What makes Stephen Colbert tick (with laughter)

Nation, if you want to make Stephen Colbert break character on "The Colbert Report," I have two words for you: Shout. Out.

The show's "Shout Out" segment not only gives him a chance to interact with viewers, but also features a sound clip of Colbert shouting "Hey!" while crude animation between two Colbert photos depicts the shout at the bottom of the screen.

The only thing more jarring to the viewer than the sudden "Hey!" outburst is watching Colbert smile or giggle upon hearing it. He did it last night, and I've seen him do it at least one other time, and each time, it fills my heart with laughter and/or cholesterol.

And that's tonight's W∅rd.

CNN asks if you are a racist or possibly a racist

While avoiding a tired Michael Richards joke, I want to mention a poll published on CNN's Web site today: "Do you like people of your own race more than people of other races?"

The answer options? Just "Yes" and "No."

Now a vote for "Yes" holds at least some degree of racism, but a vote for "No" could as well, depending on how you answer the question. If you like other races more, you're a self-hating racist.

As of about 4 p.m. today, 48 percent of 34,813 CNN voters said "Yes," while 52 percent said "No." Draw your own conclusions, now that I've ruined the integrity of the question.

Related.

Debra's Believe it or Not

OK, I'll admit it. I watch "Celebrity Paranormal Project." On a regular basis.

The show's been reasonably tame for a few weeks, with a couple of fun cameos by Gilbert Gottfried and Ernie "Remember me from Ghostbusters?" Hudson.

And then there was last night's episode, featuring MAD TV's Debra Wilson, who seems like a bright, stable person when she's not (allegedly) possessed by an unhappy spirit, as seen at the 4:10 mark of this video:



I'm not sure if I believe her, but dude, when Wee Man's freaked, you know some serious ish is going down.

They sign off their funny newscasts with 'That's news to me' and 'That's what's happening'

Last night in Times Square, Kevin Nealon and Robin Quivers were on opposite ends of the chat spectrum.

10:30 p.m.: I'm heading south en route to an ATM, when I see Nealon on a break from filming something in front of MTV's headquarters at 1515 Broadway. I decide to offer him a conversational, non-shouty "Kevin Nealon rules" as I walk past him. No reaction.

There are many reasons I don't blame the former Saturday Night Live star for not responding. Perhaps it's because he can't hear me. Perhaps it's because he's getting his makeup touched up. Perhaps it's because about 1.2 million people are walking and gawking right by him. Perhaps it's because the pressing flow of pedestrian traffic pushes me past him before I have the opportunity to say something else. Or perhaps it's because saying "(Celebrity name) rules" is the most uncreative thing to say to any celebrity. I blame all of the above.

10:37 p.m.: With cash in my pocket heading back north toward the W Hotel, I read a couple of lines that are on Nealon's TelePrompTer. So if you happen to see a bit featuring him in Times Square saying something to the effect of "Now let's go back in time. Let's say, oh, about 1 million years," you can say, "Hey, Chris was there when that was being filmed." And you can send me royalties.

10:41 p.m.: So I'm approaching the W Hotel at 1567 Broadway, where it's fun to unwind at the seventh-floor Living Room bar and people-watch. On occasion, I've also spotted my fair share of celebrities hanging out there. So as I reach the main entrance, I see Ms. Quivers wrapping up a conversation with a woman and we make eye contact as we both head for the entrance. I smile and show her my Sirius S50 (Fred Norris would probably play a "boing" sound effect for that remark -- but for those not in the know, the S50 is a portable radio), and tell her everyone on the Howard Stern Show is doing an awesome job. She's very pleasant and cordial and she looks beautiful.

Immediately trying to find something more creative to say than "Robin Quivers rules," I ask her to tell notoriously bizarre show writer Sal the Stockbroker to calm down. She laughs and I wish her well as she takes one of three elevators up to the seventh floor. I could have gotten in the same elevator, but I opt for the next one as a courtesy.

The Howard Stern Show itself actually taught me how to approach Quivers. Basically -- and obviously it's different for everyone -- I totally understand and respect the philosophy of that show's entire staff: It's OK to say something nice, but don't invade space, don't ask for a picture or autograph, and let them get where they're going.

Hooray!

Smells Like Shark Sandwich

Via BestWeekEver.tv, I learned about The Brickshelf Gallery's collection of rock bands replicated through Legos.

So, OK, I'm game. Who do you think of when you see this picture?


Most of you probably answered Nirvana. I answered Spinal Tap.

