A Superman Without a Home

The following was originally published in the May 13 edition of the Dayton Daily News under the pen name/secret identity "Toby Riassi."

Not his real hair.

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s ... a traitor!

Yes, it seems that when it comes to standing up for one’s country, the Man of Steel doesn’t have much of a spine.

In an upcoming issue of his Action Comics series, Superman attends a rally in Iran to show his support for government protesters there. He’s reprimanded for this by the Secret Service, who apparently has authority over superheroes.

This causes Superman, who fears that he’s being seen as a tool exclusively of the United States, to go before the United Nations and renounce his American citizenship.

Hey, good timing Superman. Maybe you were stuck in a phone booth or something and didn’t hear, but we just got bin Laden. Bet you wish you could reverse the earth’s rotation to turn back time on that one.

But it’s too late. From now on, no matter what you do, we’ll see right through you. Not in the way that you can see through us, with the X-ray vision and all, but in a figurative, non-privacy rights violating sense.

You’re supposed to stand for “truth, justice and the American way,” but in this issue you say that’s “just not enough anymore.” What more do you want, Superman? Do you want us to remove the kryptonite from hot dogs? Forget it. What do you think gives them their sheen?

Oh, word through the newspaper grapevine is that your “buddy” over at the “Daily Planet” Clark Kent plans to remain a citizen. Well you can’t have it both ways, Kal-El. If that is your real name.

If being the embodiment of all that is right and fair in the world isn’t good enough for you, I don’t see how you’re ever going to be satisfied. What is it you don’t like about us anymore? We stopped calling you about kittens stuck in trees. We don’t tug on your cape.

Is it the obesity? Is that it? It’s because we’ve gained weight, isn’t it? Well, excuse us, Mr. Perfect. We weren’t all blessed with super will power.

Or maybe it’s our supposed lack of worldliness? Sorry we don’t all live in Metropolis. Don’t forget, you grew up in Smallville, pal. Which, by the way, has an unusually high crime rate for a little Kansas farming town, if you ask me.

Seems to me that trouble just follows you around. Everywhere you go these catastrophic events aren’t far behind. Bomb threats, kidnappings, the early 90s television dramedy “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.” Horrifying occurrences that those who witnessed them will never forget.

But if you’re willing to turn your back on us— all of us— then go right ahead. But it’s up to you to explain it to the children before you go, especially little Jimmy Olsen. He’s going to be devastated. He looks up to you, you know.

Then I want you to go, fly away. Far away. And don’t turn back.

Partly because it’s too painful and partly because we just turned on the Bat Signal. Batman should be here any minute now and that could get awkward.

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No Way to Treat a Guido

The following appeared in the April 29 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Do not be alarmed by its healthy orange glow.

There’s just no pleasing some people.

Like children, for example. You feed them in morning, and, like, four hours later, they’re asking for more food. Will you never be satisfied?!

And then there’s Italy.

First, they didn’t want to be represented in popular culture by compelling and critically acclaimed television and film portrayals of the mafia. What more do you need than critical acclaim? It's the best kind of acclaim.

Photo courtesy of the State Dept.

Now, they don’t like the cast of MTV’s “Jersey Shore” being front and center and shirtless when the topic of conversation turns to Italian-Americans. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it has something to do with the “L” in favorite Shore saying, “GTL” (gym, tan, laundry). They probably think the guys’ mothers should be taking care of that part for them well into their 40s.

“They embody the worst stereotypes of Italians, multiplied by thousands and Americanized,” Roman newspaper columnist Roberto Del Bove said, I assume between bites of spaghetti and meatballs while stroking his bushy mustache, wearing a giant chef hat and playing an organ grinder so his pet monkey could dance for spare change/pickpocket unsuspecting passersby.

Also, that quote makes it abundantly clear that Mr. Del Bove has never been to an Olive Garden.

