How I spent My Summer -- by Horace J. Digby

In September Sharon and I went to Italy with friends. It involved loads of hiking in Zermatt on top of Klein Matterhorn and in the Italian costal region known as Cinque Terre, exploring ancient Rome, with visits to Pisa and Venice.

In Portofino Our chartered boat moored just next to the Dolce & Gabbana yacht. The designers have a mansion suspended from cliffs just west of this small village. When we arrived the D&G crew was busy scurrying about the deck sporting silver windbreakers which matched the yacht's hull.

Sharon and I spent several hours to exploring curious shops and public buildings, then took lunch at a harbor cafe. Later, when we headed back to our boat, a commotion welled up behind us. As it turned out Jennifer Lopez and husband Marc Anthony were onboard the Dolce & Gabbana yacht.

Deciding to brave a small storm of paparazzi, J-Lo and Marc had come ashore. they were headin off toward the same cafe Sharon and I had visited. Photos made People Magazine online that afternoon: http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20227900,00.html?xid=rss-topheadlines. Fortunately the extreme respect People Magazine and most paparazzi have for our privacy prevented Sharon or I from being mentioned in the articles.

After Portofino we visited the North Italian lakes region, crossing into France and taking a three-day side trip to the Swiss alpine village of Zermatt where we explored the Matterhorn. We took a ski lift thousands of feet up the mountain to glacier fields on Klina Matterhorn, visiting with Alpine enthusiasts from around the world. The Matterhorn is amazing. It's nearly an exact copy of the one they have in Disney Land. The whole thing was sort of a last minute trip for Sharon and I, but what a blast.

We returned from Italy on Monday. Thursday I had a deadline to deliver the foreword for author Ed Tasca's new book, The Fishing Trip That Got Away. Then, on Friday I was due in NYC to entertain at the 2008 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor banquet. This year's award went to Madeleine Begun Kane ("Mad" Kane), and our celebrity judge for 2008 was none other than Bob Newhart.
It was great getting to work with Newhart. What a true gentleman he is.
The awards ceremony was exciting. We met for drinks at the famous Algonquin Hotel where Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker and the literary who's who of the 1920s and 30s met as part of the Algonquin Round Table. Dinner and the evenings entertainment were next door at the Harvard Club (Benchley had been a member). It's always tough to perform for humor writers. They tend to analyzing instead of laugh. So you have to surprise them. It's always best if the humor starts before they see it coming. So I started out introducing guests, and then, at just the right moment, my cell phone rang, and I did the following monologue:

Horace J. Digby
(answering his cell phone)

Hello? [pause] . . . You have perfect timing. [pause]
. . . I was just getting ready to [pause] . . .
Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure
to announce that, tonight we have, on the line, all
the way from Bellaire, California, Bob Newhart.

(Horace raises hand to stifle applause)

Bob wanted me to tell [pause] . . . What, well, no,
they can't actually hear you [pause] . . . We weren't
actually able to [pause] . . . Oh no Mr. Newhart I'm
sure they all believe it's really you on the line
[pause] . . .

I guess I could ask you something only you would
know. [pause] . . . Yea, that's right. If only you know
it . . . they wouldn't know if you got it right. . .

Hello? What's that ma'ma? . . . Three dollars for the
next three minutes? I don't have . . . this is a cell phone.
There's no slot to deposit three . . . Hello? . . . Hello?
. . . She hung up.

This homage to those one-sided telephone conversations which made Bob Newhart famous brought the house down. It was met with vigorous laughter and very warm generous applause. Benchley Society Chairman David Trumbull later invited me back to entertain at future awards presentations, "forever."

After New York, it was back to work for me. It started with a big law suit. Half way through we got continued to next spring.

Oh, and, you may have noticed that my running mate Hank Rasco and I lost the presidential election again. Next time we've got to figure out how to actually get our names on those "ballot" thingies. The rest of the story is at http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/digbyrasco2008.htm. Rasco and I haven't officially conceded yet, so I think technically we are still in line for the Oval Office if Obama drops out or something.

Sincerely, your pal,
Horace J. Digby

Time For Come Campaigning

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The Digby's Go Dancing!

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Bob Newhart Names "Mad" Kane Winner of 2008 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor

LOS ANGELES, CA. -- Bob Newhart—winner of three Grammy Awards, a Peabody, five Emmys, seven Golden Globes, and the Mark Twain Prize for Humor, author of the New York Times best-selling show-business autobiography, I Shouldn't Even Be Doing This, and perhaps the most celebrated comedian-humorist-actor-author and former accountant in show-business history—taking time out from his busy schedule to serve as finalist judge, has named New York City-based humor columnist, satirist, and past National Society of Newspaper Columnists honoree, Madeleine Begun Kane as winner of the 2008 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor.

In a personal note Newhart told Kane her essay, "Guide for The Opera Impaired," finished first because it was "the most Benchleyesque. . . "I don't know if Robert Benchley ever commented on operas in his writings, but it is certainly a subject I suspect he would have handled exactly as you did," Newhart said.

Newhart enjoyed judging the essays, "It certainly brought back the memories of when I first started reading Robert Benchley and the joy his writing brought," Newhart said, but, "the judging was difficult because the finalists were so good."

Newhart has always credited Benchley as a major influence on his humor. In an earlier interview with past Robert Benchley Society award winner Horace J. Digby on A3Radio Newhart said, "Really good writing is timeless. Benchley created—like the persona Jack Benny created—a man who was very much full of himself, but in a self-deprecating way."

In his book, I Shouldn't Even Be Doing This, Newhart tells readers, "My influences came from the more absurdist side of life. I've never forgotten the time I heard that a lady in Britain published her correspondence with Winston Churchill, so Robert Benchley decided to publish his correspondence with George Bernard Shaw. Benchley's correspondence consisted of letters accusing Shaw of taking his umbrella at the theater and asking for it to be returned. Shaw kept writing back saying, 'I don't know who you are and I don't have your umbrella.'"

In a recent letter Newhart told Digby, "Larry Gelbart, writer on Your Show of Shows, A Funny Thing Happened on The Way to The Forum and others too numerous to remember, once wrote, the comedy writer (and comedian) sees the world through a different lens. There is no question in my mind that Benchley helped construct the comedic lens through which I view the world. I think his [Benchley's] influence is certainly discernable in 'Abe Lincoln' and 'King Kong.'"

"I was a voracious reader of the works of Robert Benchley," Newhart wrote in I Shouldn't Be Doing This, "and at least on a subconscious level, one of Benchley's essays influenced me to go to law school. It was about a Walter Mitty-type character who . . . made an absolute fool out of the opposing counsel to the point where the jury was applauding and even the judge was enjoying the show."

Fortunately for the world of humor Benchley's "more absurdist" influence on Newhart won out.

Kane's essays have appeared in Family Circle, America Online, Newsday, The Chicago Tribune, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Miami Herald,, The Houston Chronicle, The New York Times, The L. A. Times Syndicate, Knight-Rider/Tribune News Service, and on National Public Radio. She bills herself, as "Mad" Kane, political satirist, parodist and recovering lawyer. Kane holds a Law degree from St. John's University School of Law and a Bachelors of Fine Arts in music from the California Institute of the Arts. Her music studies led to an oboist chair in the Dallas Symphony and a faculty position in the Music Department of Southern Methodist University.

In 1995 Kane's humor was honored by the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her website, madkane.com, has received accolades from USA Today, Shift Magazine, Maxim Magazine, The Guardian and other media.

On learning Newhart had ranked her essay first, Kane was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, saying only, "Yikes! I can't believe it! Thanks! . . . I'm still in shock . . ." Then, composing herself, Kane said, "Now that I've actually won I'm thrilled and honored, but being Jewish, I'm still anxious," alluding to the limerick she wrote celebrating being named a finalist:

"I can barely maintain my sobriety
Cuz the great Robert Benchley Society
Held a contest and wow,
I'm a finalist now.
Will I win the top prize? High anxiety!"

Benchley Society Medalists

The second, third and fourth place finalists selected by Newhart to receive the Robert Benchley Society Medal of Merit for 2008 are: Mike Tuck of Hopkins, MN, in second place for his essay, "Welcome To America;" Jesse Levy of North Hollywood, CA, in third place for, "How to Watch a Sad Movie and Retain Your Manliness;" and Denise G. Weeks of Richardson, TX, in fourth place for "How to Start Your Own Band." The winning essays can be viewed at robertbenchley.org/competition.

Denise Weeks (a.k.a. Shalanna Collins) a home-grown Texas humorist, novelist, pianist, belly dancer, baton twirler, software engineer, National Merit Scholar, and graduate of Southern Methodist University, is also a true Robert Benchley lover. One of her hobbies is collecting Robert Benchley first editions.
Weeks' husband first advised her not to get too excited about "this contest thing." But when he learned Bob Newhart was reading her essay, hubby quickly forgot his own advice. Weeks' reaction to placing in the top four was, "Aaaaa . . . I believe a 'Yay!' is in order now!'

