Thursday, May 21, 2009


with Special Guest Lucy Adams


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NOTE: The following excerpt appears courtesy of Mental Notes Broadcasting Industries (MNBI). Any unauthorized use or reproduction of the pictures, descriptions, or accounts of this script without the express written consent of MNBI, or Lucy Adams is strictly prohibited. Unless, of course, you wanna make someone laugh. Then, by all means, pass it on.

[Returning from commercial break, the house band (KISS) is covering “Safety Dance]

RICK: “Thank you very much. Thank you. Mr. Paul Stanley and the musical stylings of KISS, everyone.”

[Audience applauds]

RICK: [laughing] “Paul, I think you were spelling 'SISSY' dance there.”

PAUL: “I tend to stutter when spelling with my body.”

[Audience laughs]

RICK: [still laughing] “I guess that’s what forced the cheerleading squad to drop you, eh?”

[PAUL smiles and nods, the audience laughs.]

RICK: “Hah, ha, ah. Our next guest is–“ [shakes his head] “No, no really, I don’t know how you guys haven’t busted an ankle stomping around in those things.”

GENE: [holding up a platform boot for the camera] “We’re classically trained.”

RICK: “Right. Hah, hah, ah…"

[GENE sticks out his tongue]

RICK: [shaking his head] “Okay. Our next guest--” [straightens his tie] “Whew" [clears his throat and taps the desk with the edge of his index cards] "Uh, our next guest is a humor columnist from Georgia and is often called the funniest woman this side of the dinner table. She’s written a new book titled If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny, which is available now at Please say hello to the lovely and talented Ms. Lucy Adams ladies and gentlemen.”

[Audience applauds as the house band jumps into a Bluegrass rendition of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” LUCY emerges from backstage and crosses the set. PAUL is plucking a banjo and GENE is on the fiddle. The audience’s cheers escalate. RICK and LUCY shake hands. RICK shows LUCY to her seat next to the host’s desk.]

RICK: “Welcome to the show.”

LUCY: “Well thank you. Thank you so much.”

RICK: “Well thank you very much for being here. Now I’ve tried to explain a little bit about who you are and where you’re from and what you do. Now why don’t you help us out here. Where are you from?”

LUCY: “Okay well, I was born in the small town of Waynesboro, Georgia, in a hospital that was nothing more than a one room shack and the waiting room was in the shade of a pecan tree out on the side lawn.”

RICK: “Huh, that sounds charming.”

LUCY: “Nowadays, I reside in a small town in Georgia called Thomson.”

RICK: “Whereabouts in Georgia is Thomson?”

LUCY: “It's in eastern Georgia, near Augusta.”

RICK: “Oh, that's where they play The Masters, right?”

LUCY: “Yes.”

RICK: “That, uh, big golfing shindig down there.”

[Audience laughs]

LUCY: “Yes.”

RICK: “Now, have you played at Augusta National before?”

LUCY: [laughing] “I’ve never played The National.”

RICK: “You’re laughing. What? The course isn’t challenging enough for you? It’s not suited to your style of play? Not enough beer carts? What? What is it? Why won’t you play there?”

LUCY: “Because it would take me too many days to play 18 holes of golf.”

RICK: “Soooo, perhaps if they’d let you use an RV in lieu of a golf cart, then maybe you’d play?”

LUCY: “Well…”

RICK: “Y’know, park it next to your ball, roll out the awning, set up some chairs and some tiki lamps, take a few hacks at the ball, go inside, make yourself lunch, maybe watch a movie...”

[Audience laughs]

LUCY: “My grandfather played the course once.”

RICK: “Oh, really?”

LUCY: “Yes, with borrowed clubs and knickers. He had never, ever played golf before, and I don't think he ever played again. And based on his track record, no one else in my family has since been invited to play.”

RICK: “See what happens when you don’t follow the rules. Let that be lesson to you folks out there, always return your knickers!" [straightens his tie] "Now, when I’m watching The Masters on TV -- which is a beautiful, lovely course, by the way -- and when I’m watching, I’m assuming everyone who lives in that area must have a yard that is as equally impressive. Is that true? Would you say your yard compares to Augusta National?”

LUCY: “Yes. My yard definitely compares to The Augusta National. It compares to it in the way the phrase 'Git-er-done' compares to 'Let's finish this project in a timely manner.' It compares to The Augusta National in the same way Elvis's birthplace compares to Scarlet's Tara. It compares to it the way a greased pig race compares to a debutante ball.”

RICK: “Or Paul Stanley compares to Paul Shaffer.”


