Help me ID all the caricatures in the Comedy Store's Twitter background!

The Comedy Store's Twitter background features some vague, tough-to-identify caricatures.

The Store, still on Sunset Boulevard.

Because of Marc Maron's twice-weekly WTF podcast, I've become fascinated with the Comedy Store, a West Hollywood comedy club that for over 40 years has served as a launchpad/proving ground for many aspiring stand-ups and that has also offered established funnymen and women a venue to try out their material in front of a live audience.

Over the years, David Letterman, Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, Richard Pryor, and many more have put in time at the Comedy Store. Marc Maron is a stand-up comic himself, as are the majority of his guests, and "The Store" looms large in their mythology.

The club was founded in 1972 by Sammy Shore (Pauly Shore's father) and Rudy De Luca, who is best known for his many collaborations with Mel Brooks (Silent Movie, Life Stinks, and more). In 1973, Sammy lost ownership of the club in a divorce settlement with his wife, Mitzi Shore (Pauly's mom). Mitzi then used this opportunity to become a self-appointed doyenne of the humor business for decades, offering career guidance to up-and-comers and dating many comedians (including Barney Miller's Steve Landesberg). Now in her 80s and in failing health, Mitzi has ceded control of the Store to others.

But the legend of the Comedy Store continues to grow. Looming largest of all in the mythology is a five-week period in 1979 when many of the venue's regular comedians went on "strike" for nonpayment, including Steve Lubetkin, who expressed his displeasure with Shore's managerial style by jumping off the roof of the building next door, killing himself in the process.

When Maron and other comedians speak of the Comedy Store, it is with a mixture of awe, terror, loyalty, and repulsion. The place seems to have a demonic, semi-seedy vibe to it. What other comedy club has been featured on Unsolved Mysteries? I sincerely hope that Maron someday writes a book called simply The Store. I'd buy the hell out of it.

I've only recently started following the Comedy Store on Twitter, and I couldn't help but notice a picture they were using as their background image. It's a collage of the famous comedians who have played the Store over the years, surrounded by stars and planets.

I'd like to think I'm fairly up on comedy history, but I can't quite identify all the people in this picture. I used the Wikipedia list of Comedy Store alumni, which helped a bit, but there were still a few folks I couldn't place. Maybe you'll do better than I did. Below, you'll see the five "unknown comics" in the constellation. I'm pretty sure the guy on the right is supposed to be Letterman's pal Jeff Altman, but I'm not 100% certain on that. The drawing is so nonspecific that it could be Louie Anderson.

The other four have me stumped. The three guys on the left look like rock stars, and the one woman could be anybody from Elayne Boosler to Roseanne Barr to Gilda Radner.

Look it over and make your best guesses. Thanks.

Here are five famous Comedy Store veterans I can't identify. (Except the last one is probably Jeff Altman.)

I hereby declare a Dead 2 Rights dance party! RIGHT THIS SECOND!

These people are either dancing or reenacting their favorite lightsaber duels.

"Johnny Thunder is best live performer I've ever seen."

-Bob Dylan 

You know what you need in your life? The Muse Terpsichore. For those of you not up on the fruitier aspects of mythology, that's D-A-N-C-E. That's right. You need to boogie down, get your groove on, burn baby burn, disco inferno, etc. That's why I'm officially declaring a Dead 2 Rights dance party right this second. I don't give a damn where you are -- car, work, your own colonoscopy! You're gonna dance! Dance, I say! 

And, here, I've already selected the song for you to dance to. It's "Loop De Loop" by Johnny Thunder from 1963. That's Thunder, singular, not to be confused with the late punk musician Johnny Thunders, who died in 1991. Johnny Thunder, singular, is still alive. He's 82 and presumably retired now, but he's still out there somewhere. 

I discovered this track back in the '90s in a used record shop, where it was on the B-side of a reissue 45 of "Sugar Sugar" by the Archies. As much as I dug that Archies tune, I dug "Loop de Loop" even more. It's got kind of a Jackie Wilson/early James Brown thing going on, except that it's based on a children's playground chant and sounds like it was recorded in an echo chamber with an all-Munchkin backing band. Check it out:

One Song at a Time: "Love Me, Please Love Me"

French pop star Michel Polnareff sings his Frenchie heart out.