"Hooray! Thank you so much (and many thanks to Mr. Newhart)," said third-place winner, Jesse Levy, a New York City transplant to Los Angeles. "I am thrilled beyond words," he continued. "In fact, right now I'm making sounds to express my thrilledness but they can't be conveyed in an email without doing some small damage to the keyboard."

Levy keenly appreciates that, "Essays are tough, especially at 500 words. I wrote my entry in a Benchleyesq frenzy. I was reading a lot of Sweet Old Bob at the time and the influence shows. Benchley has always been my favorite humorist."

Levy said he was "absolutely thrilled" just to learn that Bob Newhart was going to be reading his entry. "To go from being an accountant to being a stand-up comic has always been a dream of mine," Levy said, in homage to Newhart's early career. Then, after reflecting for a moment on his own career which includes filmmaker, actor, radio disk jockey, writer, director and humorist, Levy added, "I guess I'd better start hitting those accounting books."

Mike Tuck, of Hopkins, MN, had this to say about being first runner-up, "Thanks for the wonderful news. I assume this means I get my $10 entry fee back."

Tuck first read Robert Benchley 30 years ago and immediately realized he'd found his favorite author. Even today "All who value humor look up to Robert Benchley and wonder, 'How the hell does he make it look so easy?' . . . For this Benchley aficionado it’s a bit numbing having my name linked with his," Tuck said.

Tuck began writing humor as a young man growing up in Minneapolis when he started selling a few jokes and gags, soon earning a tidy sum of $30 a week, "and this is back when $30 a week was like $20 a week," Tuck said.

"Knowing Bob Newhart actually read something I wrote (even if he barely got through the first paragraph before crumpling and tossing it) is intimidating. I have grown up with Newhart's albums, stand-up, movies and television to understand and appreciate what a brilliant humorist he is," Tuck said. "This would be the highlight of my career if I had one," Tuck said.


Robert Benchley

Robert Benchley rose to fame in the 1920s writing for Harvard Lampoon, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Life magazine and as humor columnist for the Hearst newspaper chain. Benchley appeared in more than eighty short films and feature length motion pictures. He is credited, along with Dorothy Parker, with founding the notorious Algonquin Round Table.

Benchley and his colleagues, all members of the famed Algonquin Round Table luncheon group, dominated print media for nearly two decades, creating a new face for American humor.
Many of America’s brightest comic talents including, this year's finalist judge Bob Newhart, Dave Barry, Woody Allen, Steve Martin, Erma Bombeck, Shelly Berman, Jonathan Winters, Richard Pryor, Steve Allen, Russell Baker and Dan Rowan acknowledged Benchley's impact on their work,

"The book that most impressed me when I was growing up and influenced my approach to comedy would have been any book by Robert Benchley, or specifically My Ten Years in a Quandary," Newhart said. "I was very much influenced by Robert Benchley."

Benchley's warm, self-effacing comic writing style made it nearly the template for modern humor essays, said humor writer Ed Tasca. Tasca holds the singular distinction of placing among the top four Robert Benchley Society entries for three consecutive years.

About the Competition

Other finalists in 2008 are, in alphabetical order, Cornelius "Con" Chapman of Weston, MA, Eileen Mitchell of Palatine, IL, Joseph Nebus of Jackson, NJ, Brenda Pontiff of Los Angeles, CA, John Thom of Los Angeles, CA, and Sharon Elizabeth Wood of Cary, NC.

The Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor competition is open to amateurs and professionals alike. W. Bruce Cameron, whose book Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter inspired John Ritter's Emmy Award winning television series for ABC/Disney, and who's newest book, Eight Simple Rules for Marrying My Daughter, is now in book stores everywhere, took top Benchley Society Award honors in 2006. Last year's top award went to Daniel Montville of Oak Park, Illinois for his hilarious essay, How to Write a Book.

"All entries are read blind, so neither Bob Newhart, nor any of the preliminary judges
knew who wrote any of the essays. That way the competition is entirely merit based," said 2005 Robert Benchley Society Award winner Horace J. Digby, who has returned to help with judging in the past three years.

This year's preliminary judges include, Benchley Society member Dwain Buck, 2005 Benchley Society award winner Horace J. Digby, author of Robert Benchley An Annotated Bibliography Gordon E. Ernst, writer Eileen Forster Keck, puzzle designer Chris Morgan, radio personality Tom Saunders, and Robert Benchley Society chairperson David Trumbull.

"I'm happy for the winners," said finalist Brenda Pontiff, "but darn! I will enter again next year and see if I make the top ten one more time. I'll be the poor man's Ed Tasca - he placed 3 times, maybe I can get on the top ten list 3 times."

David Trumbull, the Robert Benchley Society's national chairperson, joined in Newhart's sentiments. "I believe Mr. Benchley would be pleased to see how this year's contestants are keeping alive his tradition of warm, genial, witty humor," Trumbull said.
"I hope future judges are as lucky as I was in the quality of their finalists," Newhart concluded.

Marie' Digby - For the Record

Seattle, WA -- Last year the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) ran a front page story about Marié Digby (Say: Ma-ree-AY), suggesting that her popularity was due to a "secret" album deal she had signed with Disney's Hollywood Records.

In order of importance:

1) Digby's "secret" album deal was not secret. EVERYONE who had paid attention to her rise to stardom already knew she was going to do a professionally produced album. That was part of the prize for the Pantene Pro Voice competition she had won.

2) How does anything "secret" makes an entertainer more popular? The WSJ does not explain this magical phenomena. Apparently the idea is that Marié Digby's YouTube and MySpace fans would have liked her home-made recordings and videos less, if she had not been secretly signed with Disney. This may launch a whole new mode of stardom. Secret stardom. Hey, maybe I can be one of them.

I discovered Marié Digby while doing a vanity search on the net for my own name, "Horace J. Digby." It was 2005. I had to join MySpace to listen to her songs. It was love at first sound. After a few e-mails we stayed in touch. One of the reasons is people contact me asking about Marié. A talent booker for a major NYC hotel and chain. He discovered Marié while listening to a podcast of an interview I'd done with actress, singer Donna Coney Island. finding Marié mentioned on my website, he assumed I was her father.

"Why not her husband?" I wanted to know.

"I can see why the Robert Benchley Society gave you that humor aware," he said.

I hadn't mean it to be funny. Marié and I would make a cute couple.

Her MySpace and Youtube hits kept growing by leaps and bounds from a few thousand in 2005 to millions the last time I looked. Meanwhile I have 72 friends (including Tom, and, as my pal Twylla points out, a bunch of my friends (like Mark Twain) are dead people). Marié's search engine popularity is growing too. "Digby" used to give mostly hits for me. Now almost all of them are for "Marié Digby." Even the hits linking to my websites seem to be for Marié.

Everytime I visit MySpace there are more Marié Digby songs. She writes faster and better than Lennon and McCartney (and there were two of them).

The weird thing is, I still love her music, even after the "secret" Disney album was released, in April, debuting at #29 on Billboard's top 200 (the same week that Leona Lewis, who edged out Ray Quinn for number one on Great Britain's equivalent of Star Search, hit #1).

When Digby's tour dates came out (her tour, not mine) I started working on my boss to send me to Neumos in Seattle, WA. And he did.

The Seattle crowd went wild for Marié and also for her co-headliner, singer songwriter Eric Hutchinson, who wonderfully rounded out the bill. Each of Marié's songs clearly touches her fans.

One of the bouncers at Neumos told me, "This isn't our usual crowd. We usually get indie rockers. This group looks it's from the East side."

"You mean they have stocks and bonds?" I asked, seeking clarification about his "East side" comment. [Microsoft's Bill Gates and Paul Allen live on the "East side." In fact, there was a Microsoft gathering at another club just across the street.]

"No. I have stocks and bonds," the bouncer said. "I mean they look and dress like people from the East side."

Another fan, I'll guess in her early 20s, told me she had pre-ordered Marié's album as soon as it was available, and purchased tickets to the show at Neumos the day they went on sale. I asked if it bothered her that the album was secret. She just stared at me like I had said something really stupid in public.

Marié Digby's fan mix in Seattle also included at least one banker, a structural engineer, and a few of their friends, all thirty-something. One of them was asked by the bouncer to quit taking photos, because, "the promoter doesn't want people taking pictures with high-end cameras."

Singer songwriter Eric Hutchinson, Marié's co-headliner on their twenty-five-city tour, is a fantastic entertainer. He even does an impersonation of Cher (no kidding). Hutchinson really knows how to work a crowd to fever pitch. Well at least as feverish as people from the "East side" get, apparently.

After chiding the crowd, "You know, it's alright to have fun," Hutchinson added, "It's even alright to pretend." But by the conclusion of his portion of the evening, Hutchinson was proclaiming, "This is perhaps the best crowd response I've ever had . . . Maybe even the best crowd ever at any concert in Seattle history."

Introducing his final songs, he told the crowd, with practiced mock sincerity, "I feel a little nervous . . . like a pitcher with a shutout going. I just need to keep throwing strikes." He assured us that if we could keep our intensity going for just two more songs, this would definitely be the "all-time best concert in Seattle, EVER!"