Italy’s criticism of “Jersey Shore” began because of plans to film the show’s upcoming season inside the old country, specifically in the city of Florence. Who knows what historic fountains the cast will befoul as they drunkenly mistake them for elaborate hot tubs.

But according to the New York Post, Florence Mayor Matteo Renzi wants to ruin the fun all because he’d prefer to maintain a clean, desirable place for people to live. Lame, Renzi. I thought you were cool, man.

He laid out a set of rules for the cast’s upcoming trip to the motherland, including:

• No filming allowed inside any of the city’s historic buildings. 

No problem there. Unless there are tanning beds in Florence and they count as historic buildings.

• The cast will not be filmed in bars and clubs that serve alcohol. 

OK, so we’re just going to cancel the season now, right? I mean, from what I’ve seen, that’s literally the whole show. Although, this is Europe we’re talking about. So my guess is the guidos and guidettes can just get their respective drinks and shwerves on in other places.

• The cast will not be filmed drinking in public. 

All right then. This is going well. Well, on the plus side, this is going to be the best episode of “Intervention” ever.

• The show should be filmed in a manner to promote Italy (not Americans visiting Italy) and feature its culture and good food. 

You want culture? Both Snooki and JWOW have written books. Actual books, with a certain percentage of words recognized as part of the English language. And The Situation was on “Dancing With the Stars.” Each is their own sort of perverted mutation of culture.

• The show will not be filmed to promote Florence as a drinking town. 

You know what usually happens when a parent tells his or her child over and over not to do something?

Why do I get the feeling Mayor Renzi will be giving the cast the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” speech in a few months?


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Don't Go Changing

The following was published in the April 15 edition of the Dayton Daily News and was nominated for Best Imitation of Writing, Latin/Spoken Word.

I don’t do well with change.

One time I went to a restaurant where they secretly replaced the fine coffee they usually served with Folgers Crystals. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks.

So imagine my reaction when it was announced that the Grammy Awards were slashing more than 30 categories.

Really, 30 categories gone? That’s excessive. Then there are a mere 78 left.

I understand not wanting to make cuts out of show time that could be spent extending a pyrotechnic-laced Justin Bieber/Jaden Smith dance routine, but there has to be another way.

All right, deep breaths. I’m going to stay calm here. In the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. There could be no Grammys. Can you imagine? Then people would only be able to find out about hot new artists from record stores and FM radio.

The Academy is probably just getting rid of some of those technical awards anyway, the ones handed out in previously held ceremonies at venues with really low ceilings.

“Gone is Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals,” according to eonline.com. “And the Best Female Pop Vocal Performance and Best Male Pop Vocal Performance are getting morphed into the gender-neutral Best Pop Solo Performance.”

Gender-neutral? You can’t judge men’s and women’s songs against each other. All of men’s songs are about women. It’ll subconsciously skew the whole thing.

Whew, it is hot in here. Is anyone else hot? I am burning up.

Okay, that’s fine. Go ahead. While I do not agree that Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals was the right place to start (Best Pop Collaboration With Silence/Body Language, anyone?), I’m willing to go along with it.

I mean, these people run the Grammy Awards. Are you going to question their competency?

So it’s a shame to have lost those categories, but at least the band-aid’s off. We’re finished.

What’s that? We’re not finished? And no one is actually talking to me right now, you say? Interesting.

“The Dance Field has been renamed the Dance/Electronica Field and Best Electronic/Dance Album is now called Dance/Electronica Album,” the Recording Academy press release said.

Come on, Recording Academy. What does that even mean? How do you get from Electronic to Electronica? That’s like going from Rhythm and Blues to R&B. They’re completely unrelated.

“As the distinction was often hairsplitting, Hard Rock and Metal were combined,” the press release continued.

They must mean earsplitting. What they meant to say is that these categories rocked so hard separately that it was earsplitting and hence, they had to be combined for safety reasons.