[the drummer plays a rim shot and PAUL waves to the audience]

LUCY: “We did, sort-of, kind-of, get Yard of the Month once. When the Garden Club rep came by late at night to put out the sign, she mistakenly put it in our yard instead of the neighbor's. And before anyone from the Garden Club could fix the error, the newspaper had already taken a picture of our house with the sign in front.”

RICK: “You must've been so proud."

LUCY: "Oh yes, I warmly accpeted the award."

RICK: "Now, does everybody in town know you’re a writer?”

LUCY: “All nine people. Ha, ha. Actually, I write a weekly column in the local newspaper, so most people, at least the ones who can read, know I'm a writer. But, seriously, my community is overwhelmingly supportive and proud of me. I truly wouldn't have experienced the success I have without all of my very loyal readers.”

RICK: “Now, from what I understand, newspaper columnists, unlike television and film personalities, normally have the benefit of public anonymity -- they can go about their daily lives in relative obscurity. But, since you live in such a small town, and everyone’s aware of your propensity to put your experiences in writing, do you think the local folks go out of their way to either be in, or out, of your stories?”

LUCY: “People do one of two things: 1) They either watch what they say around me, or 2) they regret what they say around me; not because I immediately go write about them, but because they have to worry that I will. My biggest trouble with someone trying to set me up to write about him has come from my youngest son.”

RICK: “Oh no.”

LUCY: “Oh yes. We recently had a very serious heart to heart about not doing things just to see if I would write about him in the paper; like setting off the neighbor's burglar alarm. Unfortunately, I ended up writing about the incident, so I'm not sure I made my point.”

RICK : [to the audience] “Well, the police blotter doesn’t write itself." [turns back to LUCY] "Well, I guess if you run out of story ideas, it’s nice to know the kids are there to help."

LUCY: "It certainly is."

RICK: "So your family is sort of caught up in a written reality show?"

LUCY: “You could say that. Much to my husband's horror, folks frequently ask him, 'Is what your wife wrote this week true?' To which he replies, 'Not if it's about me."

[Audience laughs]

LUCY: "Actually, all the stories in If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny are true except one. And there's a clue to which one isn't true.”

RICK: “Ooooo, a little teaser there. I like that. Now, has anyone, friends, relatives, local coots, knowing that you’re a writer, approached you with a story, or a personal experience, they wanted you to write?”

LUCY: “No one ever comes right out and tries to sell me on an idea. Most of the time they say things like, 'You ought to write about that,' or 'I bet we'll see that in the paper next week.' Usually, they don't though. The worst thing to write is what people expect to see. The predictable is disappointing.”

RICK: “Funny, that’s what the critics say about my show."

[Audience laughs]

RICK: "So, ah…what does make you laugh?”

LUCY: “What makes me laugh? Well, let’s see: morbid pet stories, getting caught walking out of the bathroom with my skirt tucked in my panties, my daughter telling me she's looking to hire a bubble gum assistant, sarcasm, plays on words . . . shall I go on?”

RICK: “Please do. The writers on this show need all the help they can get.”

LUCY: “Humor is everywhere, when I'm open to it. It keeps me from taking myself and my daily frustrations too seriously.”

RICK: “Speaking of daily frustrations, maybe we’ve got something that’ll make you laugh too, or perhaps cry -- we’ll see. We’ve arranged a special surprise for you tonight, Lucy. Our stage manager Frank Rizzani and our production assistant Sal Goldberg will reenact one of your stories live. Right here. Right on this stage!”

[Audience applauds]

RICK: “That’s right. They’ve been working on this all morning and I think you’ll soon discover why the Actors Guild has been ignoring them.”

LUCY: “This should be good.”

RICK: “Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”

[Audience laughs]

RICK: “Now, Frank and Sal will be interpreting a story from your book titled…uh, Dr. Seuss Duet. Now, ah, your boys were pretty young when this event took place, right?”

LUCY: [laughs] “Yes, yes they were.”

RICK: [directed towards the curtain] “Are we ready back there guys?!” [voices can be heard from backstage] “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a one-time production of Lucy Adam’s Dr. Seuss Duet.”

[Audience applauds. Curtain rises to reveal FRANK and SAL sitting together in an oversized cushy chair. They’re both dressed in footy-pajamas and they’re sharing a book.]

FRANK: [in his thick Brooklyn accent] “Would ya like them here or dare?”

SAL: [in his frail, 50-something, New York Jewish accent] “Oh, dear gawd no. I would not like them anywhere.”

[They smile warmly at one another, then turn the page together.]

FRANK: “Would ya eat dem inna box? Would ya eat dem widda fox?”

SAL: “Not in a box. Not with a fox! Not in a house! And certainly not with a mouse! What kind of shabby setup are you running here, trying to make me eat with those awful, disgusting animals?!”