The crowd loved it, even those who suspected Hutchinson had probably told these same sweet lies the night before in Spokane, and might tell them again to the crowd waiting in Portland the night after.

Digby took the stage to squeals of delight, and not just from the pre-teens. It was fun watching her fans sing along with the tunes. I even found myself joining in more than a time or two. Marié Digby had written every song on her play list in Seattle, except "Umbrella."

After Digby's Youtube home recording cover of "Umbrella" began getting radio air play in several major markets Disney released a studio single a few months before the album would come out. In fact, the single came out before the WSJ article. Hollywood Records probably wanted to be sure that their rising star actually had copyrights to the song radio stations were already calling her first hit, Disney did what it could to fix the problem.

Digby's audience enthusiastically sang along with Marié Digby version of "Umbrella," joining to help with the important, "Under my umbrella, ella, ella, ella, aye, aye, aye," part.

Marié Digby left stage after performing her hit "Say it Again," but the crowd wouldn't quit applauding. After what seemed like a long time (much longer than musicians usually wait) her drummer and guitar player came back, and Marié joined them.

Encores always seem awkward to me. The audience, almost on que, keeps clapping, and then, usually way too quickly, one of the musicians shows his head from behind a curtains. Then, almost as if in a hurry to get back out on stage before the applause die down, the artists rush back to play, surprise, surprise, their number-one hit single that everyone actually came to hear in the first place (but which they, as if by accident, had "forgotten" to include it in the show).

Marié Digby didn't do that. She had already played her big songs, "Umbrella," "Say it Again," "Girlfriend" and the rest.

Instead, she finally came back out on stage seeming truly flattered and perhaps just a bit embarrassed as she admitted, "I never do encores. I think they are stupid. But you guys are really genuine."

After her encore, as Marié was thanking the crowd again, a young girl near the stage quietly asked Marié to play what happens to be the first Digby song I had heard, Mariés hauntingly beautiful, "Miss Invisible."

"I don't actually play that on tour," Marié said, "Well maybe once or twice . . . but . . . The band doesn't know it, but if you really want I can give it a try on the keyboard." The cheering crowd sealed the deal. But Marié didn't start singing right away. She told us the song was autobiographical, about her habit in junior high of hiding alone under the bleachers at lunch time. "There's a gril who sits under the bleachers . . ." she sang and the audience reaction gave me goose bumps.

The next night the tour pushed on to Portland, OR. Digby fans poured out in force at the Hawthorn Theater. The age spectrum was the same as in Seattle, with perhaps a few younger and one or two older fans this time. As a professional musician of 25 years, I find it unusual for an artist to have such a wide sweep of age appeal. Portland responded famoiusly to her hits, "Say It Again," "The Voice On the Radio," "Umbrella," "Girlfriend" and the rest. True to her word, Digby didn't play "Miss Invisible." And, although there was sustained applause following her show, Portland saw no encore.

I also found a pocket of fans who had come out to see Eric Hutchinson. "I saw him fill at a Jazz show a year or so ago," a thirty-something music enthusiast and computer programmer from Camus, WA. told me. "Hutchinson wasn't on the line-up. He was just filling in for another performer who couldn't make it. He was fantastic. When I heard he was coming to Portland, I had to see him again."

Digby and Hutchinson make a wonderfully complimentary mix. The Camus computer programmer summed it up for me, "This is great. I came out to hear one performer and I get to discover another I enjoy just as much. It's a real bonus."

Digby's fans expressed the same sentiment about Hutchinson. They are a great melding of styles and talents. I'd definitely go see either or both of them again, even in back-to-back shows (which I guess I just did).

-- Horace J. Digby (no relation to Marié)
http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/
http://www.horacedigby.com/

Bob Newhart Judges Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor Finalists

LOS ANGELES, CA. -- Ten happy humor writers are busy chewing their finger nails this week, each hoping their essay will tickle the funny bone of comic genius Bob Newhart, finalist judge for the 2008 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor competition.

Bob Newhart, winner of three Grammy awards, a Peabody Award, an Emmy and the Mark Twain Prize for Humor, making him perhaps the most celebrated comedian, writer, humorist, actor, entertainer and former certified public accountant in show business. But this time he has taken on the difficult and amusing task of selecting and the top four winning entries in the 2008 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor–a task ably handled for the past two years by Pulitzer Prize winning humorist Dave Barry.

"I think really good writing is timeless," Newhart said, referring to the work of one of his favorite humor writers, the renown Robert Benchley, whose liked to present a public image, "like the persona Jack Benny created—a man who was very much full of himself, but in a self-deprecating way."

"The book that most impressed me when I was growing up and influenced my approach to comedy would have been any book by Robert Benchley, or specifically My Ten Years in a Quandary," Newhart said. "I was very much influenced by Robert Benchley."

"We had a delightful time selecting our top ten finalists this year," said Robert Benchley Society chairperson David Trumbull. "It is a true honor to turn the job of selecting the top four essays over to Bob Newhart."

"All of the entries are read blind. No one knows who wrote which essay until the judging is finished. This keeps the competition entirely merit based," said Horace J. Digby, a past Benchley Society Award winner who has returned to help with judging for the past three years.

The 2008 finalists, in alphabetical order, are: Cornelius "Con" Chapman of Weston, MA; Madeleine Begun Kane of Bayside, NY; Jesse Levy of North Hollywood, CA; Eileen Mitchell of Palatine, IL; Joseph Nebus of Jackson, NJ; Brenda Pontiff of Los Angeles, CA; John Thom of Los Angeles, CA; Mike Tuck of Hopkins, MN; Denise G. Weeks of Richardson, TX; and Sharon Elizabeth Wood of Cary, NC.

This years finalists are excited to be selected.

Chapman was so inspired to have his work read by Newhart that he shared the following whimsical life ambition: "If I ever become successful enough as a writer to be asked what I consider to be the greatest artistic achievement of Western civilization, I intend to reply, 'Shakespeare's Hamlet, Michelangelo's Pieta, and the Thanksgiving episode from the second Bob Newhart Show."

Levy had this to say, "To know that Bob Newhart is reading my essay is a great pleasure. I have been a fan of his since I first saw him on TV doing one of his stand-up routines. To go from accountant to stand-up comic has always been a dream of mine. I guess I'd better start hitting those accounting books."

Newhart's selection and ranking of the top four winners for this year's Robert Benchley Society Awards will be announced the week of July 6th.

The Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor is an international writing competition dedicated to the warm, self-effacing comic writing style that made Benchley so beloved during his lifetime. Benchley has influenced so many of our most popular and successful comic minds over the past 50 years, said humor writer Ed Tasca, who holds the singular distinction of placing among the top four winning entries for three consecutive years.

Many of America’s brightest comic talents including, this year's finalist judge Bob Newhart, Dave Barry, Woody Allen, Steve Martin, Erma Bombeck, Shelly Berman, Jonathan Winters, Richard Pryor, Steve Allen, Russell Baker and Dan Rowan acknowledged Benchley's impact on their work.

Benchley rose to fame in the 1920s writing for Harvard Lampoon, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Life magazine and as humor columnist for the Hearst newspaper chain. Benchley appeared in more than eighty short films and feature length motion pictures. He is credited, along with Dorothy Parker, with founding the notorious Algonquin Round Table.

Benchley and his colleagues, all members of the famed Algonquin Round Table luncheon group, dominated print media for nearly two decades, creating a new face for American humor.

This year's preliminary judges include: Benchley Society member Dwain Buck; 2005 Benchley Society award winner Horace J. Digby; author of Robert Benchley An Annotated Bibliography Gordon E. Ernst; Dorothy Parker Society of New York chairperson and author of A Journey into Dorothy Parker's New York Kevin Fitzpatrick; MIT genius Steven Jens; writer Eileen Forster Keck; Robert Benchley aficionados David and Sharon Lyon; puzzle designer Chris Morgan; radio personality Tom Saunders; and Robert Benchley Society chairperson David Trumbull.

The competition is open to amateurs and professionals alike. W. Bruce Cameron, whose book Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter inspired John Ritter's Emmy Award winning television series for ABC/Disney, and who's newest book, Eight Simple Rules for Marrying My Daughter, is now in book stores everywhere, took top Benchley Society Award honors in 2006. Last year's top award went to Daniel Montville of Oak Park, Illinois for his hilarious essay, How to Write a Book.

A Father's Advice

By Horace J. Digby

Yesterday I saw a five-year-old with his father in tow, buying school supplies—crayons, pencils, rulers, protractors . . . a slide rule . . . "I need one of these too, Dad," the boy kept saying.

Thirteen years earlier that was my son and me, although, I don't recall buying Horace Jr. a photocopier (preschool is a lot tougher these days).

Last week, Horace Jr. left for college. Of course that meant a father-son talk. Not "The Talk." We did that years ago on stage at the Columbia Theater.

Me: Let's have a little talk.
Horace Jr.: "The Talk?"
Me: Do you know what I mean when I say, "The facts of life?"
Horace Jr.: Oh. You want to go to the horse races again . . .

This time we found a bench on campus. "Son," I said, "there are a few things I'd like to share with you."