“Individual categories for Hawaiian, Native American and Zydeco or Cajun Music are being replaced with the Best Regional Roots Music Album category.”

Noooooo! Think of the reaction in Native American communities, where this will likely be viewed as the worst atrocity ever carried out against their people in this country’s history.

I can’t breathe. Water, I need water. The room is starting to spin. I think I’m going to pass out. This can’t be real.

It’s a dream. That’s it. It’s all just a nightmare. Any minute now I’m going to wake up and everything will be back to normal.

Then I’ll see that it was all just a horrible dream, like that time I thought I wrote a whole column about the Grammys.

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Ready To Fill the Bill

The following appeared in the April 1 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Read it in a silly duck voice in your head, if you dare.

Can you speak?

Can you, um … well, that’s it actually.

If you can, you could be the next voice of the Aflac Duck! Finally, an occupation where I wouldn’t openly embarrass my family, if only because my work would all be attributed to a sassy duck.

Aflac is encouraging people to “Answer the Duck’s Call.” At least, I think it’s them. They could really just be hunters trying to lure potential ducks out. Just in case, be sure to wear a bright orange vest to audition.

The old voice, Gilbert Gottfried, was let go after making jokes about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan on Twitter. That’s in incredibly poor taste, yes. But maybe this all could have been avoided with a few strategically placed winky smiley face emoticons. Those soften everything.

For example: I’m not sure I love you anymore. ;)

See how that takes the sting out of things? We’ll never know if it would have saved Gilbert though, and now, his loss could be your gain. Go ahead and audition if you want. Entries have to be in today, April 1. You might even come in second place. That’s how confident I am in my application.

All the company asks for in the entry is your name, phone number, email and a 30 second audio or video clip of your interpretations of the duck sounding “informative, frustrated, happy, surprised, angry.”

The directions also say to “feel free to add grunts, groans, and mutterings, but no words other than ‘Aflac.’”

So my recording of a half-minute of emotive grunting complete, I moved on to something that would differentiate me from all the other candidates.

Any good job applicant knows that no matter what the company you’re applying to asks for, always send a cover letter. That’s why I included the following.

To Whom It May Concern:

It started at an early age, when I used to speak with a fake lisp to be like Daffy or often went out wearing a pantsless sailor suit à la Donald.

But eventually, that sort of thing had to stop. Especially the second one. The sailor suit top was getting tight.

And so I moved on, like people so often do, convinced the ship had sailed on my dreams. I could still be happy without being a duck, at least that’s what I told myself.

Then I heard about your search for a new voice for your spokesduck and I knew it was meant to be.

You say you’re looking for someone with a “collaborative spirit, especially when it comes to working with ducks.” So I guess it’s good that my grade school report cards regularly said, “talks at inappropriate times, but works well with other children and water fowl.”

Under special skills, you say the position “requires correct pronunciation of the word Aflac.” As you’ll see in my audition tape, I nailed this one at least six out of every ten times. That’s over 50%!

You’re also looking for “bilingual skills (English Duck and Spanish Duck).” Oh, would you settle for octolingual skills? That’s right, I can quack in eight different languages, including Latin, Esperanto and Pig Latin (“ack-quay!”).

Another special skill called out was the ability to “present complex information clearly and concisely into an effective reading of the word ‘Aflac.’”

That’s a large undertaking, conveying an insurance company’s entire mission and philosophy in one word, spoken in a cartoonish duck voice. But I’m up to the challenge.

Unlike most applicants, I understand that this is where the grunting comes in.

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Keeping Up Is Hard To Do

Insert obvious joke here.

The following was originally published in the March 18 edition of the Dayton Daily News. It's an important piece of writing about an important topic. Please try to pay attention.

Great news! Unemployment numbers remain at record levels with no real end in sight.

Man, those jobless really got it made. Lunches at fancy restaurants. Shopping. Various cosmetic procedures. I don’t understand what all the fuss over the out-of-work is about. Seems to me they’re living quite comfortably.

