It says a lot about the Atomic Age that America’s pre-Kennedy First Family, the Ricardos, hawked cigarettes for the holidays. Now we know why Lucy’s voice was lower than James Earl Jones’.

It took me a moment to recognize Robin Leach. Somehow he managed to hold the attention of a beautiful woman while looking like the proverbial unmade bed.

Mickey Mouse circa 1928 was a hellraiser. He dealt squarely with his enemies, but he also played pranks on his friends. And oh boy, do we need him back.

What was the marketing guy thinking when he hooked up The Supremes with a branded white bread deal? Pumpernickel, maybe, but white bread?

On the night the late Michael Jackson moved into Disneyland, a huge party was held. The secretive pop star had paid plenty of commando visits to the Happiest Place on Earth over the years, almost always in disguise, but on September 19, 1986 he made the Park his official home.

It was another hot, dusty Wednesday in LA. I was sitting in my office minding my own business, which is to say not minding much of anything at all. Business had been as brisk as an alpine snail race – uphill.

When I opened my car door there was an explosion of ferrets. They just kept running and squirming their way out of the driver’s door like a fur avalanche.

In the weeks before I met magician/con artist/professional wiseass Penn Jillette backstage at Las Vegas’ Huntridge Theater, I experienced a number of Penn sightings. His towering silhouette would mask out the sun for a moment, and I would feel woozy and disoriented.

My first retail experience was selling sneakers at an Athlete’s Foot store on West 8th Street. It was there I managed to annoy a very young Matthew Broderick.

I was headed for a remote Fijian island, where I could escape the traffic, the Ed Hardy and the ex-reality TV stars of the greater Los Angeles area. Or so I thought.