Horace Jr. was alert. His pupils enlarged. He was interested.

"Sure Dad. What do you have in mind?" This was an important moment.

"First of all, Son," I said, "oak has visible grain."

Horace Jr. looked surprised. So did I. What sort of father-son talk was this? I don't even do woodworking.

"Silk clings to your finger tips as you brush over it." What? I had to know more about life than this. But I plowed ahead, grasping for something meaningful.

"Cotton breathes, but it wrinkles, although wool holds its shape." That's when I quit. Next I'd be telling him how to tie a four-in-hand, or pack a sports coat. I was becoming a butler.

My son looked incredulous.

"I know." I said. "I'd like to be profound . . . but, I think this is all I know."

"That's it?" Horace Jr. demanded. "I've waited eighteen years, to learn about laundry?"

"And oak!" I said.

"What about relationships? What about finding the right person? What about spirituality, or at least parallel parking?"

"Keep lights and darks in separate wash loads." It just came out, like Tourette's syndrome, only less interesting.

"Just fine," Horace Jr. said. "My roommate learned about stock trading. Tad's dad showed him how to survive in the wilderness. I was expecting at least some job advice, or warnings."

"Warnings? What warnings?" I asked.

"How should I know? You're the dad. Don't you know any warnings?"

"Turn your wheels toward the curb when you park." I blurted out.

"Sheesh!"

Horace Jr. was right. He deserved more. This stuff was lame, but my mind was blank. This happened last year when I needed ideas for that column about Mt. St. Helens. I finally held a contest . . . Hmmm . . .

Last year Craig Z. Azaluen took first place with a plan to move Mt. St. Helens to Kansas. This year, it could be you. Just come up with some great father-son advice for Horace Jr. First prize will be dinner and a movie for four, at the Kelso Theater Pub.

All you have to do is send your best tip, bit of advice, or life lesson, to Horace J. Digby at hjdigby@lexingtonfilm.com, or mail it to the Columbia River Reader, P. O. Box 1643, Rainier, OR 97048

Your entry will be judged on originality. It doesn't even have to be funny (although my next column will be better if it is). How about that?

-- Horace J. Digby
http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

Writing My Own Pantoum

by Horace J. Digby


I was never big on poetry. But when a writer friend named Luana Krause told me about a new kind of poem based on geometry, I liked it. It's called a pantoum (pan-toom). Actually they date back to the 19th century, but to me any poem that doesn't begin, "There was a young man from Killarney," is new.

Pantoums are six verses long, and each verse has four lines. Poets call these verses "stanzas," but trust me, they're just paragraphs. In a pantoum, the second and fourth lines of each stanza repeat as the first and third lines of the next stanza. Clear enough? Luana had a chart. The first and third lines of the first stanza end up clustered in the last stanza. Nobody likes a clustered last stanza (well, except for Sitting Bull).

Here's that chart: http://arb.nzcer.org.nz/nzcer3/english/written/3200-999/wl3236.htm.

The first line of my pantoum was easy. It was also the last line, so I copied it to the bottom of the page. The second line was repeated a the first line of the next stanza. I wrote new lines every so often, and pasted them wherever the chart said. Remember the chart?

Soon I had a dull ache in my cheek bones and my temples were throbbing. But I kept going. I didn't stop, because I was . . .

Writing my own pantoum.
The lines are all hopping about.
Why the first line goes where the last lines goes,
I don't think I can figure that out.
The lines are all hopping about.
Doesn't this thing need to rhyme?
I don't think I can figure that out.
Now the second line is the fifth line.
Doesn't this thing need to rhyme?
My brain is beginning to cramp.
Now the second line is the fifth line.
Who the hell's idea was that?

My brain is beginning to cramp.
Will my keyboard be melting down too?
Who the hell's idea was that?
I've been writing this poem since noon.

Will my keyboard be melting down too?
Tell me now, if anyone one knows.
I've been writing this poem since noon.
Will this riddle see me to my doom?

Tell me now, if anyone one knows.
Why the first line goes where the last line goes.
Will this riddle see me to my doom?
Writing my own pantoum.
What you see is my tenth draft. I'm still not happy with that line about "doom." But if I do say so myself, my poem doesn't even look like a limerick.

When I read it to my son, Adam, he said, "It's great Dad." There was genuine respect in his voice, although he did wince at the Sitting Bull joke.

"What about the Killarney joke?"

"It should be 'Nantucket'," Adam said cheerily. But his enthusiasm was waning.

"I saw you wince at 'Sitting Bull' . . . "

"Wince is a polite word for what I did. But it's fine, Dad."

"Let me re-read this line about . . ."

"PUT THE PANTOUM DOWN!!!" Adam said, sounding like the commander of a SWAT team. He had unholstered his Smith & Wesson 340PD DAO J-Frame Magnum, but the laser site wasn't on. There was no red dot.

This may seem weird, but that little red dot is how I tell when an article's finished.

-- Horace J. Digby

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

Spellling - The New Democracy

by Horace J. Digby
Winner of the Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor


Google® is my new spell checker. Just type in any version of a word and see how many "hits" you get. It's so grand and ever so democratic, letting the Internet vote on spelling. Even the word "dictionary" is beginning to sound so . . . well, dictatorial.

Here's how my system works. Take a word, like "dichotomy." If you Google® it as "d-i-c-h-o-t-e-m-y" (with out the hyphens of course) you get eight 813 hits. This means 813 people think you spelled it right. But "d-i-c-h-o-t-o-m-y" with a second "o" gets 12,600,000 votes. Isn't that great?

Sure 813 people think you are wrong, but that other 12,600,000 could beat the phonics out of those guys in a fair fight.

And the next time your son or daughter gets marked down for spelling "dichotomy" with an "e," this data proves that little Johnny or Barbara is entitled to partial credit at least. Dan Quayle is demanding a recount on his "potato" goof back in 1992. His spelling, "potatoe," gets a respectable 1,300,000 votes on Google.® But then, "optato" (the typo I entered on my first try) got 924,000.

The point is (with all due respect to Webster, Cambridge and Oxford) dictionaries are a thing of the past. Instead of just seeing what Webster thinks, now we can find out how everybody spells a word. Dictionaries no longer serve any function, except of course if you want to know what a word means.

Search engines don't work well for that. Take "dichotomy." To me it sounds like an operation . . . "They're going to take my dichotomy out next Tuesday.

When I Google® it there's this big a split of opinion. It's like two different schools of thought—two entrenched camps—exist around the meaning of "dichotomy."

One down-side of using search engines for spell checkers is, you have to come up with alternate spellings—especially if the your first try doesn't get many votes. A good rule of thumb is, if you get less than ten million hits, you're spelling it wrong. On the other hand, just try looking up "soriasis" in Webster's.® You'll never find it. On Google® it gets 52,800 hits.

Andrew Jackson said, "It is a damn poor mind that cannot think of more than one way to spell a word."

I actually found five versions of Jackson's quote on the net. One site left out the word "damn." Heck, even Nixon deleted expletives. But in this case, the title of the site with this "D" word sensitivity is, "A Hell of a Parentheses." No kidding.
Another site attributed the quote to Thomas Jefferson. Many things are attributed to Jefferson recently.
I've figure Jackson's original quote was probably: "It is a damn poor mind indeed that can think of only one way to misquote a President."

-- Horace J. Digby
http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

A Letter From The Government

by Horace J. Digby

It all started with a letter from the government. You know, the government I mean, ". . . we're here to help you, etc. etc. . ." That government. To be exact, the letter was from the Social Security Administration.

My wife, Sharon, read it first, and then came running into my study. "Horace," she said, "this letter says you will be paid $1,382 a month if you retire at age sixty-two, but if you die today, I get $1,896 each month." Sharon was breathless.

"Great news honey," I said, trying hard to disguise my alarm. "It's nice to know they are looking out for us."

But I was concerned. First of all, why would the Social Security Administration be willing to pay a bounty of $514 a month to get me out of the way? And second, was that a blunt instrument I saw in Sharon's hand?

The blunt instrument turned out to be a pair of house slippers. But the letter had me worried. I've never given the government any trouble—at least not until now. So why was Social Security coming after me? I thought we were friends. They always got a part of my pay check, and one day, when I retire, I figured they would give me a little something in return. Sure, it would probably only be a note explaining that they spent my money, but that's no reason to put a price on my head.

I'm the kind of guy who complies with government regulations, and not that they're right, either. Some people worry about Iran getting the bomb. I'm much more worried about the Republicans already having the bomb. And as long as they have it, I'll cooperate with any government agency that asks.

I told my pal Steven Barnes about the cash incentive Social Security was offering, and he was concerned too.

"You take vitamins don't you?" Steven asked.

"Yeah, I take those little easily opened gelcaps filled with a nondescript white powder. Why do you ask?"

"Hmmm. . ." Steven said, cocking an eyebrow.

In the good old days Federal agencies were too busy fighting the "Red Menace," to mess with me. But now, with the Berlin Wall, the Iron Curtain and the old Morrison house coming down. It seemed I was next?