Yes, if the Kardashians are an accurate gauge, there’s never been a better time to contribute less to society.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, the family took in $65 million in 2010. And why not? Besides every person you know, chimpanzees, children, large kitchen appliances, most breeds of dog, candlesticks, Paris Hilton and many robots, who else could have done the things they did?

Exhibit A: their show, “Keeping Up With the Kardashians.” It’s in its sixth season (just let that sink in) on E!

That’s E! Entertainment Television. “Entertainment” is right there in the name. They wouldn’t put something on the air if it wasn’t entertaining. It’s not E! “Stupid Garbage Television.” Not yet, at least.

Why has the show been such a huge success? Mother and manager Kris Jenner has an idea.

“There’s someone here for everyone to relate to,” she said.

Yes. I identify so strongly with Kourtney’s baby, Mason. In that being around these people would also make me want to cry and soil myself.

“I’ve had so many people come over to me and say, ‘I remember the episode where you were crying over blah, blah, blah and it helped me so much and I got through my dad’s death because of you,” she continued.

So true. There’s nothing more cathartic than watching rich people get into fights at nightclubs and then further discuss those fights in individual, dead-behind-the-eyes confessional interviews were they exhibit no vocal inflection of any kind. I can’t think of a better way to honor the memory of a lost loved one and value the precious gift of life.

But you don’t make $65 million just by being a coping mechanism. You make it by standing in front of a blowing fan, having your picture taken and then slapping that picture on everything humanly possible.

Kardashian Silly Bandz? Done. Could Pogs be next?

Kardashian book? Done. “Kardashian Konfidential” was a best seller, bigger than Oprah recommending the Bible.

Kardashian water? In the works. It’s just like regular water but it offers nothing beneficial. Actually, it’s just an empty bottle. It costs $7.95.

On Twitter, Kim can make $25,000 just by mentioning a business in her tweets. You mean, she doesn’t really choose Lowe’s for all of her weekend DIY home improvement projects?

“Unbreakable,” a unisex fragrance from Khloé and husband Lamar Odom, just came out and will likely be a huge hit. After all, who doesn’t want a romantic partner that smells exactly them? Just ask this appetizing commercial.



“Kardashian Khaos” is opening this year at the Mirage in Las Vegas, serving as a one-stop destination where people who hate themselves can buy every product currently endorsed by a Kardashian. It also furthers the family’s commitment to cleverly replacing the “C” at the beginning of words appearing after their name with a “K.” A concept most children would need at least 48 seconds to think of.

Worried this could all be too much of a good thing? As usual, the Kardashians are way ahead of you.

“We definitely worry about overexposure,” Jenner said. “We never want to get to a place where people are thinking, ‘Enough is enough.’ ”

Yeah, and I heard when you get to that place, you don’t even realize you’re there. Freaky.

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Separation of Church and Fake

The following was originally published in the February 18 edition of the Dayton Daily News and was made possible, as are all things, by the grace of John Travolta and Tom Cruise.

The Church of Scientology has its fair share of well-documented detractors. Those people are just jealous.

And who wouldn’t be with some of the amazing membership benefits that have recently come to light in an article in The New Yorker?

First, actor Josh Brolin discussed the time when, in “a moment of real desperation,” he visited the church’s Celebrity Centre. What, your church doesn’t have one?

So much like your church it's scary.

Brolin decided Scientology just wasn’t for him after receiving his “auditing.” And who can blame him? Getting together all of those receipts is exhausting.

Oh, it says here that in Scientology, “auditing” is a sort of spiritual counseling session. Well, still sounds painful.

So Josh says it’s not his thing. OK, fine. To each his own. But imagine how red his face must have been when a few years later he was at a dinner party with John Travolta and in walked Marlon Brando with a painful cut on his leg, sustained after helping a stranded motorist on the Pacific Coast Highway. That’s when, according to Brolin, Travolta sprang into action, offering to help and saying that he had just “reached a new level.” Then Travolta proceeded to touch the cut leg as Brando closed his eyes.