[Audience laughs as FRANK glares at SAL. They slap at each other’s hands while trying to turn the page.]

FRANK: “Eat dem! Eat dem! Here day ARE!” [FRANK punctuates the last word with a whopping punch to SAL’s arm]

SAL: [while rubbing his arm] “Oh gawd, you’re killin’ me here!” [sucks in a deep breath through his clenched teeth] “Not on a train! Not in a tree! Not in a car!” [SAL turns and shouts the next line into FRANK’s ear] “SAM! LET ME BE! OR…” [SAL looks back at the page] “I’M GONNA TELL MA!”

[They turn the page]

FRANK: [trying to hold back a laugh, grasps SAL by the collar] “Would ya! COULD YA!”

SAL: [pulling at FRANK’s ear] “Well…listen to me. I would not! Could not! WILL NOT eat that non-kosher filth!”

FRANK: [tearing at SAL’s hair] “Try dem! Try dem and you may, I say! Don’t be such a SISSY all da time!” [pajama-footies thrash about]

PAUL: [heard above the audience’s laughter] Ahhh, hah, hah, haaaa!

SAL: [contorting to read the page] “Fine, Sam! If you will let me be, I will try them. You will see what a jerk you are! NOW GET OFFA ME!”

[With disheveled hair, red-faced and breathing hard, they both turn the page]

SAL: [suddenly calmer] “Saaaay. I like green eggs and ham.” [trying to catch his breath] “I do. I like them Sam-I-am! And I would eat them…” [SAL rechecks the page] “…in a boat. And I would eat them with...a goat…”

[FRANK, with his eyes closed tight and struggling to swallow his laughter, puts an arm around SAL]

SAL: “…in a car. On a train. At the aw-face. They would ALL be fantastic.” [a laugh burps out of SAL, which causes FRANK to start laughing again] “Thank you. Thank you Sam-I-am.”

FRANK: [wiping a tear] “Hey…” [with his voice escalating] “…wanna read it again?”

SAL: [eagerly] “Sure!”

[Curtain falls as SAL and FRANK continue laughing at one another, the audience is in hysterics]

RICK: [laughing] “Frank and Sal everyone!”

[Uproarious applause]

RICK: “Hah, ha. That is some funny stuff. You know, that’s not too far off from how our production meetings go ‘round here. What did you think of our little number there, Lucy? Do you think we did your story justice?”

LUCY: “Well, my kids aren't quite that hairy - I hope they never are, honestly - and their accents have more twang, and they display greater agility and flexibility in their wrestling matches, but other than that, yeah. That's about how it happened."

RICK: “Wonderful, the guys will be glad to hear that. Oh, ah, I see our time has run out and we need to go to a commercial break. Well, it’s been very exciting to meet you.” [holds up book] “The book, If Mama Don’t Laugh, It Ain’t Funny, can be found at, Barnes and Noble, Borders, and Books A Million. You must be very excited about that, huh? And I certainly hope you come back and be on the show again.”

[Audience applauds]

LUCY: “Yeah anytime.”

RICK: “Have you enjoyed the experience so far?”

LUCY: “So far, yeah. It’s been wonderful.”

RICK: “Yeah, good. So you’ll stop by during your next Blogapalooza Tour?”

LUCY: “Certainly.”

RICK: “Great. It’s been a great pleasure to meet you.”

LUCY: “Thank you.”

RICK: “Lucy Adams ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be right back with the musical group The Shins.”

[Audience applauds and the house band plays “Mama Don’t Dance”. Go to commercial break.]

Copywrite 2009 Rick Rantamaki
WIN A FREE "If Mama Don't Laugh" HAT simply by leaving a comment on this post. That will be your entry into the contest. Contest ends June 4th. Winner will be drawn at random and announced on June 5th. This contest is only open to residents of the U.S. with a vaild mailing address.


Angela Dove said...

A virtually fun experience, Rick. Thanks!

Barb Friedman said...

Rick and Lucy - loved it! I laughed, I cried...

Leeuna said...

Wonderful interview, Rick and Lucy. The "Last Night Show" is a great concept.
I also enjoy Lucy's writing and her blog. :)

RRantamaki said...

Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. Y'know, I posted this interview on Southern Humorist, but it’s not received one response from the group, not one. I’m surprised. I figured it might spark some discussion on varied approaches to book reviews and/or online interviews. That group puzzles me.

Mary Noble said...

I loved the Dr Seuss skit. Great show!!

RRantamaki said...

We have a winner! Barb Friedman from Columbus, Ohio wins the "If Mama Don't Laugh" hat. Thanks to everyone who participated. Congratulations Barb.