All I could do was prepare. It's amazing how much you can learn watching old mobster movies:
1. Always check under your car before you start it;
2. Always face the door in Italian restaurants; and
3. Capote is not an old mobster movie. It turns out that Truman Capote and Al Capone are two entirely different people who aren't even related.

I've got to go now. Scarface was due back at the video store an hour ago. Besides, I need to pick out a new vitamin pill. Oh, and if the Social Security Administration asks, you haven't seen me.

-- Horace J. Digby --

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

Daylight Savings Time

by Horace J. Digby
Winner of the Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor


I can never remember which way to change the clocks. Some people gain an hour each fall. It takes me more than an hour to figure out what time it is. I know the rule, "Spring forward. Fall Back." That's great in theory, but it doesn't work.

Let's say you have an eight o'clock meeting that gets moved forward one hour. That would be seven o'clock. Right? Forward means ahead. Shouldn't daylight time work the same way?

And when we "fall back" to . . . well, I guess it's called, "daylight losing time," shouldn't we move the clocks back? If your eight o'clock flight gets moved back one hour, it leaves at nine o'clock, right? Not seven o'clock.

At our house my son Adam sets the clocks (except of course the ones I personally use). This spring he moved them from eight o'clock back to nine o'clock. It was definitely a "spring forward" situation, so why didn't he move the clocks forward to seven. I figured our clocks were two hours off. But like any right thinking man would do in this situation, I asked my wife. And like any right thinking women, my wife told me I had it wrong. Sharon pointed out that our "atomic clock," which gets time directly from the official-government-atomic-radio waives coming out of Denver, Colorado, agreed with Adam. She was pretty they were right.

Sharon also told me the time had actually changed at two a.m., but she wasn't sure if it changed at "the old two a.m." or "the new two a.m." I worried about that too, until Sharon finally admitted she was just making fun of me. Even so, the daylight-savings-time puzzle was solved, in just under two minutes.

That's when I saw the message on my computer saying its clock had reset itself. I expected it to agree with Adam, Sharon and the "atomic clock," but it didn't. The computer said it was seven o'clock. It also said we were in Tijuana.

I thought it was nine, or possibly ten o'clock. My wife, my son and the "atomic clock" said it was eight o'clock. But my computer, which gets its information directly from the richest man in the world, said it was seven o'clock. Who should I believe?

So I did what I do every year, which is, arrange to be everywhere an hour early. It only takes a week or two for a general consensus to emerge. Then I set my clocks.

I hope you guessed right with your clocks. But if you got it wrong, don't worry. You'll get to try again in six months.

-- Horace J. Digby --
hjdigby@lexingtonfilm.com

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved.

Adventure Cat®

by Horace J. Digby

My pal George Ford has produced a DVD for cats. No kidding. It's called Adventure Cat.® The idea is that your cat can watch this DVD, and then . . . well, I guess that's the whole idea.

George's company, Feathered Phonics, started with a CD for teaching canaries to sing. I figured he would follow up with a CD to teach goldfish to swim, but instead he created Adventure Cat® and it's selling like hot cakes. (No kidding. check it out at, http://www.featheredphonics.com/
adventureseries.htm)

Obviously a DVD for cats will appeal to people who are crazy enough (about their cats) to buy them presents. In the past those people were pretty much limited to buying cat nip. But what kind of example is that for the Youth of America?

"Ok Bobby, for her birthday, let's get Tabby stoned."

And what if Tabby really likes the stuff. Where will she find more. It's an ugly picture: your cat, hanging out in some sleazy inner-city alley, trying to score a dime bag of "nip."

With George's product, you and your cat have a choice. You can just says no? Now, instead of turning Tabby into a junkie, you can turn her into a couch potato. Sure that means more paws fighting over the remote, but at least Tabby won't have to go to rehab again. Besides George is working on a special remote just for cats. (I made that part up.)

Adventure Cat® is so popular George is already releasing Adventure Dog.® It's the same concept, except, you guessed it, this one is for dogs.

I thought this whole idea was silly. What sort of people are going to plunk down hard-earned unemployment checks to buy a DVD for pets? But then I remembered Billy Bass®. Remember that stupid mechanical singing-fish wall plaque? Well, Billy raked in pazoolies a plenty a few years back. (My own mother-in-law bought three of them—for me.)

And Billy Bass® was a wall plaque. When your friends came over they could see that stupid fish hanging on your wall.

"Did you see that?" they would say later, "Lynette has one of those stupid fish hanging on her wall . . ." (I don't know why they would call you "Lynette." They're your friends.)

George's DVD is a lot better than those wall plaques because when friends come over, you can hide it. It will fit in with all your other DVDs and CDs. No one will ever know you bought one. Isn't that great? It's the sort of thing builds a real feeling of pride.

"Sure, maybe I know I'm dumb enough to buy a DVD for cats," you will say, "but none of my friends know it."

The only down side is that your dog and cat might become couch potatoes. But next year George could market a special kitty-couch just for Tabby. Fido will probably want a Barcalounger®.

-- Horace J. Digby --
Copyright © 2005 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved
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Dave Barry to Judge Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor

by Horace J. Digby

FEBRUARY 23, 2006, BOSTON -- Dave Barry, Pulitzer Prize winning humorist, author of the New York Times best seller, Dave Barry's Money Secrets, and life-long fan of Robert Benchley, has agreed to judge finalist entries in the 2006 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor competition sponsored by the Robert Benchley Society.

"We're looking for the next Robert Benchley," said David Trumbull, chairman of the Robert Benchley Society, and Dave Barry, America's leading Humorist, has agreed to help."

"If you have a funny bone and can write, you can be a part of it. All you have to do is write a short original article (500 words or less), in the style of Robert Benchley and send it to the Robert Benchley Society, no later than April 15th. We and Dave Barry will do the rest," Trumbull said.

The Robert Benchley Society, a not-for-profit organization, was founded in Boston, Massachusetts in 2003. It has since grown to include members in several countries. Information about the Society may be found at http://www.robertbenchley.org/.

Robert Benchley (Grandfather of Peter Benchley who wrote Jaws ) rose to fame as a leading humorist in the 1920s writing for Harvard Lampoon, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, where he shared an office with Dorothy Parker, Life magazine, and as a humor columnist for the Hearst Newspapers. Benchley was also notorious as a member of the Algonquin Round Table. Today's leading humorists, including Dave Barry, Woody Allen, Bob Newhart, Russell Baker, and Steve Martin, gratefully acknowledge Robert Benchley's influence on their work. http://nrbench.home.mindspring.com/ http://www.answers.com/topic/robert-benchley

It is easy to find quotations by Barry extolling Benchley as his humor hero.
"Robert Benchley is my idol," Barry told The Writer Magazine. "I've been reading him since I was a kid, and still return to his essays regularly for inspiration." http://www.writermag.com/wrt/default.aspx?c=a&id=850

In an interview for Time Magazine, Barry told Jeff Chu that the biggest influence, by far, on his humor, besides his mother was Robert Benchley. "I always wanted to write like him . . ." Barry said. http://www.iaisnd.com/archivednews.cfm?id=533
In a review of Nathaniel Benchley's book, The Benchley Round Up, Barry said, "My favorite book is any collection of the columns of the great Robert Benchley. My dad had a bunch of Benchley books around the house when I was a boy, and I read them voraciously - that's when I realized I wanted to be a humor writer." http://www.readersclub.org/reviews/tresults.asp?id=2353
Barry's own website, http://www.davebarry.com/, ranks the influences on the Dave Barry style of humor in the following order: 1) his parents, especially his mom; 2) Robert Benchley; and 3) Mad Magazine. http://www.davebarry.com/faq_for_students.html
The Annenberg Media Foundation quotes Barry as saying, "The guy who made me laugh the most of all is dead. Is Robert Benchley. I always wanted to be like Robert Benchley. Um, not in the sense of being dead. I'd like to be Robert Benchley, but not dead." http://www.learner.org/catalog/
extras/interviews/dbarry/db02.html

Horace J. Digby, the 2005 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor winner, has a story remarkably similar to Dave Barry's.

"I found my first Benchley book in my parents attic. I was eight years old, pretending to be too sick to go to school. I never knew adults wrote books like that. It was love at first sight. I read it over and over. That's when I knew I wanted to be a humor writer when I grew up, just like Robert Benchley," Digby said.

While Dave Barry and Horace J. Digby both spent their lives wanting to be like Benchley, it seems that for many today, Robert Benchley is considered "The Dave Barry of his day." http://www.answers.com/topic/robert-benchley



Here is how Mike Gerber, a Robert Benchley fan and best selling author of Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody, put it. "Benchley’s stylistic influence has probably been greater than any other American humorist . . . Benchley-esque offhandedness is almost a prerequisite of writing humor in American English. He’s the Dave Barry of a more literate—and thoughtful—era. " http://www.mikegerber.com/CoreCollection.html

For more information about Robert Benchley and how you can win the 2006 Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor, go to http://www.robertbenchley.org/ or http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/barrytojudge.htm.