“Then, after ten minutes,” Brolin explains, “Brando opens his eyes and says, ‘That really helped. I actually feel different!’ ”

Wow. That is a miracle. Marlon Brando actually left his house. I thought that sort of thing only happened in the movies. Glory to John in the highest!

And don’t worry about the fact that Brando didn’t say anything about feeling better. He felt “different,” which is essentially the same thing when you think about it. He felt bad, then he felt different. Better is different than bad. See, now don’t you feel different?

Through his lawyer, Travolta calls the story “pure fabrication,” but what’s he going to say? If he reveals that he is, in fact, a healer, he’d have people coming up to him constantly asking him to lay hands upon them. It’s just not practical.

Then there’s the story about John Brosseau, an ex-Scientologist and Tom Cruise staffer, who was ordered by church leader David Miscavigealong to construct a custom limousine for the star, as well as two motorcycles and an airport hangar. You know, the things every church has fellow parishioners make for each other.

Although, “ordered” makes it sound like they were toiling away with no reward, when in fact Brosseau says each person on the project was paid $50 a week and was assured they were “working for the betterment of mankind.” Glory to Tom in the highest!

If that’s the case, accepting $50 a week seems greedy and excessive on the part of Brosseau and the other staffers. Shame on them. If you’re truly working on a limo that will serve to advance humanity, how dare you accept compensation?

And from a church, no less. They’re probably struggling to scrape together the funds for a new community center and you put them in a position like that?

In a final example of the religion’s clear, not at all baseless benefits, actress Kirstie Alley proclaims she would be dead if it wasn’t for Scientology.

“Without Scientology, I would be dead,” she said. See, told you.

She says the religion helped her “lose her craving for cocaine.” Evidently, church leaders are still working on transferring this amazing power into the realm of Hostess snack cakes.

That must be at the next level.

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Chemical Charlie

The following was originally published in the March 4 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Inject it directly into your bloodstream to enjoy the hilarity more immediately. 

Moments later, he snorted one up each nostril.

I think we can all agree that the time for somebody to call out Thomas Jefferson is long overdue.

That’s why I was so pleased to hear a recent interview on a syndicated radio program that apparently exists called The Alex Jones Show with the totally, completely, really sober Charlie Sheen.

In the interview, Sheen covered everything from the creator of Two and a Half Men, Chuck Lorre (a “clown” and a “turd”), to his dad Martin Sheen (“Quit panicking.”) to that scourge Jefferson.

“He was a p---y,” an obviously clearheaded Sheen suggested of the third president of the United States.

Thank you. It’s about time that somebody put Thomas Jefferson in his place. The man has gotten a pass for far too long. He was a namby-pamby even by his day’s powdered wig-wearing standards and I’m glad somebody finally said it.

Now before you dismiss this as just the ramblings of the same wild, out-of-control Charlie Sheen you remember from way back in the early last weeks, you should know that he’s completely sober now. I know because he said so.

Just not in so many words. Or, I guess not in that word, “sober.” Because that word is for “sissies.” Like Thomas Jefferson!

But he is cured, even though what he had was not, as his father had suggested in recent interviews, a disease.

“I have a disease? Bulls--t. I cured it with my brain,” Charlie said.

I don’t think I have to explain to you what this revelation, if true, could mean for the fields of disease prevention and medical research. This could be a huge breakthrough. The one we’ve been waiting years for.

Of course, Charlie Sheen’s Brain is not right for everyone, so be sure to consult your physician before starting a regimen. Side effects include sore liver, junkie face, drunkenstumblebum and ol’ sunken eyes.

Women who have dignity or may develop dignity should not take Charlie Sheen’s Brain. Stop taking Charlie Sheen’s Brain immediately if you develop nosebleeds or thoughts of destroying a hotel room or a marriage, as these could be a signs of a more serious problem.

