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So Charles and I are driving down Van Nuys Blvd. in search of this 1950’s diner named Beeps that neither of us have ever heard of.  We both find it hard to believe that if it were THAT good one of us wouldn’t have been aware of it. So we had low expectations until we turned a corner and saw this:

I would’ve stopped anywhere the occupant of that gold sparkle Chevy stopped to eat but I knew from the original Beeps neon that we hit the jackpot, Chevy or not.

All the signage at Beeps is pretty great:

Though some of the signage placement could’ve used a little more thought:

I wish that palm had settled in front of James Dean instead.  I hate all that 50’s repro crap, especially when this place actually existed at that time.

Inside, there’s very little room for signage. However, every inch is covered with more 50’s repro madness. I HATE WHEN DINERS DO THIS, not when they should be preserving and relishing the authentically vintage naugahyde, chrome stools and formica covered tabletops they ripped out to make way for it in the first place. Unfortunately, Beeps is a victim of such “modernization”. But thankfully, I can still appreciate it from a kitsch POV as there’s such an overload of new crap everywhere:

Every surface is jammed, even where there’s barely any room, like this wannabe Elvis stuck in the “bar” area.

Even the ceilings are smothered with stuff:

I would suggest bringing a phone or a good book so you don’t have to look at the walls with every repro light-up diner poster ever made, like this one:

Same for the neon guitar:

In contrast, the restroom key is very minimalist. Although perhaps there could have been a more appetizing choice for a restaurant key fob than a drain pipe:

But all of the decor is tolerable because of this::

The menu is massive, far beyond the reach of this photo:

We were very lucky that Valentines Day was approaching, adding to the beauty of the food selection:

Both Charles and I had cheeseburgers.

The french fries were nice and crispy.  I was very happy with this action ketchup shot:

I would suggest any burger or kitsch lover head down Van Nuys and make your stomachs (if not your eyes) very happy.

Happy dining until we drive again…

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Bright and early the Sunday before last, my #1 day-trip accompanist, Charles Phoenix, and myself tooled down Van Nuys Blvd. looking for a 1950’s diner we heard about called Beeps. For neither of us to know about a place of this nature that’s remained authentic is unheard of. In order to get to it we drove down the main drag of the Valley, Van Nuys Blvd.

No question Van Nuys is pumped full of Arbys, KFC’s and McDonald’s, but thankfully there are quite a few vintage buildings left as well as some newer cheese palaces that make our hit list. We hit the boulevard at Magnolia because there was no way I was going to miss one of my favorite rooflines in the city:

The vintage streetlights look so happy with their taller brother palms:

Tall palms accompany many of the vintage buildings on Van Nuys Blvd.

Although mostly 1960’s and later, older Deco gems pop up too…:

…as well as Deco wannabes, in this case vintage 1975:

There are many great murals along the way, like this one under an overpass,..:

…and this one on a dying building where it’s nice to see life…:

….and this one where it’s nice to get money.:

There’s also a lot of art like this lining the boulevard:

Then there’s buildings like this that are art itself:

And then there’s a type of ‘artful’ building way down at the other end of the tip, like this superstore that looms like a Mayan ruin:

Though not quite as towering as that ‘ancient’ Mayan statue. this is even more impressive to kitsch seekers such as Charles and myself:

A chicken dressed as a cowboy standing on top of a building is one thing. But a store name on top of a building that can only be seen from one side of the street and only in full from a fairly far distance doesn’t seem like the most effective signage. Especially with an ‘I’ that looks like a ‘T’ and an ‘S’ that’s hidden by a tree:

The color palette on these two buildings is pretty great:

You probably think it’s the pink building with the 70’s supergraphic relief that I like most.