ROBERT BENCHLEY SOCIETY 2006 HUMOR WRITING COMPETITION OFFICIAL RULES AND DEADLINES:
Entries may be submitted by mail, postmarked on or before APRIL 15, 2006, to:
The Robert Benchley Societyc/o David Trumbull130 Bowdoin St., #1110 Boston, Massachusetts 02108.
or by E-mail on or before APRIL 15, 2006 as attached MS Word document with "Benchley Writing Completion in subject line of E-mail to david@robertbenchley.org
Entries must be: 1) Original; 2) Benchleyesque (in the sense of reflecting the Benchley style and humor); 3) Not more than 500 words in length (times height times width); 4) In the English language, such as it is these days; 5) All of the above; 6) Accompanied by a large number of small unmarked bills (optional).

All judging will be done in accordance with WBC rules: 1) There is no standing 8 count and no 3 knockdown rule; 2) Fighter can be saved by the bell in the last round only; 3) A 10 point must system is in effect; 4) Accidental head butt goes to the scorecard after the fourth round. 5) None of the above; 6) Officers and family members of officers of the National RBS, and judges are excluded;

PLEASE NOTE, The first page of the entry shall include ONLY the name, address, and other contact information for the entrant; the essay shall appear on the following page(s) with NO NAME OR OTHER IDENTIFYING INFORMATION.

The top four finalist entries will be ranked 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th by finalist judge, Dave Barry, who has agreed to provide his comments regarding the top four entries.

Winners will be announced in June of 2006, by the Robert Benchley Society

The Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor is sponsored by the Robert Benchley Society, David Trumbull Chairperson.
http://www.robertbenchley.org/
For more information contact: lolalane@lexingtonfilm.com

Partisan Politics

by Horace J. Digby

Last year I joined a group of humor columnists. We meet somewhere cyber space (no parking meters to feed).

This fellowship, of writers who had abandoned all forms of honest work, promised great benefit to the members friends and families. To the extent they had not already abandoned us, our loved ones would enjoy a respite from our continuing struggle to improve the "knock knock joke," as we Knights of this Algonquin Round Table in cyber-space verbally joust with each other instead of with them.

Recently there has been a change of tempo of this brave little Camelot. Some members are posting aggressively rancorous diatribes in support of various political beliefs.

At first it was amusing that established humor columnists could totally miss the irony of arguing over the insanity of our national political system. Sure, we are on the brink of disaster. Sure we all need to support our president, right or wrong. Sure our president lacks the oratory skills of say, Winston Churchill and the literary skills of Homer (or for that matter Homer Simpson), but these are the facts. It falls on the humorist to make fun of these facts. Let others deny they exist, or try to spin them into fool's gold.

It was bad enough when our Supreme Court became partisan. They preside over our nation's highest court of law. But humor columnists have a higher calling. They preside over our nation's highest court of public opinion.

Art Buchwald, who, according to the flyleaf on one of his books, spent decades chronicling our leaders' foibles, "in the elegant tradition of Oscar Wild and Snoopy," was asked where he got ideas for his columns.

"I steal them from the newspapers," Buchwald admitted, ". . . whatever is on the front pages is far funnier than anything I could possibly make up."

When I worked in communications for a major corporation I was asked to photograph ceremonies surrounding installation of a new American Flag at their corporate headquarters. Cultural conditioning and lack of experience as a photographer nearly caused me to join in the flag salute. Fortunately it occurred to me that if I saluted the flag, there would have been no one to record the image of our corporate president, our chairman of the board and whoever that fellow was in the expensive top coat, with hands over their hearts, observing that solemn but joyous ceremony (and photo op).

Humor columnists, like photographers, must observe and to report what they see. If we join in the ceremony or become part of the photo op, who will record the image?

The United States is a bold experiment in self leadership. Our founding fathers knew this. They also knew it would work best if we all remained mindful of our own shortcomings and those of our chosen leaders. Men like Franklin, Lincoln, Kennedy and Reagan realized that the sharpest arrow in their quiver was often their sense of humor. These men led our nation in war and in peace, with a clear eye, and with the honesty to laugh at life's perplexing ironies, even when those irony pointed at themselves or their most cherished beliefs.

We, as humorists, should do the same. We should learn from this lesson. We, as Americans, can not afford to let Art Buchwald down.

-- Horace J. Digby

http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/
Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

Dave Barry's Money

"The reason for book tours is that publishers are thinking, 'I'll bet these books would be worth a lot more if the author was dead.'" That's how Dave Barry began his economic address to a standing-room-only crowd at Seattle's old Town Hall, earlier today.

"Thank you all for coming. I guess, since it's raining, there isn't much else for you to do."

"There are dozens of books about financial management, by other authors who may seem more qualified. But those other books all suffer from the same important flaw. When people by those books, I personally don't get royalties. My book addresses that problem."

According to Barry, money was once based on animals, like cows. While this made armed robbery unbelievably difficult, it was also hard to make change.

Barry didn't spend his entire time stumping for his book. He also shared insider humor secrets about his experience as part of Steve Martin's writing team for the Academy Awards.

"We met in Steve Martin's living room. Everyone there was either an experienced joke writer or Steve Martin."

"I am used to spending an hour thinking about whether it would be funnier to use the word squirrel or the word weasel in a sentence. (For those who are wondering, it's weasel.) The other writers were experienced working with a team. They were all generous. Someone might come up with part of a joke and others would work with it. No body really owned any of the jokes. They knew they wouldn't get credit. Steve Martin got the credit."

"Being backstage at the Academy Awards was wonderful too, and not just because I ran right into Halle Berry."

After his talk in Seattle, Barry stayed around to sign autographs and hobnobbed privately with the NetWit's own Horace J. Digby (and about 100 other people). After the obligatory humor-columnist's secret handshake, Barry and Digby chatted about friends they have in common. Although Barry seemed to enjoy Digby's suggestion of beginning autographs with, "Pay to the order of . . ." he didn't adopt the practice.

Then, all too soon, it was time to leave.

"Tell the Louie Louie god hi for me," Barry said, remembering an event of two years earlier when Digby's son Adam sang with Barry in Tacoma.

The Big Easy (Just got easier)

by Horace J. Digby

For years I've made plans to visit New Orleans at Mardi Gras. But it just doesn't happen. I actually had tickets and res-ervations one year, when, all at once the New Orleans police went on strike.

A friend who lived in the French Quarter told me it would be a really bad time to visit. Instead, he sent me accounts of street violence he had witness and on one occasion suffered, during the Fat Tuesday through Ash Wednesday celebration.

So, as the once popular song almost goes, "I know what it means to miss New Orleans," and Mardi Gras.

Still in the throws of disaster, New Orleans needs our help. They need a place to hold Mardi Gras 2006. And why not Longview.

Longview has many features that make it ideal for Mardi Gras:

1) It's not under water. Not even part of Longview is under water, this year, so far.
2) It is near a big river (some parts are wider than a mile). The river has dikes too, just like the ones in New Orleans.
3) Longview is a center for original, traditional American music. Dozens of famous and near-famous American musicians have performed here . . . like Paul Revere and the Raiders, Sonny and Cher, Ike and Tina Turner, Merrilee Rush, The Kingsmen, The Wailers, The Impacts, The Panics, Arrows for Eros, The Brougham Closet, Doug York, Pat Goodbla, Johnny Mitchell and Keith Holter, Grady Harris, Derwood McBride, Leon Richey, Willie Nelson, Bill Booth, Mike Poe, Dick Olsen, Dave Dismore, Guy Live, The Doobie Brothers, Don Mclean, Bill Lussenden, some guy with a zither, and The Smothers Brothers . . . they have all performed here. Elvis once stayed at a motel in Kalama, so that counts too.
4) Longview also has parts of town with interesting names, like Down Town, the Highlands, the Old West Side, Mint Valley, and The Circle. Sure, there's no French Quarter, but the city council could probably come up with one if anyone complains.

The point is, Longview has everything necessary for Mardi Gras, except, of course, those Mardi Gras beads everyone wears, and those wrought iron balconies.

Wrought iron balconies are important. Just look at any picture of New Orleans. If we put up a few of those balconies, the Mayor of New Orleans wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Fortunately, we can get those beads and balconies from my good friend Caufbaugh Twilley (caufbaugh@lexingtonfilm.com). If we act fast, Twilley will probably let us have them at only two or three times retail (if we pay cash).

Tourists coming to Mardi Gras will also expect parades. Here's my thought. We can hire Guy Live and George Ford to wander around playing music and doing magic tricks. That's will be more entertainment than is actually needed, considering the fact that about 500,000 tourists will be too busy milling around, trying to find parking, food and lodging, to notice that there were only two people in the parade.

Cleaning up after all those tourists won't be a problem either. We'll just call FEMA.

-- Horace J. Digby --

Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved

The Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor - You Could Win!

Here's the scoop on "The Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor."

Robert Benchley is one of the seminal American humorists. He found fame during the 1920s, writing columns for Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, and found even more fame, when, he and his pal, Dorothy Parker formed a lunch group still known today as The Algonquin Round Table. They set the tempo for humor world wide in the 1920s.

