My parents were not theatergoers and my youthful memories are not filled with reveries of family trips to New York to see shows. I can remember being taken to the theatre only twice as a youth by my parents, once in 1969 in New Haven (Fiddler on the Roof, national tour) and once in about 1975 on Broadway (The Magic Show). Yet there was something embedded in my DNA which made me interested in performance; I was writing plays (almost all adaptations of existing works) in elementary school with very little frame of reference and undoubtedly even less skill.

I longed to be an actor, and vividly remember my envy of Danny Bonaduce on The Partridge Family, thinking if he could be on TV, so could I. This was a bit odd, because I was a rather socially awkward child who didn’t mix well with most kids in my elementary years; I read constantly and had to be pushed outside into fresh air, where I invariably kept reading. Unlike many drawn to performing, music didn’t have a big role in my childhood, outside of Top 40 AM fare once I had my own little transistor radio. My parents didn’t have a record collection to speak of; I do recall my mother’s beloved two-disc set of Harry Belafonte at Carnegie Hall, and some assorted children’s records, such as the Mary Poppins soundtrack and Danny Kaye’s Mommy, Give Me a Drink Of Water and Tubby the Tuba. Cast recordings, which loom large in the memories of theatre pros, were absent, save for Fiddler on the Roof (culturally imperative, but rarely played) and West Side Story (likewise, but we only listened to “Dear Officer Krupke”).

So I’ve often wondered how I managed to be cast in lead roles in each and every show (save one) that I auditioned for in junior high, high school, community theatre and college, and why being on stage or in speaking in front of large groups has never frightened me. I’ve come to understand that part of the appeal, and the ease, came from the stage offering the exact opposite of day to day life. On stage, I always knew what to say and when to say it, and when I did it right, I was rewarded with laughter and applause. It was a startling contrast from the uncertainty of casual interaction. Where did I learn this skill? Comedy records.

As a tween and teen in the early 70s, in the pre home video era, I was completely entranced by comedy recordings both current and from the relatively recent past.  My brother and I came together primarily over our basement record player and the comedy collection scavenged from yard sales (and Monty Python on PBS). We had a bunch of the earliest Bill Cosby albums, the deeply politically incorrect Jose Jimenez In Orbit, a Smothers Brothers disc and (purchased new, smuggled in) George Carlin’s AM/FM and Class Clown. These are the ones that come to mind; there may have been more.

We listened to these albums over and over as if they were music, and reached the point where we knew entire routines by heart. Not just the words, but the pacing, the inflections, the comics impersonations of other characters and performers. Each routine was a song, and we would recite along with the records. We worked to perfect Carlin’s Spike Jones “hiccup” before we’d ever heard a Spike Jones record. We were mesmerized by them, long after the surprise of the jokes had faded; of course, the contraband Carlin album made us very adventuresome among our peers because of its “dirty” language (we were perhaps 12 or 13 at the time).

I never of thought about these records as scripts, but they were almost sacred texts to us. If we learn to perform first by imitating and later by finding our own style, then we were taking a suburban master class from performers at places like The hungry i in San Francisco before we’d ever been on  an airplane and before we would have been old enough to gain admittance even had we managed the trek. The lessons ran deep: a couple of years ago, a gift set of Carlin CDs accompanied me on a road trip, and my wife was both amused and annoyed by my ability to recall every moment with precision, despite my not having heard the material in many years. Did I ever find a style of my own, moving beyond mimicry? That’s for others to say.

My actual performing years were brief, covering 1977 to 1981, 10 shows in all. I was perhaps the fussiest Oscar Madison in history, since most see me as a Felix; I probably shouted more than any one of the 12 Angry Men as Juror 3; I managed to make the characters of Will Parker and Albert Peterson the most inept dancers in their history. I suspect I was best in roles that called for comedy over movement or voice: the Woody Allen stand-in Axel Magee in Don’t Drink The Water, the meek Motel Kamzoil in Fiddler, and the dirty old man Senex in A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum (my college’s newspaper noted a distinct Jewish paternalism in my performance at age 19).  Whatever I had, I owed not to the performers from the Golden Age of Theatre, who I would only come to know later, but to the stand-up comedians who were the writers and performers I took close to heart – if for no other reasons than that they were repeatedly accessible on the technology that was available to me.