The song: "Love Me, Please Love Me"

Artist: Michel Polnareff

Released: 1966

Elvis Presley had at least two major hit singles in 1956 that were direct, unambiguous requests for love. 

"Love Me Tender," which takes its melody from an old folk tune called "Aura Lee," is a swaggering seduction routine set to music. It's audio foreplay, a sexual aperitif etched into wax. The guy in the song is a Lothario type, sweet-talking some innocent girl right out of her poodle skirt. The lyrics are G-rated ("You have made my life complete, and I love you so") and ostensibly wholesome, but you can tell why this guy made parents nervous back then. What did he mean by "all my dreams fulfill?" What kind of dreams did he have in mind? 

The King had another one that same year just called "Love Me," which I like even better. It's supposed to be about a desperate guy groveling at the feet of a cold-hearted woman. ("Treat me like a fool, treat me mean and cruel, but love me!") But Elvis wasn't really the desperate, groveling type, so the song comes off as kinky and masochistic instead. You get the impression that the guy in the song gets off on the rough treatment he receives from this dame. Topping from the bottom, you might say.

A decade later, over in France, a moody, floppy-haired singer named Michel Polnareff had a #1 hit with his own plea for love, "Love Me, Please Love Me." It's just about the most pathetic I've ever heard someone sound on record, and I love it. Most of the lyrics are in French, but you don't really need a translation to get the gist of it. Not when poor Michel is howling in falsetto like a mournful hound dog.

This song demonstrates a level of vulnerability that Elvis Presley never would have been comfortable with. From what I can glean of his delightfully bizarre and eventful Wikipedia entry, Michel was just as troubled in real life as he sounds on this record. You can hear his genuine sorrow in every throbbing triplet he pounds out on the piano. 

I can just imagine some heartsick Frenchman playing this record over and over again, using his last bit of strength to life the tone arm on his vintage record player. Whenever I want to wallow in misery (which is basically all the time), "Love Me, Please Love Me" is my go-to song.

The smudge and its impact on my life

The word "smudge" smudged.

I don't know if its genetics or what, but I have very oily skin. And not just on my face either, though my face is plenty shiny. My fingers, darn the luck, are just as unctuous. I am more oil than man. Or, rather, I am a blob of oil in the shape of a person. Every couple of weeks, I get a new copy of Rolling Stone, because I subscribed to it once when I was 12 and it's just been coming ever since. Anyway, even though RS is a glossy magazine, my fingers still smudge the pages. You can always tell where my thumbs have gripped a particular issue. And writing something by hand? Shit, forget it. Not only is my handwriting atrocious, but I tend to grip the pen or pencil very close to the pointed end, so my hand rubs up against the paper, and I end up with either ink or graphite on the side of my hand. Why am I writing all this down? Because this blog, Dead 2 Rights, is supposed to be a reflection of my life, and smudges are a big part of that life. They're a component of my daily routine, so why shouldn't they be recorded here for posterity? Someday, I'll be able to look back on this article and think, "Oh, yeah. Smudges. I remember those."

Bonus: Can you name the movie which provided the screenshot at the top of this article?

Sorry, but we need to go back to eating geese.

Street vendors are peddling their boiled goose.

Geese are dicks. Sorry, but it's true. They're the absolute worst -- the asshats of the avian kingdom. Compared to geese, pigeons are like cuddly, adorable puppies. Geese have no redeeming qualities. They honk incessantly. They shit everywhere. They terrify pedestrians. And they have little to no respect for motorists. They just flat out suck. And the worst of it is that they travel in packs and waddle around my neighborhood like some demented, feathery street gang. They're like the Crips.