Robert Benchley is still recognized today as an inspiration by humorists like, Dave Barry, Bob Newhart, Erma Bombeck, Woody Allen, Shelly Berman and almost everyone else.

When Bob Newhart won the Mark Twain Prize for Humor early in 2005, at the Kennedy Center, most of the speakers (including Newhart himself) named Robert Benchley as an inspiration.
Benchley's son, Nathaniel Benchley, wrote the novel, The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming, which became a William Rose screen play and comedy blockbuster movie in 1966. Benchley's grandson, Peter Benchley, wrote Jaws.
My life-long love affair with the work of Robert Benchley began when I was eight, playing hooky from school. I'd been exploring the attic, and found an old red-cover hard-bound book with one corner gnawed off.
The missing corner didn't surprise me. I had two older brothers.

I'm not sure why, but I took the book with me, and standing at the foot of the stairs, I began reading it. I couldn't put it down. Its title was My Ten years in a Quandary, and it was filled with humor columns by Robert Benchley. I didn't know there were books like that. It was the first "real book" I read. I knew on that day, standing in my bedroom, that I wanted to be a humor columnist when I grew up.

Thirty-eight years later, and after several serious career detours, the dream is coming true for me, and it all started with a short article I mailed, one fine day in late winter, to the Robert Benchley Society.
I sent in one piece, and promptly forgot about it.

Then, last May, I started getting a number of e-mails saying "Congratulations!" in the subject line. I thought it might be a virus, or an ad for Viagra, so I deleted them. Then I got one from a writer friend, Ed Tasca. I knew who Ed was, so I opened his e-mail. That's how I learned I'd won.

If you write humor, you should submit your finest work (in the style of Robert Benchley) to the Robert Benchley Society. http://www.robertbenchley.org/.

You might be the next winner.

Over Labor Day, my editor, Sue Piper, a writer, Jean Bruner and my pal, Dwain Buck, went back to Boston to get the award. It was a weekend of activities, tours, a boat trip, the race track, banquets (they let me read my winning entry) . . . Saturday night, after the bars closed, found a group of us men in tuxedos women in evening gowns, out in street front of Paul Revere's house. Heck, I knew Paul Revere. My band played on his TV show back in 1969. I even knew Mark Lindsey. But I couldn't get anyone to open the door. So we all quit making noise and went back to our hotels. It turns out there were two Paul Reveres.

-- Horace J. Digby --
2005 Winner of the Robert Benchley Award for Humor

The Jack Benny Stamp

Being apolitical, more or less, it is rare (to perhaps medium rare) to find my name associated with any political movement. But you should have an opportunity to join this important cause.

The Jack Benny Fan Club is petitioning congress to make the next U.S. postage stamp (39 cents) the Jack Benny stamp.

As humorists you owe it to one who inspired many of us to take up pen and rally forth against the insanity around us (or at least to quit our violin lessons).

This is your chance to make a really meaningless gesture which will nevertheless bring great joy to many people.

http://www.jackbenny.org/stamp

Who knows, perhaps one day Eric Decker will have get his own stamp.

Horace J. Digby
http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/

Broken Flowers

by Horace J. Digby

Movies have taken a bad turn.
Ever since Cast Away, mega-blockbuster-stars like Tom Hanks, Bill Murray and Jack Nicholson have been competing to see who can make the most boring movie.

Hanks took an early lead with Cast Away, so named for the fact that on the second day of shooting the cast ran away. The film involves a man who, after a very exciting plane crash, spends the remaining two acts talking to a volleyball. Even after he is rescued from the tiny Island where he spends most of the movie (and incidentally where most of the DVD sales have occurred) the remaining story arc consists only of a brief scene in which Hanks (or was perhaps it was Murray) takes the volleyball on a road trip to Texas or some other desolate place.

About Schmidt was one of these movies. It stared Jack Nicholson, or perhaps Phil Michelson. The plot of the film is, that there's this guy, you know, and he is, like, really BORING!!! The film wasn't actually boring enough for three exclamation points. It probably should only get an asterisk. But I only have one asterisk, I didn't want to risk it on that movie.

Bill Murray, being Canadian, couldn't stand the idea of guys from California having made two of the worlds slowest moving movies. So he spent a year toying with the idea of a one hundred and fifteen minute film consisting only of a still photo of a puppy sleeping. That film finally was re-titled and released as Lost in Translation. It won some awards and all would have been right with the world, if Tom Hanks hadn't gone back to the studio to film The Terminal.

Sure, I'm impressed that The Terminal is actually a true story about Hanks' own experience trying to get through airport security just after 9-11, but that doesn't keep it from being lame.

Murray of course fired back with Broken Flowers, a film that involves such unforgettable scenes as Bill Murray sitting on a leather sofa, Bill Murray sitting on a chair at the airport, Bill Murray sitting in a stuffed chair, Bill Murray sitting on a chair in a restaurant, Bill Murray sitting in a seat on a shuttle bus, Bill Murray sitting in an airline seat and Bill Murray sitting in a car. That's all he is doing for the most part. He isn't talking. He isn't listening to anybody talk. He isn't watching anything. I'm not sure he is even breathing. Weekend at Bernie's had more action and Bernie was dead for three quarters of the movie. But there is a big surprise ending in which Bill Murray sits on a box and actually talks to one of the other actors.

The Broken Flowers DVD has bonus features. No kidding, there is an outtake feature which consists of two young women both talking at once, over and over, on the shuttle bus (Remember the shuttle buss? It had more personality than some of the actors in this movie). And, are you ready for this? The DVD has a featurette of slates. Slates are those black and white striped plates with the clacker bar on top used to mark the beginning and end of scenes. Broken Flowers has a five or ten minute bonus feature that just involves footage of the slates being clacked. Although from time to time, Murray or one of the other actors makes a comment. This is the best part of the DVD.

There is another featurette narrated by writer/director Jim Jarmusch (who's name I mention only to keep other writer/directors from suing me for not making it clear that they didn't write or direct this film—I know I'd sue anyone who suggested that I made it). Jarmusch explains, repeatedly, that he, as a writer and director, doesn't really believe in knowing what is going to happen in the scenes he shoots. He also explains that he doesn't think figuring out the meaning of the film is his job (although if you saw the film, you already knew this). In all, the Jarmusch featurette reminded me of a lady where I used to work. No mater what it was, the first words out of her mouth were, "That's not my job." She said this so often and with such energy that pretty soon, she was right. It wasn't her job anymore.

This Jarmusch featurette consisted of what sounds like an interview recorded from AM radio, played over footage of a decaying farm house. Jarmusch explains that having a reason for filming a particular scene (or apparently an entire movie) doesn't matter much to him. He also said that after one of his films is finished and he has seen it once with a paying audience, he never watches it again. Frankly that shows good judgment on his part, at least if all of his films are as entertaining as Broken Flowers.

Hey, I just figured out why the only outtakes were of those two young women talking on the shuttle bus. Everything else actually made it into the film.

After seeing the movie, we watched the preview, and my wife summed up the experience.

"The entire movie is in the trailer. Even the scenes of Bill Murray just sitting places are there, only shorter."

Having said all of this, I might actually watch Broken Flowers again. It has a very nice scene featuring Alexis Dziena naked. It's a sensitive artistic scene, and it's not just exploitation, and it's necessary to the story, and it's tastefully done, and it's not just about the body, and it's necessary for the movie, and she looks great in the bikini scenes too.

-- Horace J. Digby
Winner of the Robert Benchley Society Award for Humor

Copyright © 2006, Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved
hjdigby@lexingtonfilm.com

Marié Digby

By Horace J. Digby


You have to meet Marié Digby (say: Mar-ee-A).
Better yet, you have to hear Marié Digby.

If beauty had a voice, her name would be Marié Digby.

Your old pal Horace J. stumbled across Marié quite by accident, Googling his own name, just to see what popped up, and he found a link to the music of Marié Digby.

Now there is lots of music on the net. And most of it is bad. But Marié has a rare talent. She writes her own songs, they are relevant, and can she ever sing. I can't think of any Grammy winner who has a better voice.

Marié is a winner too—winner of the fourth annual Pantene Pro-Voice competition, held in LA.

But why are you reading this? You can be listening the powerful, lyrical, beautiful work of Marié Digby right now. Just click here http://www.mariedigbymusic.com/ and if you don't like it, I'll send you a slightly used ear wax removal kit (it belongs to my Dalmatian) and you can listen again.

Your pal,
Horace J. Digby
And if you really like her work, let your friends know.
Let Marié know too. Tell her Horace sent you.

Horace J. Digby
hjdigby@lexingtonfilm.com
http://www.lexingtonfilm.com/

Voyage d'affair

By Horace J. Digby


Our trip to Paris took so much planning, I began feeling like Bilbo Baggins preparing for his great adventure. A grand sendoff would be the final step. Speeches, fireworks, I'd invite the entire Shire. But my wife, always the pragmatist, reminded me that we weren't actually Hobbits and didn't even know where the Shire was. She was right of course. Luckily, I headed off my nephew Frodo, before he mailed the invitations. I don't think I'll tell him about the magic ring.

