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.

.

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!

 

Me and Lily are planning our trip to Detroit in April to see the first high school production of my musical, The Color Purple, at her high school, Cass, and my conducting the glee club and marching band at my high school, Mumford. We’re also going to be taking a lot of meetings to figure out something to do in Detroit together permanently.

Then out for stupendous fried chicken, yams, greens, mac & cheese, peach cobbler and brownie gooey cake at MP’s Soul Food in North Hollywood with RuPaul, Tom Star and Ben Bove:

Life is exceptionally sweet!

 

In addition to my classic cars, a 1955 Studebaker Commander. nd a ’55 DeSoto Fireflyte…

I also have a more common Beetle and Mini. Both of my classic cars have been up on blocks and serving as planters for years until mommy saves enough pennies to restore them. So it’s my more normal cars that cart me around on a daily basis. But I’ve never really been a fan of something that looks exactly like something else, especially if it’s as ubiquitous as a car. So soonafter I got both of them in 2004 – I’ve been a Beetle owner since they came out in 1999, this being my 3rd and final one – I looked around for every aftermarket piece of chrome I could find as both come as nude as cars can come. As a consequence, both vehicles are now abnormally overloaded. The Beetle, for example, has features like a grill and eyelashes…

…fancy shoes,…

… quite a fetching gas cap…

… and color-coordinated interior parts.

The Mini has custom seats,…

… blinged initials,…

…a custom steering wheel and gauges anywhere they would fit despite me not knowing what any of them do,…

…and now, a 1950’s Oldsmobile Rocket 88 hood ornament to make it even prettier!

I’ve collected old car parts for decades. I used to make furniture out of them:

When I realized that it just took up too much space building these things, I stopped. That was in 1988. But the voluminous amount of boxes full of door handles, hood ornaments, badges, and anything else used to decorate cars still fill my storage garage. Somehow it felt only natural to bring this baby out of the box and into the open-air.

This feat was accomplished by Mark Tomorsky, my art fabricator and Soup To Nuts stage partner.

Thank you, Mark, for desecrating my hood so that the Mini (and my hair) now have wings to fly!

 

When it comes to kitsch, there’s always an excellent chance of it thriving in a 99¢ store. Even more so when it’s a penny less:

Once it’s one cent less than the kitsch standard, there’s a guaranteed level of cuckoo-ness going on in many of the specially made products that suck up shelf space like muscles on a reef at these places. There’s so much wrong about this particular product that makes it makes my eyeballs spin.  First, I always love when essential information about the capabilities of the product are hidden once the product is inserted in its plastic packaging.

Also nice when the product name itself is covered once the product is secure in the package.

Even better is when the product in use is illustrated and there’s no clear connection between the graphic and the product.  I don’t know what this leather-like attache case and accesories are supposed to show about the prowess of contact cement.  Was the entire set fabricated using it?

Even better is the implication of the second “use”: gluing together an entire dining room set!

The directions on the back stress  to always avoid “cintact” with eyes.

As far as the rest of the jumble in the directions, I thought I was buying contact cement and not plaster…

The uses of plaster and contact cement are quite different. And I didn’t know that there was a materials such as “wood leather” or “cotton yamed”.  And I’m always wild about a misplaced comma as in “same or, various substances”. All of which leads me to conclude that this kitsch find couldn’t be more of this if it tried:

No one loves vintage architecture more than me, especially 1930’s through 1970’s modern. But sometimes I drive through the city of Los Angeles and my eyeballs literally cross in ecstasy when I see stunning architectural details of an entirely different ilk such as the Greek themed hunk in the photo above. I have no idea who first mounted a fake column on a building in efforts to make otherwise bland boxes of stucco into things more grand, but I can’t thank them enough for feeding this kitsch lover a massive dose of what they love best every time I pass by one of their buildings. The idea of splitting a column in half and gluing it on in attempts to make it look like the column is supporting something and to add stature and beauty to these edifices took quite the mind to create. Here’s another example just down the block from the last Grecian temple:

The Valley, where all these beauties featured today come from, abounds with such cut-in-half Grecian style:

And then there’s this approach:

Just throw everything on the lawn and cover what was once an incredible 1930’s Deco bungalow with that hideous kind of stucco that takes off layers of skin should you come in contact with it. But if you’re going for that, there was never a more noble champion of Greek comedy/tragedy than the now-debunked House of Davids right smack dab in the middle of Hollywood:

Let’s take a closer look:

Sadly, owner Norwood Young disassembled his collection and closed the doors of Youngwood Court, as it was officially named, a few months ago. The good news is that one of the Davids made it my way as a birthday present from aKitschionado Mark Blackwell a couple of months ago:

So now, even Willis Wonderland has a touch of Greece to liven it up.

I don’t know about you but anytime I’ve tried to use a sponge made out of this kind of super-aerated foam I may as well be dragging a Kleenex over what I’m trying to clean. In other words, this never would have made it home with me had  the three sponges that comprise it arranged into anything other than a piece of cake. Although it’s a little generous to call sponge #3, the strawberry, a sponge:

Barely over in inch high, it would be more appropriate to call it an all-too-tiny piece of foam that your cat or child could choke on.

I will say that the frosting sides of the two pieces of cake are more practical than the cake portion itself. Although the form underneath doesn’t give it much support, at least there’s a shot of scraping something off a surface if one positions their cake right.

As tempting as the sponge is to eat, it comes with ample warning:

I just noticed when reading the label that this is actually called the “Shortcake sponge”. I don’t know about you, but any shortcake I’ve eaten has a more biscuit-like texture. This is a stone cold plain ol’ slice of vanilla cake with strawberry frosting.

The slices are made by one of my favorite companies for these kind of products that at once make sense and don’t make sense. Made in China but produced for Japan by Daiso.


Some of my other favorite essential Daiso products include the sauna jacket

…the apple comb

the Mayonnaise Case

… the portable banana keeper

… and the Love coasters.

The designers at Daiso must’ve been so excited about the impracticability of the tiny pop-out letters of the Love  coaster that they decided to go for it again with that stupid strawberry.

But God love them for the kitsch they create like the good-enough-to-eat-but-not-good-enough-to-clean-your-dishes cake sponge.