But it’s the ancient Greek ruin next to it that makes my kitsch heart spin like a drunken roulette wheel:

Ancient Athens is also alive in this statuesque motel sign down the street:

This building may not have Greek columns but that fake wall is pretty classic:

I love round buildings when they come with a matching car:

That scalloped fence would make a nice companion piece to this rooftop:

Normally I would be pointing out the features on the 1950’s motel in back of me but all I can see is the crazy position my lips are in, as if someone Photoshopped them on:

Let’s pull in tight on that:

I’m assuming there are a fair share of lips in weird positions at The Godfather Gentleman’s Club too, just down the street.

And finally, there it was, Beeps, the 50’s diner neither of us knew about until hanging a left off of Van Nuys at Sherman Way and spotting this pulsating pillar of pinkness:

Double cheeseburger, fries and kitschtastic interiors coming up tomorrow. See you then!

 

And now, the  Oscar for Best Motion Picture…. goes to… The Artist!

As I hunkered  down to watch the Oscars yesterday, the first time I had ever watched it alone due to pressing deadlines on my end, I remembered the last time I sat down to watch a global event unfold on TV. It was when Carmageddon was predicted when the 405 freeway had to close for a day in LA last summer. I thought about it a few days before and decided to go through my vast collection of digital images of bad album covers and match them to the demolition/construction events as they occurred in real time. Last night, as soon as I saw Mila Jovovich be the first star to walk down the red carpet…

…I realized I could take the same approach to the Oscars as Carmageddon as the stars continued to arrive:

I pride myself on being a daredevil artist, ready to field any creative challenge thrown down in seconds. So as the Oscars were announced, I gave myself between the time the presenter walked on stage til the moment the winner was announced to scan through close to 5000 images and pick the appropriate stinker LP cover for each category. Here then are The Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch Oscar winners, in the order I posted them but starting with the after party and  final award, and ending with the stars arriving earlier in the day:

Have fun at the after parties!:

Best Motion Picture:

Best Actress:

Best Actor:

Best Director:

Best Animated Film:

Best Original Screenplay:

Best Original Song:

Best Original Score:

The inevitable speech by the head of the Academy:

Best Supporting Actor:

Best Special Effects:

Best Sound Mixing:

Best Supporting Actress:

Best Foreign Film:

Best Makeup:

Best Costume Design:

Sasha Baron Cohen wasn’t the only one who arrived carrying something:

The actors are looking especially fabulous:

Fashions continue to astound:

The stars are in exquisite fashions:

Congratulations to all the Allee Willis Museum Of Kitsch Oscar winners!

 

As we speak, I’m racing out of the house to be on Dr. Phil with Sly Stone of Sly and the Family Stone fame. Normally  I’d be a little excited to be on TV but the show is all about saving another iconic singer from self-destruction. A couple of weeks ago I got a call from a mutual friend who’d worked with Sly back in the heyday to see if I was interested in writing with him because he was clean and sober and a comeback felt possible.

I can’t even tell you how much influence this guy had on me. One of the earliest purveyors of fusing together different genres of music, Soul, Funk, Pop, Psychedelic and Rock, and doing it in insanely wild outfits with a message of peace and celebration. And lets not forget that The Family Stone was the first group EVER to have female players in the band. The music was uplifting and life enforcing. But we all watched or heard about the life slipping out of Sly until there was no music anymore.

Having nothing to do with the phone call asking me if I wanted to write with Sly, I got an e-mail just as I stepped on the dias to honor Lily Tomlin last friday asking me if I would be on Dr. Phil. The show was to be devoted entirely to Sly. I was honored and, trust me, if I can be of any support to someone so influential on me and any other writer, singer, arranger or producer of popular music I’m there. So they shot an interview at Willis Wonderland where I just talked about why Sly was so important in music and that I believed he absolutely could rise again.