Even without a party the details were endless. The most important was to brush up on my French. How hard could it be to lead my family on a safe and joyous romp through Paris? With my background in French (seventh and part of eighth grade) one of those "French-for-travelers" CDs would be the ticket.
After all, French is like math; you never forget it. So what if my last brush with the language was . . . let me see, hmmm . . . four minus three . . . carry the one . . . Maybe French isn't like math at all. Maybe French is more like riding a bicycle.

My wife and son got me a mountain bike for my 40th birthday. It was great to be back in the saddle, pedaling as fast as I could for the park. It was like I'd never been off of a bike. I'm sure that's what French is like. With my driveway just thirty yards ahead, I decided to see how fast I could take the turn. We used to lay our bikes nearly horizontal when I was a kid. You just lean into the turn.

Swoosh-crshcrbbll-brrssh—I slid nearly ten yards across the pavement, mostly on my left hip and forearm. Of course when I stopped sliding, I jumped up at once, acting like nothing at all had happened. This is an important part of being a guy. The quicker you jump up after a mishap, the better. Luckily, our garage door was open, so I headed there with all the bounce in my step that I could manufacture.

There was a lot of pain and probably blood, but I couldn't look. Not yet. You can't show pain, especially when you got the pain by doing something really stupid. This is the basis of all male behavior. After I got the garage door closed, I would wither and dissolve into a pool of quivering agony, but until then, "I was fine . . . I meant to do that."
Everything hurt. Heck, the bike seat was shredded, along with my shorts, my shirt and a good deal of my hip and forearm. A week or so later, before all of the bandages were off, I bump into my old childhood friend Ronny Pocan. I hadn't seen Ronny in years. He was the kid who actually taught me to ride a bike. My first real bike wreck was with Ronny.

Ronny took one look at the scab on my arm and knee and said, "I see you got a mountain bike."

"How did you know that?" I demanded.

Ronny didn't say a word. Instead he just pulled aside his shirt to show me his freshly abraded ribs and left arm. "Me too," he said.

I was sure French would be like that.

Luckily, there were scads of French-for-travelers CDs at the book store. But that meant I had to choose. Sure, I know they're all the same. But this was about the safety of my family. I had to make the right choice. I stood there, a man of once mighty Scottish and Viking ancestry, in a book store, trying to protect my family by choosing the right French-for-travelers CD. One million years of human evolution had distilled manhood down to its raw essence--pretending not to feel pain after bicycle wrecks, and protecting loved ones by reading labels on French-for-travelers CDs.

It isn't as easy as it sounds. Just a year ago we were making the same sort of selection for my son, Horace, Jr. He was headed for Slovakia as an exchange student and needed to learn the language. As you might imagine, there isn't much of a selection of Slovak-for-travelers tapes, so we pretty much bought the only one available. When we plugged in the tape, a gentleman with a thick British accent was saying something like, "Pip pip old chap. This is Nigel Rathbottom welcoming you to colloquial Slovak." [To get the full effect, the reader is advised to reread this quote using a very thick British accent, which everyone seems convinced they can do.]

We had a great laugh, until my son reminded us, that for all we knew this was how Slovaks really talked. Fortunately only the narration was in Cockney (or whatever that accent was). The actual lessons featured Slovak speakers.
I chose a French CD with a lot of writing on the label and photos of two attractive happy-looking people apparently talking in French.

They say, "Never judge a book by its cover." But—and I looked this up on the internet—no one ever says, "Never judge a French-for-travelers CD by its cover." So it must be ok.

Help! They Stole my watch!
It turns out that Nigel Rathbottom also does French CDs—just kidding. Whoever it was sounded very French (or perhaps Slovak). The first part of the CD was devoted to "most needed phrases." This seemed like a good idea, although I was a bit suspicious when one of the most needed phrase turned out to be, "Au secours! On a volé ma montre!" Which apparently means, "Help! They stole my watch!" No kidding. Whoever did this CD thought I'd probably need to be able to say that in France.

Another most needed phrase, according to the CD was, "Je veux un avocat qui parle Anglais?" Which makes sense. If you are going to hire a lawyer in France, getting one who speaks English is a good idea. Although, it was hard to imagine what sort of vacation traveler would find this to be a most needed phrase. But then, I'd never been to France. Maybe it was a big thing over there. Besides, the people who edited the CD knew more about traveling in France than I did. Who was I to argue? So, I learned this next phrase too. "Je ne peux pas bouger la jambe." Which the CD assured me meant, "I can't move my leg." I'm really not kidding here.

I was still trying to get a mental picture of the editors of this CD. Did they really think that these were the most needed phrases for a family vacation? Or this one, "Ce sont des pillules ou des suppositories?" "Are these pills or suppositories?"

I sort of figured if you really need any of these phrases your vacation is already pretty much beyond hope. So, what possible good could it do to chat pleasantly about your situation in well-formed, grammatically correct French sentences? Although that one about the suppositories might come in handy.

Soon, I was spending more time worrying about the life of those poor editors than studying French. Did they get these phrases from their own experience? Did they also know these phrases in, say, German? And, could I get a guarantee that the editors would not be staying in the same hotel we had booked?

And what about the thousands of phrases that were left out? Like, "Help! They kidnapped the Swiss Ambassador!"

Sure, you might not need that one most of the time, but let's say you attend a wine tasting party at the Louvre and somebody runs off with the Swiss Ambassador. How will it look if you just stand there making small talk about whether or not you can move your leg, while everyone else is yelling, "Au secours! On a volé Le Ambassadeur du Suisse!" You should at least be able to say something about the kidnapping. The French consider such minor courtesies quite important. Although, I guess, you could just pretend to be looking for your wristwatch.

This detour of thought had to end. I had spent good money on that CD, and most needed phrases or not (including how to ask for more pepper, "Je voudrais du poivre s'il vous plait") it was time to make the best of things.

We already had our airline tickets, and room reservations in what had been promised to be a nice hotel avec douche—which I hoped meant, "with a shower." But we didn't have any French money yet.

Money Matters
In junior high, I tried to learn the names of French currency but it didn't take. I couldn't remember any of them. I did remember, however that the French are always saying, Ça ne fait rein (which I knew means either, "Don't worry about it," or "There is no more rice.").

Happily, France now uses the European Common Market dollar called the Euro. Euros even have nearly the same change as our money, nickels, dimes twenty cent pieces and pennies, although they probably call them something else. When I checked, the price of one Euro was about $1.30. That seemed high so I checked again a few weeks later. It had gone up to $1.50.


I knew the price would go down. I also knew this wouldn't happen until we had purchased all of the Euros we would ever need. And then the price would never go back up again as long as we held any of them. So, I did the only intelligent thing. I pretended to buy some Euros. "Je voudrais du Euro s'il vous plait," I said. Which is French for, "May I buy some Euros?" I said this to nobody in particular, because I was only pretending.

Then, in a squeaky falsetto, I answered myself, "Je ne comprends pas." Basic French for, "Huh?"

Not getting anywhere with virtual currency trading, the only alternative was to hold out until the last possible second, hoping for some lucky break—like the economic collapse of Europe—to drive the price of Euros down.

Until then, I decided to study more French.

Lessons Deux
French English
Banker: Bonjour monsieur. "Hi."
Tourist: Je voudrais du Euro s'il "How much for some Euros?"
vous plait. C'est combien?
Banker: Où est la garantie? "More than YOU can afford."
Tourist: La Garantie? "You want my house?"
Banker: Vous vouloir Euro, n'est pas? "Yes."
Tourist: Je ne peux pas bouger le visage. "I can't move my face."

Best Laid Plans
Planning our trip was loads of fun. We wanted to visit Slovakia first, then rail to Paris before pushing on to London (we also wanted to use other travel-related words like "explore" and "navigate," but we were on a budget).

Checking the map, we learned that Paris and London both have a river running through them, roughly in the shape of the letter "n." Both cities also have a perimeter highway around them, and in each city the preferred mode of travel is by subway. We soon realized the only actual difference between Paris and London is that London has a really big Ferris wheel where the Eiffel Tower would be if you were in Paris. Other than that, the cities are identical. In fact, if you rush up behind a group of Parisians and listen in on their conversation before they know you are there, you will often catch them chattering away in Cockney (or perhaps it's Slovak) about fish 'n chips and ale.

We used the travel agent method to planning our trip. This is the best way to organize plans for travel to Europe. Your agent will know all of the secret instructions about getting a hotel with showers. Your agent also has a much better chance of getting your money back if something really goes wrong—like if Paris happens to be closed for repairs when you get there [it happened to us at Disneyland once] or if a really big corporate party (like IBM) has booked all of Europe and you can't get tickets to do anything [this happened on our honeymoon trip to Kauai].

Whenever you face these or other major problems on your trip, your travel agent can really help. He or she is certain to know the MOST NEEDED FRENCH PHRASE OF ALL, which is:

Vous ne puis-pas exchangre ceci.

Which means, "All sales are final."

-- Horace J. Digby
Copyright © 2006 Lexington Film, LLC. All rights reserved