As much as I dig Dave Grohl, I still like my answer better, especially since Kurt Cobain played guitar left-handed.

That's not riiiight!

For Suburbarazzi, I interviewed comedian Kevin Meaney today at 5 p.m.

Hilarity ensued.

Me 1, TMZ 0.

Within five days of becoming Suburbarazzi's newest celebrity blogger, I scooped famous gossip site TMZ by five minutes in reporting the DWI charge handed down against Rip Torn. And according to early Google News data, I'm probably the first newsie to report the story overall.

Winner: 3:40 p.m. EST.

Loser: 3:45 p.m. EST.

Note: TMZ has since updated that page several times, but both that site and I had similar information when the stories broke.

Hooray!

It all adds up

I collect portions of a police blotter every Monday for my job, and I found the following local item to be particularly amusing:

"Complainant reports the theft of calculators. Value of the missing property is $211.46."

Hmm... I might have stuck around that day to see if 10 calculators fell to the floor when that cop took off his hat.

Red Bull can only do so much

I think if I ever resorted to medical testing to make an extra buck, scientists would discover a new affliction known as Weekly Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, because I find myself taking a three-hour nap every Sunday.

Either that or I should just go to bed earlier every night. (Nahhh.)

Pret-tay, pret-tay, pret-tay bad

I had a "Curb Your Enthusiasm" moment a couple of weeks ago when I was at the gas station. Mr. David, if you should want to include this in your show at some point, feel free, as long as I receive a guest spot on your show in return. (You're welcome.)

So on my way home from work one night, I pull into one of those gas stations that's exclusively full-service. When I have the option, I always prefer self-service to avoid incidents like the following.

The gas station attendant fills up my Tiburon's tank at a cost of $30.50. Being the anal-retentive freak that I often am, I give the gas station attendant exact change while sitting in my car. During this transaction, he drops one of the two quarters and the fallen coin rolls around on the dark pavement to parts unknown. The attendant kindly says, "Don't worry about it." His response annoys me.

In reality, I drive home at that point without incident. But here's how I picture the scene unfolding with me/Larry David in the car and special guest star Paul Scheer as the attendant:

Me: "Uh, aren't you going to pick that up right now?"
Him: "Hmm?"
Me: "The quarter. Aren't you going to find it?"
Him: "Nah, I'll find it later."
Me: "Huh. (Tilts head during three-second pause) Okaaay."
Him: "What?"
Me: "So, the quarter'll just sit there."
Him: "I'll look for it later."
Me: "No, you won't. It's pitch black out! Tomorrow morning, someone else could take it."
Him (miffed): "What's it to you? You paid in full."
Me: "But I didn't pay for someone else to walk by and pick it up! That's a waste of my money!"
Him: "Look, buddy, whatever happens to that quarter is my business now."
Me: "Not if you never see it again!" (Gets out of car.)
Him: "What are you doing?"
Me (Palm outstretched): Give me that other quarter back."
Him: "What?"
Me: "You heard me. If you aren't going to use that quarter you won't bother to find, I'll use the other one. Give it back!"
Him: "That's ridiculous! That gas cost you $30.50, and that's what you gave me! Get off my property!"
Me: "Not until you give me that other quarter!"
Him: "It's. A freakin'. Quarter!"
Me: "But it's my quarter!"
Him: "No, it's not!"

A scrum unfolds, and a cigarette lighter that carried some mildly amusing significance earlier in the episode falls out of my pocket and ignites a pool of gasoline next to the pumps. Seeing this, the attendant and I bolt off the property just in time to watch the entire gas station explode. We look at each other silently, mouths agape.

(BUM, BUM, BUM, dadalada-da-dadalada-da-dun-dun-dunnn, dun-dun-dun dadalada-da-dadala-da, da-dun! Whee! Boom!)*

*This was my sorry attempt at the show's opening/closing theme song. Preceded by my sorry attempt to write a script for a show that's supposed to be improvised. My apologies.

Reverse the (Campbell's Soup) curse

Call me crazy, but I'm guessing before Seattle Seahawks quarterback Matt Hasselbeck agreed to an endorsement deal with the Campbell's Soup people, he asked them to wait until he got hurt before releasing the ads to prevent more serious injury. I hadn't seen any of his ads prior to this week's Monday Night Football game, when he returned to play after missing a month with a knee injury.

You think I'm kidding? Witness the brothy burdens placed upon fellow Campbell's Soup pitchmen, Donovan McNabb (torn ACL, out for the season) and Ben Roethlisberger (appendectomy/motorcycle accident without a helmet), whose ads appeared before their more serious injuries.