I do not suggest that aspiring performers should run out and start learning comedy albums by heart, though one could do worse for understanding timing and pace. Of course, now we can watch and not merely listen to comedians and work out their full routines step by step; I wonder whether the visuals would have added to our mimicry or distracted us from the deep concentration on words and delivery that took place as a ritual in our cluttered basement, our nightclub of the mind. But I am sure of one thing: there are many ways to find one’s way to the stage, and mine was through the storytelling and punchlines of some modern masters of the comedy genre.

P.S. My vocal coaches were Tom Lehrer, Stan Freberg, and Allan Sherman. But that’s another story.

Ha! Made you look!

Let’s face it, we click on tweets, or posts, with a headlines like this one all the time. Shrewd folks playing in the fields of social media know that to get your attention, they need a grabber. It’s what sold newspapers once upon a time and it lures you to all kinds of content on a daily basis, even if the content doesn’t always support the sensational come-on. As with every infomercial, we can’t help wonder if what’s promised isn’t actually as good as we’re told; as with every con game, we’re willing to be lulled by the belief that some people have a secret that has long eluded most of us. In an era when a highly trafficked source of news and information rigorously chronicles “side boob” photos, the title above is downright dull in its allure. Although not to the right readers.

Since you’re here, let’s take a few minutes and dissect that headline, and consider what makes it tick, o.k.?

1. Numbers: Apparently, people like to know what they’re getting into, so quantification helps them make a decision to explore. If I’d said 100, you might have thought that you didn’t have time. If I’d said three, you’d figure there’s nothing really there. 10 is a reasonable number —  high enough to avoid the appearance of simplicity, low enough to appeal to a generation that now calls in-depth reportage “longreads.”

This isn’t necessarily new. A number of popular religions subscribe to The Ten Commandments (the stone tablets, not the DeMille film), so Top Ten lists are fairly ingrained in the consciousness of many, reinforced by Letterman’s nightly humor by numbers. That’s right: I blame God, Moses and Dave for this redictive approach.

We also seem to be drawn to round numbers, even though I would argue they should make one suspect from the get-go. How can rules, guides, what have you, always manage to work out to multiples of five? Sure, if it’s choosing the 25 Best Side Boob Photos, you can impose an arbitrary limit, but neat numbers setting forth ideas suggest to me that there’s always been a stretch to make things align, so they’re padded, and not all equally of value.

2. Guaranteed: Nothing in life is guaranteed, and that’s abundantly true in social media. Don’t we all get a chuckle every time someone talks about just having shot a “viral video”? “Viral” videos happen, we don’t create them, they’re viral only in hindsight. If anyone knew the perfect formula for widespread attention in social media, we’d all be doing it, just as if there was a right way to put on shows every one would be a roaring success. There’s no question that if you claim to have nude pictures of Prince Harry, and actually do, you’re going to garner a lot of attention, but even a nude photo of your artistic director is going to have limited appeal in just about every case (exception: Spacey).

As someone who shares a great deal of content on Twitter and Facebook, I can tell you that my most popular content has proven the most surprising. The most retweeted items I’ve shared were a late 1960s music video of a singing Leonard Nimoy with Spock-eared go-go girls (554 RT’s) and a mock apology to England for Sherlock’s losses at The Emmys (429 RT’s). My most popular blog was about my wish for greater respect for community theatre; under the title “Theatre The Theatre Community Disdains,” it has been viewed 300% more than my next most popular post. Yet these are all small potatoes compared to what can be achieved by celebrities, or cute animals. They’re not viral; they’re the common cold.

3. Social Media: There is no singular, unified social media. Social media is now a pretty broad category of sites and apps that seek to connect people, known to each other and strangers alike, though some manner of electronic communication. Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Foursquare, Pinterest, Myspace (heh, heh), Instagram and countless others can all be easily categorized as social media, along with plenty of up-and-comers and also-rans (Google+, cough cough). So, unless you are actively engaged on every significant social media platform (and as an individual or small arts group, I suspect you don’t have time for that), it’s quite possible that some or all of the vaunted advice doesn’t even pertain to something you use, even if it is on target.