Oh, and don’t you think for a second that Sheen’s new clean lifestyle had anything to do with Alcoholics Anonymous, that “bootleg cult founded by an LSD addict who wrote a book of lies.”

“Their success rate is only five percent,” he said. “Compared to [my] success rate of 100 percent. Do the math!”

I did. My numbers came out inconclusive. I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to be adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing though.

“I’m so tired of pretending like my life isn’t perfect and b--chin’ and just winning every second,” Sheen continued, saying that he was tired of dealing with people like you. All the “fools and trolls whose judgment and stupidity comes from having to lay down with their ugly wives in front of their ugly children and just look at their loser lives.”

Yeah, you probably like Thomas Jefferson, too.

But the good news is, just because you’re awful and probably worth more to your ugly loved ones dead than alive, there is a cure.

Talk to your doctor about Charlie Sheen’s brain today, so you can stop sucking and start winning every second.

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Like Mother, Like Tiger

The following was originally published in the February 4 edition of the Dayton Daily News and has been credited with single-handedly saving the newspaper industry.

You’re all worthless and weak.

And there’s a reason for it. Your mom.

Ha, ha, ha, no friend, I assure you I haven’t filled this column with a series of Wilmer Valderrama approved “Yo Momma” jokes, each more cutting and “aw snap” inducing than the next. Though, as is the case every week, I thought about it.

Instead, we’re going to talk about the phenomenon that is being a “tiger mother.” If you haven’t heard of it, allow me to tiger mom upside yo head for a second: You are stupid. Why don’t you read more, you lazy slug?

Undoctored photo

Boom, tiger mom’d.

See? It’s the verbally abusive parenting sensation that’s sweeping the nation! Only in this case, China is the nation.

Now it’s been introduced to America by Yale law professor Amy Chua in her much-talked-about book “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.” Being a tiger mother involves putting extremely strict, some would say draconian, methods that are commonplace in China into practice when raising a child in the Western world.

In the book, Chua details incidents like the time she called her daughter “garbage,” the time she threatened to burn all of her daughter’s stuffed animals and the time she threw a hand-drawn birthday card back at her daughter explaining, “I deserve better than this. So I reject this.” Cherished family memories, each of them.

The card incident is amazing. I’ve received countless crudely drawn birthday cards in my life, some even from children. I had no idea you could reject them. I’ve been accepting them this whole time, and saying thank you. I’m so weak. I blame you, mom.

That’s it. From now on, when somebody, regardless of age, fails to meet my expectations, I’m definitely going to turn into a tiger. Not literally, like attorney Doug Mann of Dyer, Garofalo, Mann and Schultz does when you’ve been in an accident that’s no fault of your own, but psychologically. After all, why should kids have all the crippling mental breakdowns fun?

But those with children are probably sitting at home right now wondering if being a tiger parent is right for them. Well, just take this handy 12-question survey to find out.

SO YOU’VE DECIDED TO EAT YOUR YOUNG …
Please circle all that apply:

1. I am a tiger and/or I have stripes. (If yes, congratulations, your survey is complete.)

2. The sound of children’s laughter fills me with rage.

3. If a child has time to sleep, they have time to practice violin.

4. If a child has time to practice violin, they have time to solve complex mathematical equations.

5. If children have time to cry, they have time to do both simultaneously while I spit watermelon seeds at their heads.

6. Sleepovers are not allowed, even if a child’s cage is large enough for two.

7. I will choose all of my child’s extracurricular activities. Whether they actually enjoy cobbling is of no concern to me.

8. Fire says more than words ever could.

9. Birthday parties are nothing more than a vehicle for superfluous cake and/or cheerful singing.

10. Cake and cheerful singing fill me with rage.

11. If a child wants to play house, they can climb on the roof and clean out the gutters.

12. When times are hard, I draw strength from the vial of my children’s tears I wear around my neck.


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Better To Be Safe Than Spidey

The following was originally published in the January 21 edition of the Dayton Daily News and will likely win a Pulitzer.