And now today, after the show being on-again and off-again all day yesterday as Sly decided whether he could commit to Dr. Phil staying on him to make sure the path stays straight and narrow, I’m racing to throw myself in the shower, find a couple outfits that I don’t have to iron, and throw them and myself into the car that’s coming to take me in mere minutes to take me to the Dr. Phil (sober) House. I have no idea what I’m walking into, both in the near future with Sly’s family there, and in the little farther out future when we (hopefully) start to write. But no one is rooting harder for Sly to once again Dance to the Music and be an Everyday Person ( know I took liberty with People). He’s a noble and just cause and soon I hope to be talking about us co-writing a nice big, fat hit for 2012, The Year Of The Sly.

I’m sure any kitsch lover has a similar dream – having dinner with the kitschy-kitschy-cuchi Charo and bonding like you have been best friends for 30 years. Such was my evening at composer Pietor Angell’s pad with the aforementioned singer, actress, Flamenco guitar virtuoso, CHARO!

Maria Rosario Pilar Martinez Molina Baeza a.k.a. Charo was very nice when we met, no star attitude detected at all, but I knew she had no idea who I was. I made my move when she walked into the living room alone to get a sweater. I told her I loved her spirit and undying devotion to being herself. I also told her I knew of what I spoke and started spitting out a list of songs I had written. Usually people go full-tilt bonkers when I get to “September”,“Boogie Wonderland”, or the Friends theme, but it was “Neutron Dance” that did it this time. Charo went firecrackers, indecipherable words spilling out at 120 mph as she told me she’d done the song in her act. Throughout the evening she proceeded to sing little pieces of it to me. I had no idea what lyric she was actually singing as the accent makes most words undetectable but it was Charo, so who cares?? It was fantastic!!

Seeing as I never knew that this iconoclastic kitsch Goddess did my “Neutron Dance” I almost had a heart attack when she broke into dance as soon as dessert was over.

If you were expecting the entire choreographed number we all can safely assume that that will be coming as the friendship progresses.

I actually prefer intimate moments to full blown peformances. It’s like being privy to Roddy McDowall‘s private footage of Natalie Wood, Paul Newman, Jane Fonda and the hundreds of other stars he filmed casually whenever he went anywhere, including here at Willis Wonderland. I don’t have the footage handy but on evenings such as this one that included the likes of Roddy, David Arquette, Lipsynka, Paul Reubens a.k.a.Pee Wee Herman, Lynne Stewart a.k.a. Miss Yvonne, Debi Mazar, me, Snappy P and Pamela DesBarres, you get a much better idea of who the star really is than watching some interview or performance with them on tv:

I hope you have a happy Monday that includes your own personalized version of Neutron Dance as I offer a toast to Charo with the champagne that was served at our dinner with actual flecks of 22k gold floating in it:

I’m toasting that more adventures with Charo be coming in the very near future!

 

 

On Friday I had the honor of sitting on the dais and speaking at the Pacific Pioneers Broadcasters luncheon honoring my friend, mentor and sometimes collaborator, Lily Tomlin.

It was thrilling being surrounded by so many Laugh-In alumni and friends. (L-R) Leslie Jordan, Kat Kramer, Gary Owens, Sally Kellerman, Lily, JoAnne Worley, me who I’m always surrounded by, and Bruce Vilanch:

Sally, Bruce and I go back to 1974, when I first started writing songs and tip-toed on to the stage:

I just met Leslie, who I had been a rabid fan of since I first saw him on Will & Grace, for the first time a couple of weeks ago when I saw his one man show, Fruit Fly, at The Celebration Theater, where my musical, The Color Purple, is about to do a four month run. Trust me, he will be gracing these pages often.

Alas, a no-show in Eileen Brennan. Though as I was seated next to her it meant I got an extra dinner roll:

Lily gets her award:

Lily and I are about to go back to our hometown, Detroit, to, among other things, attend the first high school performance of The Color Purple, at her alma mater, Cass Technical High School, in April. We’ve done a lot of things together, though this high school thing is about as exciting as it gets to me as I’ve been waiting for high school performances of TCP to happen since I finished (co-)writing the show in 2005. But here’s an earlier instance of us being joined together, when my head served as the model for Lily’s character, Kate, in her Tony award-winning show, The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe:

So I’m looking forward to much mayhem in the future with our honoree. Love you, Lily! MUCH deserved.