I mean, "Soup is Good Food" and all that, but it won't help you when you're on Injured Reserve.

Bringing a little Basketweaving to the tri-county area

Thanks to my Gannett colleague Ted Mann, I am the newest contributor to The Journal News' entertainment blog, Suburbarazzi. Basically, it covers any news involving celebrities who have a connection to Westchester, Putnam and Rockland counties.

Take a looksie at my first Suburbarazzi contribution as well as my quasi-professional bio for that site!

Who's got the best faces this fall?

If the year is 1988, the answer is Balki, Roseanne and Columbo:



Gotta love the emotional, soulful solo at the end, complete with piano vamp.

T-E-A-M! TEEEEAMWORK!

Maybe I'm just bitter I never made it past the New York City audition to be one of those "Reading Rainbow" book reviewers. But here's some sweet, sweet revenge that takes the form of a "music video," whose lyrics I still know verbatim some 20 years later:


I'll attempt to pick 10 sequential highlights from the infinite options:

1. Wow, where to start? OK, how about the skintight florescent green and pink outfits? Also, those girls don't have a lot of, um, coverage on the lower half. Thank you, Public Broadcasting!

2. At the 52-second mark, you'll see a random finger-pointing action, which makes no sense unless you remember the whole episode. If I recall correctly, earlier in the show, video director Sammy Dallas Bayes was looking for a way to pep up this sequence, so music director Steve Horelick agreed to add a spiffy drum riff to the score. So the finger-wagging was a cue to the viewer: "Hey, remember that part we added?" Yes, and that has made all the difference.

3. At the 1:13 mark, the waitress/dancer on the right makes a phenomenal one-handed grab of three falling paper plates. It would have been even more impressive if the plates weren't taped or glued together in some way, as closer inspection appears to reveal. But still, nice grab there, Alice!

4. At the 1:20 mark, is it just me, or does the chef look a lot like Clayton from "Benson"?

5. At the 1:55 mark, check out the last leg of the human-made fire engine. Just how exactly is the piggybacking woman contributing to said teamwork?

6. At the 2:02 mark, LeVar Burton's attempt to help with the ladder is weak at best, a nuisance at worst.

7. From the 2:22 to 2:46 marks, well... there are no words. Bonus points for a basketball backboard that looks like it was a fourth-grader's art project.

8. Some totally rad Van Halen-esque guitar licks from the 3:16 to 3:25 marks. It's seriously impressive. PBS seems to understand that even as an 8-year-old, I WANNA ROCK!

9. At the end, I love how all of the dancers get so excited. But what are they excited about, exactly? And yet, it's quite endearing.

10. LeVar gives us sage advice. LeVar is the greatest. I'm not joking.

UPDATE: Thanks to GorillaMask and Cracked for the awesome linkage action! That's what happens when we work together... as a team!

ANOTHER UPDATE: Thanks to the 6,000-plus(!) people who visited this blog post on Nov. 22! That's teamtastic.

'Avenue Q' meets 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?'

As someone who takes improv comedy classes, I know how difficult it can be to be funny in front of an audience without a script. But I'm not lugging around a piece of felt while I'm doing it.

So, of course I was taken aback Monday night when I was flipping through the channels and found the choreographer from Showgirls on TBS, taking audience suggestions for improv scenes featuring foul-mouthed comedians strapped to carefully constructed pieces of felt.

Hand-happy hilarity, thy name is Puppet Up.

I'll say this much, as many scenes flopped like Snuffleupagus' nose, but others were really, really clever and amusing. The level of difficulty, of course, was unlike anything I had seen in the world of improv, so even when I didn't laugh, I admired the unbelievable multitasking.

No pressure or anything: Just stick with the audience suggestion, be funny, synchronize your off-the-cuff words and defined expressions with those of the puppet, be funny, interact with other puppets, keep it aligned with live cameras that crop you out of the picture, and be funny. Otherwise, it's totally easy.

If these guys ever gig in New York City, I'll definitely be in the audience.

If the concept of R-rated Muppets sounds oxymoronic to you, just remember that Jim Henson's creations were supposed to be a prominent part of "Saturday Night Live" when the show launched. So hearing his puppeteers, more than 30 years later, cursing up a storm isn't too farfetched.

Somewhat related: I'd just like to give a shout-out to any celebrity who's ever been on "Sesame Street." You earn automatic cred with me. (Remember: Put down the duckie if you wanna play the saxophone.)