, Josh, and Will gave us when the cavemen were talking about dating “Sapes” or Homo sapiens (their pathetic metaphor for interracial couples): “Stick to your kind, crave the cave.” “Keep your penis in your genus.” And my personal favorite, “She’s not ashamed of you, she’s ashamed of herself…her yearnings, her desires. Sapien women see us as the forbidden fruit. They think that we’ll take them to a place, sexually, that they’ve never been before…you gave her a little taste of something that she ain’t gettin’ nowhere else. And afterwards, they feel naked, utterly transformed. Walking down the street they think to themselves, ‘everyone can tell, everyone knows what I’ve done.’ So they have to drive their impulses underground,” delivered by a caveman named Maurice. Again, I’m not making this up.

What on earth made Steve McPherson think that Joe Lawson, a hack copywriter from an ad agency in Virginia, could write a compelling sitcom? After all, you learn the skills you need to be an advertising copywriter in 8th grade. And what made him think these three white guys could back up their pitch (“a send-up of race the way ‘3rd Rock from the Sun’ is an analysis of human nature”) and actually write black people? ABC knew something was wrong because the show was “retooled” and “recast”, and the original pilot (which, God willing, nobody will see) had to be “reshot” after somebody at the network (rightly) thought there may be a problem with the cavemen’s original character traits: athleticism, sexual prowess, and laziness. I’m not making this up.

In other words, the show that Joey, Joshie, and Willie actually wrote wasn’t good enough, but ABC was already committed, so they’re trying to make it work. Do yourself a favor, Steve McPherson, and stop trying – it’s not getting any better. It’s the wrong show, by the wrong guys, at the wrong time.

It’s not like there aren’t enough actual minority groups to write about - ABC didn’t have to invent a new one in order to put another “fish out of water” sitcom on the air. The fish out of water isn’t funny any more, and the premise is flawed in the first place. We don’t live in an America where white is the “norm” and everything else is “other”, despite what idiots like Joe Lawson, Josh Gordon, and Will Speck say.

But if that’s what the networks want, I’ve got a pitch of my own: it’s a show about a black advice columnist in Santa Monica who dates out-of-control or over-the-hill starlets and turns their lives and careers around. I call it “Advice & Consent” - and it can’t possibly be worse than “Cavemen”.

What Britney needs is dark & lovely - And I'm there for her

I blame myself. She’s the reason I came to L.A., but I never told her. I figured if she saw me at enough places around Santa Monica and Malibu, eventually she’d say hello. My sense of humor, natural charm, and rugged good looks would do the rest. We’d go out, she’d see me dance, and that would be it. Then I’d spend the rest of my life taking care of her and giving her the unconditional love she’s been longing for. I’m a hopeless romantic, I know, but that’s good because as someone who loves her and only wants the best for her, she really needs me right now. Of course, I’m talking about the West Side’s favorite headline generating baby mama, Miss Britney Jean Spears.

We all have weaknesses, and my Britney is no different. She likes attention and she likes cute guys who can dance. Who doesn’t? It was these weakness that caused her to make the worst mistakes of her life: cheating on Justin Timberlake (the only guy I would have stepped aside for) with a choreographer, and marrying a back-up dancer from Fresno (a walking, talking identity crisis) less than six months after meeting him.

Her Federline period was chaotic, but it gave us Small Fry and Tater Tot. I was surprised the career which was going to be put on hold while they were growing up was Britney’s, not Kevin’s. And now, with Fresno’s finest teaming up with the pride of Kentwood, Louisiana, to raise the boys in the Valley, I can’t sit silently by any longer. Say what you will about parenting skills, at least she had them in the 310 area code.

Britney, people bought 75 million of your albums because you sing like the love child of Aretha Franklin and Rick Astley, and because your body was so hot you made white girls with athletic hips and thighs love their booties. These are only two of the reasons I love you and because I love you, I’m telling you: you need a man in your life. A good-looking man who can dance. A good-looking black man who can dance, care for a your needs, keep you focused, any make you happy. And if you look at the top left of this page, one will be smiling back at you.

Our first move as Team Britney will be to stop giving the paparazzi free images of you; we control your image. Your mantra is “My image pays. I control my image. I control who my image pays.” I promise it will make them want you more and help get the boys back.

Next, we respect your body. Nothing goes in it or on it without my approval (don’t worry, I think you look hot in everything except fast food restaurants). For six months, you eat four small meals (nothing after 8 PM) and do 75 minutes of dance, stairs, treadmill, kickboxing, or cardio-striptease every day, and we will get your sexy back.

Your next album will reflect your womanhood when you do a tribute to Billie Holiday and Sarah Vaughn. Your new body will be draped in Valentino, Gucci, and Versace when you premiere the album with three shows in Las Vegas. Then watch how the music industry falls back in love with you and begs you to make another pop album.

This plan works for me, too. I’ve got 11 nieces and nephews so don’t worry about the boys, I’ve got the childcare thing covered. Getting them up and dressed and dropped off at school is no big thing, either. That leaves me time to go to the gym, hit Robertson or Main Street for lunch, and do some writing before I have to get them to soccer practice, make dinner, read with them, and tuck them in. I’ll make sure that in the little bit of time you’ll have with us (between album tours and rehearsing and performing your annual Vegas and Radio City Music Hall shows), you’ll have three healthy, well-adjusted guys happy to have you home. When you want to see them while you’re working, I’ll bring them anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice.

And if you’re worried about not having a social life when you’re back home, I got you. A couple of nights a week, someone will sit with the boys after they fall asleep and I’ll hit up Hyde or Les Deux or wherever and stay up on what clubs are hot - so you won’t feel like you’re missing anything while you’re away on tour. On top of knowing your boys have a man around who will kill for them, making more money than you ever dreamed, and being back on top of the music business, the best part is it will drive Christina, Justin, and Kevin crazy.