4. Hacks: While this word can mean everything from cabs & their drivers to incompetent, in this instance it’s derived from “hackers,” those greasy-haired, t-shirt wearing, basement-dwelling computer geniuses* that do everything from foul up corporate websites to reprogram the Kobayashi Maru scenario, exerting their will precisely where no one wants them to be. So “hacks” promise some illicit secret that will give you a competitive advantage in the dog-eat-dog social media jungle.

There’s only one problem. If it’s in a headline on a publicly available site, it’s hardly a secret, and therefore not much of a hack. It surely doesn’t involve fiddling with code or hardware like a real hacker. Use a rule of thumb I was once told about investing: by the time a great stock tip is featured on the front of a magazine, you’re too late. It may not be a complete waste, but you’re way late to the party.

You can’t hack social media. It takes goals, strategy, and a good deal of time to build an effective online community. Can you buy “friends”? Can you give them incentive to “like” you?Apparently, yes. But as in life, it’s not about the number of friends, but the strength of relationships. That can’t be bought.

5. The Arts: Exactly what does “the arts” cover, anyway? If you follow the editorial leadership of Sunday’s New York Times, it could be movies, TV, theatre, dance, rock music, classical music, opera, painting, sculpture. Although on Friday, they make a point of breaking out “fine arts” from the rest of the pack, so it’s not a one size fits all term – just like social media. The generality draws you in, often to find specificity irrelevant to your needs and interests.

But let me now turn that around, and suggest that if you’re only drawn to posts and tweets about the arts, or sharing those same items, you’re probably being too narrow. The social media practices of in other fields might be perfectly adaptable for your purposes; while there are wonderfully innovative people in the arts, there are also great ideas in other professions, and if you only stop for items about the arts, you could be missing out on a lot of great thinking that hasn’t yet trickled into the arts sector.

*   *   *

Now that I’ve dissected this common come-hither construction, you have two choices. You can use it to save time by not reading every bit of ostensible wisdom you come across and looking at some things that may seem off-topic but intriguing. Or you can use its fiendishly clever ruses to draw more attention to your own work and ideas. It’s up to you.

* This is the stereotypical depiction of hackers as portrayed in works of popular fiction. My apologies to all fashion-conscious and hygienic hackers with elegant workspaces.

*   *   *

Update 11/5/12 2:30 pm  Just hours after posting this piece, I learned of a brilliant, deadpan, satirical video produced by the Canadian ad agency John St., promoting a mythical service called Buyral, which purports to allow you hire clickers to give your online video the appearance of going viral. It’s quite superb. I hope it never comes true.

Oh, it won’t be so bad!

At Christmas time last year I found, a poem doth make a pleasing sound

Among tweeps with whom I chat all year, and kindhearted kudos did appear.

But lest I fall back and just repeat, I set myself a different feat

So without much sense or reason, I celebrate many in a diff’rent season.

If your name’s not here, please don’t feel snubbed, I forgot, or simply flubbed;

I ran out of time, or rhyme — imagine I’ve rendered you in mime.

As you read, remember that, this symbol is silent, it’s called @.

Last but not least I must admit, the meter’s not perfect, though I worked to fit.

So I say to those who would note a wrong, “Hey dude, it’s for fun, and it’s not a song.”

*    *    *

As the leaves begin to fall, and shortened days do cast their pall,

Many frightening sights are seen as we prepare for Halloween.

You drift asleep and start to snore, then glimpse e’er-present tweep @DLoehr,

And as your thoughts begin to rage, from the dark leaps @ShentonStage.

While you descend through levels quartzy, you wonder whether good @BenSchwartzy

Will stop your fall, but then there’s pains. Some voodoo plot from that @MattCaines?

Your plunge unchecked, you’re moved to fret, as you drop faster than @Hudsonette.

Plummeting past other friends too, you wonder, “What offense did @JoesView do?

Am I nuts, an addle-pated boobie?” “You’re not,” you’re told by @CassandraKubi,

“And if you complain a bit too hard? Well here’s what we did to @TravisBedard.”

“This is the price I pay?,” you ask of @Beebea. “No, it’s on us. Call it a freebie.”

Aghast you turn to spooky @SimsJames, to see him burst into blazing flames,

No sight of heaven, you head below, to the wails of @JakeyOh;

The temperature enflames your hair, to naught but laughs from @LindsayAbaire.

