Well, dear readers, I have breaking bombshell news and I cannot keep the lid on it anymore, so hold on to your hats or your hair or your feet for today I am older than I was yesterday because it is my very own self’s actual birthday, having once been born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. The year was 1947, for those who don’t know, December 8 to be exact at 6:45 in the morning, weighing in at seven pounds three ounces. I was named Bruce Stewart Kimmel. And before I was even a month old it was already 1948. I was not, however, as myth would have it, born in a trunk in the Princess Theater, in Pocatello, Idaho. And here I am today, December 8, 2025, and a brand-new age – seventy-eight to be precise. That seems impossible to comprehend and yet it is so, so one must comprehend. I’m still here, like so much fish. I am, thankfully and gratefully, still working and doing what I love, I’ve done preliminary work on what may be next year’s book, but I have a couple of other ideas, too, so we’ll see which way the wind blows in a week or so, when I’ll decide which one it will be. Of course, it goes without saying that it is my fervent hope and prayer that 78 will be a year filled with health, wealth, happiness, creativity, and all things bright and beautiful. Anyway, enough about me, let’s talk about ME. Let’s talk yesterday, for example, when I was still 77. I only got five hours of sleep again, once up I answered e-mails, then made myself presentable for the short Kritzerland rehearsal. Kerry O’Malley and Ava Madison Gray arrived – we did Ava’s two songs first, and she had them down perfectly. Then we ran Kerry’s songs and since she’s done them all before, they went quickly and wonderfully. Then they left, and I’d ordered food and that arrived just as they were leaving – Maria’s Kitchen – pappardelle with sausage, thanks to a fifty percent off coupon. It was very good. Then I did a few things on the computer and around the home environment, then sat on my couch like so much fish and watched a new documentary on Paul Anka. He’s had an amazing career and life, thus far, and he comes off pretty well. It’s not a lot of talking heads, thankfully, it’s mostly all him talking and them following him around on a world tour. I enjoyed it and I hadn’t realized he’d written certain hit songs. A little birdie told me he’s working on a jukebox musical about his life, with our very own Rupert Holmes writing the book.

Then I watched another DGA streaming motion picture, this one entitled Jay Kelly. What I’d read online about it is that it was all kinds of Oscar-worthy and was going to have great buzz. Sadly, and it IS sadly, it’s a Netflix film, so they gave it a perfunctory theatrical release, where it did approximately $100,000. That, of course, is pathetic and why Netflix should not be allowed to purchase Warner Bros. The reviews were a few love letters and just as many non-love letters. I’m not really a fan of Noah Baumbach – for me, all of his films are derivative of other directors he loves, most especially Woody Allen. And indeed, at times it’s like a sappy cross between Stardust Memories and the Fellini film that inspired Stardust Memories, 8 1/2. George Clooney is fine as a movie star who has failed his wife and kids but has remained a star. He backs out of a movie and goes on a kind of road trip on his way to a career retrospective being held in Italy. Adam Sandler is fine as his manager, and Laura Dern is fine as his publicist. The film is too long at slightly over two hours, it’s never really funny, even though I think at times it’s trying to be, it’s more than a little maudlin and I’m not sure how Oscar-worthy it is, even though that is clearly what Netflix wants. There’s even a gazelle joke. I wonder if Mr. Baumbach reads these here notes?

After that, I had a filet ‘o’ fish and took pill three, and then it was time to write these here notes and get ready for seventy-eight.

Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, I’m being taken for a two o’clock birthday lunch by friend Marshall Harvey, I have to finish the commentary – just two more songs – and then I’m just going to do more organizing, hanging a few things on the walls, and resting up for the very busy week ahead. Of course, I’ll watch, listen, and relax.

Tomorrow is our stumble-through at four-thirty, and then I go directly to the theater for our evening rehearsal. Wednesday, I relax until sound check and then we do our show, and we’ll have some books and CDs for sale for anyone who wants them. Thursday, we rehearse the play, Friday is off, and Saturday we’re back in the morning.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, have a birthday lunch, finish the commentary, organize, rest, then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: Since it’s my birthday, when was the first time you became aware of li’l ol’ me? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have turned seventy-eight and relatively happy I was born.