Now, I have heard of people being attacked by wild turkeys, but that has never even come close to happening to me. In fact, chickens and turkeys don't generally bother the citizenry where I live. You know why? Because we eat them! A chicken in suburban Chicago is likely to wind up in either Parmesan or McNugget form. And that's good, because then there's not chickenshit all over the place. And turkeys? They only show up here around November, and that's in the freezer case at the supermarket. But geese? Geese are every damned where.

My solution is simple: we need to go back to eating geese. A lot. I'm talking geeseburgers, geese soup, geese ravioli, the works. Restaurants should be serving spaghetti and geeseballs. Now, you might be thinking, "Gross! I don't wanna eat geese!" Well, get over it, junior! You're officially part of the problem. Geese know that we don't eat them anymore. That's why they're not afraid of us. But once the foie gras starts flowing like tap water, then we'll see!

You need inspiration? Watch any of the seven bajillion movies of A Christmas Carol. The characters not only eat geese constantly, they love it! They look forward to it! It's the highlight of their day! I say, it's time to get Dickensian on the goose population.

A graveyard smash: 10 things you may not know about "Monster Mash"

"Mash, good!": Bobby Pickett's song has been released many, many times over the last 50+ years.

An original pressing of the song.

Though there have been a few usurpers and pretenders to the throne over the years, including tracks by Alice Cooper and Danny Elfman among others, "Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett still stands as the official anthem of Halloween. Released in May 1962, the song hit #1 in October of that year and has been a staple of the season ever since.

The song's origins lie in an impression of British horror actor Boris Karloff which Pickett, a Korean War vet born in 1938, used to do in talent shows in his hometown of Somerville, Massachusetts, in the late 1950s after he'd gotten out of the Signal Core. "Every time I'd do it, I'd win," Pickett remembered. Later, Pickett moved to Hollywood with three of his Somerville buddies and formed a doo-wop group called the Cordials. Part of the group's act was a cover of "Little Darlin'," and Pickett liked to perform the spoken-word monologue in the middle of the song ("My darling, I need you...") in his Karloff voice. His bandmate, Leonard "Lenny" Capizzi, suggested that the voice would be perfect for a novelty record, and together the two wrote "Monster Mash." The rest? Well, you know.

Though he lived in the song's shadow for the rest of his life, Pickett didn't mind a bit. "Let's just say," he told the Washington Post in 2004, "that it has paid the rent for 43 years." In interviews, Pickett frequently compared himself to Guy Lombardo, the bandleader forever associated with "Auld Lang Syne" and New Year's Eve. Pickett happily performed the song at small venues until he died in 2007. So now, let us venture into the lab once again and learn a few things about this crucial piece of Americana.

Ed Wood extra! Talking 'Ed Wood' (1994) on the Disney, Indiana podcast

Minnie and Mickey scarecrows representing the hosts of the Disney, Indiana.

Uh oh! It's podcast time again! Here's another opportunity to run my big, fat mouth! I never turn down the chance to pontificate about something trivial. It's one of the great pleasures of life. Yes, Scott and Tracey Morris, two truly sweet and generous folks whom I've known since my days on Mail Order Zombie, graciously invited me onto their own podcast, Disney, Indiana, to discuss the 1994 biopic Ed Wood, directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp and Martin Landau. As you might have guessed from its name, Disney, Indiana is a biweekly podcast devoted to all aspects of the House of Mouse. That includes films released by such Disney subsidiaries as Touchstone, the company that dared to turn the life of Edward Davis Wood, Jr. into a major motion picture. Ed Wood celebrates its 20th anniversary in 2014, so this was a great opportunity to talk about the film at length. I think we had a good, informative chat about the movie, and I hope my readers will enjoy it. If this sounds intriguing, here are some links to help you out:

• Show notes for the episode, including a list of books discussed

• Download the episode (right click and choose "Save Link As")

• Play the episode in a new window

And if you're still not satisfied, here's an article about the early days of Touchstone that I co-wrote with my good pal, Craig J. Clark. It has nothing to do with Ed Wood or Tim Burton, but I think it's a good read nevertheless.

Mark Trail, you old smoothie

What works for Mark and Cherry can work for you, too!