The heat doth rise, you start to burn, under baleful gaze of @JennaStern;

Who’s laughing all the way to Hell? That rhyming imp, once called @HuntBell.

And who awaits on Satan’s veranda? Hip-hopping @Lin_Manuel Miranda,

Beside him, reduced to quivering wreck? The snarky wit @DavidYazbek.

@WarrenLeightTV waves hi to you, inured to shock by SVU;

And who’s espied in that spectral lobby? The damned-by-Mormon @LopezBobby.

Seated hard by to record this tale, there’s Ph.dead @DERagsdale;

Also chronicling profound trauma, is chuckling critic @PeterMarksDrama.

Avoid fiery spheres, skillfully flung, by eagle-eyed targeter, quick @LFung.

For help, you rightly try to reach out, but there’s no assist from @TerryTeachout.

In one corner, don’t you scoff, or you’ll be singed by @DItzkoff,

With him, singing “Helter Skelter,” media maven @BrianStelter;

Viewing this, you start to swoon, discovering that it’s no @Carr2n.

Used to cold, so sheer out of luck, is Torontonian Kelly @Nestruck.

Iniquities first are small you see, explained by @NPRMonkeySee

“There’s no cable”; you grumble “ick,” but learn of dispatches from @Poniewozik

Nor @Netflix either, that’s upon us, but still: reports from @Slate‘s @JuneThomas.

Then passing by, pushing bloody gurney, now-soulless songstress @JuliaMurney

Carting bodies to the devil’s bower, attended to by dark @DDower

Surrounded by assaulting sound, the banshee voice long named @HowlRound.

Controlled only by @PollyKCarl, cruel Cerberus does start to growl

He’s agitated in these parts by optimism from @NancyArts,

Who’ll soon learn she is no longer human like fellow journo, fierce @matttrueman.

Now you’re ferried cross flaming lake, by sepulchral @PlaybillBlake

Who’s aided by a skeletal fella, her friend in life: that’s @FDilella.

“That scent in the air, perhaps its cinnamon?” “No, it’s brimstone,” says J. @Zinoman.

Despair creeps in, you start to cry, “No sympathy!” shouts @BarbaraChai

“You should have known you’d take this fall,” hisses visionary @KatoriHall;

“But all I did was make fun of a witch.” That’s your mistake,” declares @ClydeFitch.

“You never should have been so glib,” adds shape-shifting @ChrisJonesTrib.

“Indeed,” whispers @GeorgeHunka, “That’s something that you shoulda thunk-a.”

“Enough!,” you cry, “I’m already spent!” “You’ve seen nothing yet,” intones @RobKendt

“I was good,” you plead, “That’s what I thought.” “Not good enough,” chirps @DiepThought.”

@_PlainKate_ directs this fiendish din, while dramturged by @AnikaChapin

Who thought this up? It’s hardly a shocker, it sprang from the brain of @Kockenlocker.

@Ouijum stokes the intense fire, aided by evil @KrisVire;

Can terror be @reduced by @AustinTichenor, presiding o’er this ghoulish kitchen, or

Will the pain simply go on? “’Fraid so,” confides @MCahalane.

Perhaps you’ll rise from ash, like @LindaInPhoenix? “Nope,” bellows @LynnBrooklyn, “So get your kicks.

There’s those who party before turned to jelly, like astute @EVincentelli,

@TheCraptacular found ways to have their fun, by ranking trolls before they’re done;

Directors @LloydJamie and @JerHerrin, chose to enhance this massive scare-in

By throwing an electric heater, into the bath of @NewYorkTheater;

And @MarthaPlimpton got all culty, she sacrificed @CharlesMcNulty.

@KwameKweiArmah and @DavidHenryHwang, boy did they like doing wrong,

Gave @MrJasonRBrown a fit, by dangling his bride @GeorgiaStitt

Over our giant sulfurous lake, tended by @ElissaBlake.”

“Is there no appeal? You have a quorum?” “What, is this @TheShakesForum?

You seek judgment wondrous fair? This ain’t no democracy,” sneered @JimHebert.

“In any event, you’re a total loss, you’ll not be saved by @TylerJMoss

And though compassionate once was she, there’s no reprieve from @WhitneyJE.”