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I can think of a lot of things to rent from Abbey Rents but I prefer them to be more in the mode of party supplies than bedpans.

I’m not too big on being sick to begin with.

I’ve been on crutches a few times and still keep a spare pair in the basement. Here was the last time I had them out when I had a torn meniscus in my knee last summer.

I don’t always dress that nice when I’m on crutches but I’m always lucky enough to have friends who do volunteer nurse duty, as was the case with Nancye Ferguson who agreed to match nurses caps and masks with me. I was high enough from those drugs she was dispensing that I didn’t need to worry about snuffing anything out in my bedpan ashtray.

If I think about going one step further and ever end up having to deal with a wheelchair I would soup one up the same way I’ve done with other things on wheels, like this golf cart I customized for a Cars video back in the day. It went from this…

… to this:

While I was writing The Color Purple I was racing back and forth between LA and New York so much and not finding a doctor who could figure out why my leg was hurting. It got so bad I actually switched from crutches to a walker. Believing it’s best to share one’s problems with one’s friends, I threw a party to show off my new mode of transportation.

Ultimately, I’d rather be getting around via golf cart then crutches or walker any day, but should I ever need to up my inventory of sick room devices I will most surely call Abby Rents.

 

It’s rare I have a weekday that’s not stuffed with work, a mish-mash of songwriting, blogging, curating, working on my next live Super Ball Bounce Back show, etc., etc., etc.  But last Friday was one such day and I spent most of it at one of my favorite still-standing places in Burbank, Chili John’s. This is such a serious chili pad I even took the Wienermobile there a few weeks ago:

Chili John’s started in 1900 and is still going strong in Green Bay, Wis.

Chili John’s Burbank, the only offspring, was erected in 1946. All they serve are dishes topped with SERIOUS chili.

The prices are a little different than back in the ’60’s:

As usual, Mark Blackwell documented my culinary experience:

I spent a lot of time documenting the decor:

The entire restaurant is a U-shaped array of formica and bright orange vinyl:

Even the light switches go way back:

In the center of the counter there are vats of different strength chili:

The neon clock over the entrance to the kitchen is classic:

LOVE the fake flower pots and the ‘Chili John’s’ that rim the walls as they meet the ceiling all the way around the restaurant:

But nothing kills me more than the wall mural that runs along the entire east side of the restaurant:

As photogenic as the decor is, I spent most of my time photographing the food:

And what food it is! The chili dogs, with varying-degrees-of -spiciness-chili are INSANE…::

…as are the Sloppy Johns:

The chopped onions add a crispiness to make for a cornucopia of textural wonderness.

You can get a glimpse  of other dishes here. All the foodstuffs are definitely a two-fisted job:

Mark and I started with the excessively wonderful and creamy lemon pie, pictured below but solo-photo-of-which I forgot to take, and then dove backwards into the main course. As you can see, the take home cartons were already poised to be loaded:

Here I am in the kitchen to check out how the secret seasonings are brewed:

Owner Alec  Loguercio pours the fixin’s into a giant grinder:

Then it’s all tossed into a pot that’s so big it’s stirred with an oar:

Chili John’s is a family run joint. Alec…,

…and his mom, Debbie,…

…who was there the day we pulled up in the Wienermobile.:

Sue Mell, family friend, also pitches in:

It’s no secret that I love hot dogs. I don’t care what’s in them (though Chili John’s offers a choice of beef, chicken or vegetarian dogs).  They’re health food for the soul.

Put that hot dog under a bed of homemade chili and then put that chili dog in a setting like Chili John’s with a seriously friendly staff and the smell of simmering garlic tickling your membranes and you’ve got one happy chilin’ Allee Willis!