“It’s hard to stay up, it’s been a long, long day…” Once again, truer words have never been sung. Insomnia’s a bitch and I’m her cranky little plaything. As tired as I have been all day, I look forward to our time together and wouldn’t miss it for the world. Um, almost. I mean, I’ll have to miss it for a couple of days next week while I’m out of town. Hopefully, I can get my fix while in Vegas, but there’s always a chance I’ll have to wait until I get back home before I can fully satisfy my urge for Ferg-uson. Oh my, that just so didn’t sound as great as it should have. Oh well.
Tell me, darling, what’s up with the bouncy, perky, happy, stuff? I’m not complaining, I only want an explanation. A small one. Or half your prescription of whatever it is you’re taking. Especially today since I’m so tired.
On to the show!
Monologue: It’s hunting season all over America. Nothing to hunt in Hollywood, except maybe weasels. I mention hunting because a Swedish hunter spent two days unconcious after being knocked out by a Canadian Goose. I’m still waiting for a duck, a goat, and a rabbi to round out the joke. But, it’s not a joke.
If I were out hunting with my kid and got knocked out by a bird, I don’t think I’d want it in the news. Yeesh! Knocked out by a kangaroo? Sure. That’s newsworthy. Knocked up by a late night talk show host, definitely news. But, no goose. No thanks. (Unless you’re offering to do the goosing, Craig.)
I’m sorry you don’t like birds. Who knew? And here I was calling you my feathery little homing pigeon in last night’s letter. Silly me. I’m telling you, it’s a scary thing when you pick up something I’ve been thinking and use it on your show. Cue Twilight Zone music.
When you were doing your fox hunting bit, you rather reminded me of Vyvyan from The Young Ones. I know it was supposed to be more Prince Charles, but it reminded me of Vyvyan.
And let’s talk about your silly mood tonight. My goodness, man! You were hysterical! You went from fox hunting to fishing to tongue piercings, you cuddly little Southern Hairy-nosed wombat.
Email: Dana got email read. Andrew got email read. You had a third email on the desk that you didn’t read. I bet it was mine. The one about the spiders invading Scotland. That was a good one. You really should read it. On air. And say my name.
North Korea’s in the news again. A visit from Kim Jong Il was in order. Kim Jong “Illin’”, The Apprentice, The Simple Life: DMZ, My Name is Il, Survivor: Pyongyang. Hehe, My Name is Il. And the nuclear symbol on The Apprentice. Nicely done, Craigsy!
Then there was the whole bit about checkin’ in with Chuck Norris on his new TV movie. Why don’t we send him to North Korea?
First guest: Stephen Collins, from 7th Heaven. I remember him from before Heaven. Whatever. He’s wearing one of his wife’s socks. And that’s something to which I can totally relate. No, I’ve not worn my wife’s sock. I don’t have a wife. I have, however, worn two different shoes and not noticed until I was halfway through my day.
You know what Stephen Collins role I like best? Marty Phillips in Jumpin’ Jack Flash with Whoopi Goldberg.
Collins is also a writer. Eye Contact was his first book. Stephen: “I’m almost a man. According to Hemingway, to be a man you must do three things: father a child, write a novel, fight a bull.” Anyhow, forget Collins for a minute. You just talked about your book! I know I speak for many when I say “talk, man! We want to know all about it!”
Okay, so Stephen is in a band. He plays vintage rock, doo-wop, and ballads, which is cool with me. As long as he doesn’t Tesh-out, we’re fine. He plays with Laurence Juber. Juber was in town not long ago and will return to perform on November 20th. (Hey, I know things. I know the music scene in San Diego. Kind of.)
Second guest: Dr. Sanjay Gupta, correspondent for CNN, as well as a neurosurgeon. We like neurosurgeons. Between orthos and neuros, I’m damn lucky to have had some of the best working on my back. I’m sort of glad my docs aren’t off reporting for CNN, though. It’s hard enough to get an appointment with them as it is.
Craig, you asked: Do cell phones cause brain tumors?
Gupta: No studies have shown that it’s true. However, one doctor in L.A. says that’s what caused Johnny Cochran’s tumor.
Whether or not cell phones are responsible for brain cancer, we do know that they’re responsible for traffic accidents and general socially inappropriate conversations. Admit it, how many times have you been standing in the check-out line at the grocery store and heard the girl in front of you discussing what the doctor told her she should do for her Chlamydia. Or what about the guy who’s on the line bragging to his homies about the chick he scored with last night? (Sorry, Craig, the chick just showed up. I’ll kick the powderpuff out. No birds!)
Cell phones can be wonderful, but they’re also often more trouble than they’re worth. I don’t want to hear Ms. Multi-tasker screaming at her nanny about what little Jacob is eating for dinner. I don’t want to know about Mr. Corporate Brown-noser’s urology appointment needing to be rescheduled. And, if you’re waiting in line somewhere and talking on your cell phone – listen up, world – I’m cutting right in front of you. I’m not going to stand around until you finish your chat before moving up to the next available teller, cashier, lab technician, mechanic, or proctologist. I’m just not. Nobody should have to be stuck in that situation. If you’re on the phone and it’s so damn important, get out of line. The worst place to have to hear a cell phone conversation, though, is a public restroom. What on earth is so damn important that you really must talk to someone while you pee?
Okay, back to the show.
Gupta is a relatively new dad. His daughter, Sage was born in June of this year. So far, he likes changing diapers and playing dad. One of the sweetest sights in the world is watching a man interact with his child. It’s tender, it’s touching, it’s beautiful. Yes, I admit that I’ve fallen for more than one single dad in my day. You figure, if he can be that patient and loving with a child, he has that kind of love and patience for a woman.
Where were we? Oh, yeah. Sanjay Gupta. The doctor/correspondent guy.
Craiggles, there have been times when I’ve questioned my sanity as I sat here writing you letters. I feel much better about it now that I’ve seen what goes on over at Guptatalk. Comparatively speaking, I’m so freakin’ normal.
To each his own, I suppose. I’m not sure I see the appeal, but who cares? I have you.
And, tomorrow night, I shall be right here. Waiting. Just don’t bring your cell phone.
Your cheeky wee monkey and saucy little minx,
Discover for yourself what all the buzz is about, check out The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson on CBS, Monday-Friday, 12:30 PM, Pacific. If you can’t stay up that late and/or refuse to record the show, you can always catch up on the monologues and skits on the LLS website.
About the author: Joan’s fascination and adoration of Craig Ferguson is little more than silly fantasy, with a dash of lust, the likes of which are common amongst single 39 year-old women. She lives many miles safely south of Los Angeles and CBS Studios. Her new goal is to make Craig digital camera competent within a week, as well as getting him a bit bird crazy. Joan likes birds. Not cassowaries, but most other birds. Especially cockatoos that like to cuddle. She also likes metal birds. Big metal war birds. Like those flying over her house for the next three days for the big air show in town. In fact, she likes them so much, she’s having her son play hooky from school so they can avoid the big crowds over the weekend. And, she’s going to take her digital camera to photograph them! On a serious note, the commercials for Charmin, you know, the ones with the bears? Those really bother me. They’re almost as irritating as people on cell phones in public places.