“Now, on one foot, begin to hop,” says beetle-browed @ArtDecoStop,

“Perhaps 100 years of that, and you’ll be joined by @ProductionKat,

As well as @Tim_Mik and fair @NoPlain, they all will share that constant pain

And if you dare to stop for breath, I’ll give you to @KChenoweth,

For though she may be small in size, she likes to sup on juicy eyes.”

Is that another tormentor coming on? Yes! You quake, seeing @MooreJohn

Joined in his perpetual torture biz, by that dastardly @ShowRiz,

They’re jokesters, see, they’re tying a frog on to the face of @AlisonCroggon

And they’ve transformed to a flamingo, the good-hearted @ColmanDomingo.

Another subject of their clever fun is @RobertFalls201

Who’s joined to Ireland’s @GarryHynes by pricking quills of porcupines.

As your body wracks with sobs, do you spy good friend @BackstageJobs

Why yes, look, there’s a hellish theatre, with @TeresaEyring as its greeter

The show, you hear, has good report, from vigilant @KenDavenport,

You buy a ticket from @GoldstarJim, who proffers discounts by his whim.

Dead-tweeting snarky japes and snipes, former good gal one @Spinstripes;

The space is narrow but your starved body fits, right next to critic @KennedyTwits.

It must be press night, for you see @PatrickHealyNYT,

@TheJoeDShow and @FeldmanAdam, all waiting for actors, to get at ‘em.

Will a comedy deflect their scorn? No, it’s a dark play by A. @Ayckbourn.

There’s also a musical by @ValerieVigoda and @BrendanMilburn, they wrote a

Paean to the fiend who’d serve us, on a platter (he’s played by @Cerveris).

If actors exhibit any sloth, they’re poked with a trident by @Jordan_Roth;

Aiding in prompting all to play, is multi-faceted @Kimberly_Kaye.

While chastising late-comers, those foolish slink-ins, is the not-to-be messed-with @TonyaPinkins.

It’s a remarkable cast. Did you suppose you’d see @AnikaNoniRose?

Or that from runic texts, you’d hear a lick, sung by @AudraEqualityMc?

@SFosterNYC shred buns, of her fellow castmates, the young ‘uns,

You find that in life @JeremyShamos had sold his soul to get real famous,

And @JimmyJindo, @MJMcKean, they play out a zombie see-in

Of graphic horror, things filled with pus. You whisper to @JulieHennrikus,

“I just can’t bear this, can you, pardner?” “Well, “she says, “If @LynGardner

Manages to keep her seat, I’ll have to watch them turn to meat

@Dramagirl and @GBenAharon, without revealing I’ve got my scare on.”

What would @nymag make of this culture, subject it to some scorn from @vulture?

Even when you were alive, you could be flayed by @scottstagedive.

The bodies rendered, @NPRScottSimon, digs some graves and then pours lime on

@KristofferDiaz and @MRBplus, as the crowd round you murmurs, “One of us.”

You flee the theatre and in heat feel hail, a favorite prank of @YouveCottMail.

@BroadwayGirlNYC, delighted, tweets joy in a place so cruelly blighted,

You wonder if there is a fix in, some bribe all give to @AndyDickson?

“Is there some favor he can do me?,” you inquire of @GlennSumi.

“No,” he sighs, “Not on heaven or earth, even commended by @AlliHouseworth

Will not make torment remotely fair, just suffer like @TheStage’s @SmithAlistair.”

At long last you come to learn, there’s no escape. Says @SherryStern:

“Your soul has long been placed in hock, with @NPRMelissaBlock,

Be very careful, don’t abandon your wits, or you’ll end up like @AdamSymkowicz

He thought he could be one of hell’s comedians, but that berth’s been given to scribe @Gwydions.”

Then @Antoni_ssf bursts in, joined by @WTFest’s @JGersten

Shouting, “Go! It’s your time now, man, you have to see the cruel @ChadBauman.”

This gives you such a chilling start, you cry to be saved by @TheatreSmart

Or @DevonVSmith, digital maven, can she construct some private haven?

Anything to block this world so harrowing, perhaps @markcaro

Or @PiaCatton, she can be tough, and fight for succor, just enough

So that brutish @HellerNYT won’t assail you, and if not free

Some music might be heard all over, a bit perhaps from @RyanScottOliver.