If my calculations are correct, more people have died during rehearsal for the new Broadway musical “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark” than in both World Wars combined.

If that doesn’t scare you, maybe this will. As the injuries pile up on the set of the much talked about, much delayed show, we can’t even rely on Spider-Man for help. Because guess what? He’s badly injured, too. Took a fall a few weeks back and now he can’t even feel his spider-sense tingling.

That means your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is probably a backup. On duty for the first time, and from what I hear, not even licensed to carry webs.

But while everyone is disturbed by what’s happening in that theater on the Great White Way, the focus here shouldn’t be on the unfortunate soundtrack created by Bono and The Edge.

Instead, we should be trying to find ways to protect Spider-Man so that he, in turn, can protect us. There are some basic rules and safety measures that can be implemented in and around the theater to make a big difference. They could even serve to improve and enhance the show. Maybe make it feel more real.

For one, Spider-Man should now complete all scenes contained inside a bouncy castle. As an added precaution in the event the castle loses air, audience members seated in the first three rows are now required to be morbidly obese.

Spider-Man must be wearing helmets and kneepads at all times. It doesn’t matter if Batman’s family lets him go out without them whenever he wants. If Batman went out without his mask would you do it too?

Further, Spider-Man won’t be allowed to leave the house without a sweater. It can get downright chilly in those old theaters and that could lead to a case of the sniffles. Relax, everyone will still see the suit. And by the end of the show the audience won’t even be able to picture the costume without the cardigan anymore.

Also regarding the costume, blinking reflectors will be added to each Spider-Man’s suit so as to be easily seen by cast, crew, motorists driving at dusk and other Spider-Men who may be left dangling from the rafters from previous failed performances.

Speaking of which, instead of dangerous aerial maneuvers performed while swinging from webs high above the stage, Spider-Man will now briskly walk back and forth on stage, creating the illusion of flight. It’s called acting.

These strenuous musical numbers will each be followed by brief cool-down sessions, where Spider-Man and fellow characters stop to have some orange juice and maybe a cookie. This doesn’t need to happen any more than between 18 and 26 times at varying random spots throughout the performance nightly, so as to not disrupt the show’s flow.

And of course, all Spider-Men will be required to supply an emergency contact number. Necessary information will include a first and last name, specified relationship to Spider-Man, a daytime phone number and any nut allergies.

With great power comes great responsibility, and with great stunts comes producers’ great responsibility to be able to contact a next of kin.

So mostly minor tweaks in all, but important ones. And with them, “Spider-Man” the musical should be ready to officially and safely launch without further delay.

Helmets and cardigans, everyone! The show's about to start.


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Royal Fever: Catch It!

If you're anything like me, the royal wedding has your body totally covered in open sores right now. Yes, I think it's safe to say excitement over the upcoming nuptials of Prince William and Kate Middleton has us all urinating blood. Sounds like we've come down with a touch of Royal Fever, am I right? If there's another explanation, I can't think of it. Can you, Fezziwig?

OK, Fezzi, I know you're hungry. You've only been biting me all day. Just a minute while I tell the nice people about my recent column for the Dayton Daily News. In it I discuss William and Kate's ill-advised decision to go servant-less after they've wed. The fools! What if they both come down with Royal Fever? Or are they immune? Or maybe just he is and she could come down with it at any time because her veins are filled with nothing more than commoner blood, which is actually 60% dirt? Either way, my Royal Fever seems to be getting more intense and I'm really beginning to hallucinate. So while this minotaur gives me a piggyback ride to the doctor, why don't you swing by and check out the column.
Update: The links above are not working, but you can find the column here, on allbusiness.com for some reason. Must be because I'm all business. Or because I'm always taking care of it. One of the two.


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