Then all at once, in this damned place, clouds of smoke obscure your face,

You drop to the ground, start to scuttle, defying this ruse by wily @AShuttl,

Or perhaps it’s more cruel games, devised by @BrianDarcyJames.

The ground it continues hard to shake – and with that, you bolt awake.

You are no Scrooge, what you’ve just seen, is merely brought by Halloween.

So go and give to children candy, and everything will be just dandy.

Pervasive in commentary on every major political campaign is the use of the word “theatre” to describe acts made for show rather than substance, and it perennially has those who love and respect theatre a bit riled. Meanwhile, I read and watch political coverage and have come to think that instead of resembling objective news, campaign reportage takes on the trappings of sports. As a result, in this election season, politics, sports and the arts have bled into each other in my mind, as follows.

“That’s it for the weather, and it sounds like it’s going to be a great weekend. Now it’s time for our nightly arts report, with everyone’s favorite cultural chronicler, Biff Lefkowitz. Biff?”

“Thanks, Elise.

It’s been a crazy 24 hours in local arts, especially on the theatre scene. The Springfield Stage Company, riding high on the success of their Shakespeare series, stumbled today when it was revealed that their Prospero and their Miranda were heating up the Equity cot between shows. We all know that one has to suspend the imagination when we go into the theatre, but now that nobody can picture them as father and daughter, there’s lots of inappropriate laughter on the line, ‘The isle is full of noises’.”

“Sounds a bit too close for comfort, Biff.”

“Apparently not for the enthusiastic couple, Elise, but for everyone else. The front office is going to have to get control of this before it damages the rest of the season, because all of this publicity is going to give Shakespeare a bad name, and turn off the essential soccer mom audience. It’s going to be tough, because there’s some compromising footage making the rounds on YouTube. Steamy stuff.

Meanwhile, Springfield Theatre Works is jumping on that gaffe as an opportunity to poke a sharp stick at their cross-town rivals, hustling their production of Oedipus as the steady, reliable and proven option for explorations of intra-family affections.”

“Biff, isn’t that an underhanded campaign on the part of Theatre Works?”

“You know what they say, Elise, in art and politics, what’s fair is foul and foul is fair. But there’s no question that the Stage Company folks are tearing their eyes out right now over this Oedipus thing.

When it comes to momentum, you’ve really got to hand it to the upstart Little Theatre of Springfield, with their rotating rep of Yasmina Reza plays. Though leavened with laughter, her bleak view of human relations is resonating surprisingly well across almost every demographic during this time of economic uncertainty.”

“But I hear the pundits have mostly given the shows a thumbs down, Biff.”

“You’re right Elise, but while the professional naysayers have been trotting out their usual canards about the absurdity of French female playwrights being translated by an Englishman for American consumption, exit polls are showing that for all the carping in the press, audiences see that commentary as nothing more than a plain white canvas, devoid of any real meaning for Joe the Certified Public Accountant and Jane the Corporate Lawyer. And that’s who comes out in force for the arts.

The Little Theatre is also benefiting from a comparative wave of support from outside interest groups, like the Springfield Arts Council and the National Endowment for the Arts. This kind of extra-community money can really tilt the playing field, giving this tiny company a louder voice than ever before.”

“Let me jump in here for a moment, Biff. I’m hearing rumors that The Little Theatre is benefiting disproportionally from  their robo-telemarketing calls, funded by a private foundation that isn’t required to disclose the size of their gift.”

“Yes, Chuck, I’ve heard that as well, and it seems like the phone rings 12 times every night at my house touting this play or that. We won’t know the actual amount of money being expended until it’s time for the company’s tax filing, and that comes long after the season is over. But there’s no denying that private money is now the name of the game in the arts, and it’s starting to look like whoever gets the most these days wins.

Elsewhere, the post-performance discussion at the Springfield Theatre Lab got a little heated when an audience member accused the company’s artistic director of regularly trotting out too many canned talking points each season and not allowing for enough spontaneity. But this outburst won’t even last one news cycle, after the Lab’s dramaturg explained that all theatre is scripted. You really have to wonder what that person was doing in the audience in the first place.

Finally tonight, it looks like the expected Broadway transfer of the Springfield Players’ terrific production of author John Q. Populist’s comedy A Little Something For Everyone isn’t going to happen. Like so many shows that have a common-sense message that rings true for so many, it’s being crowded out of the field by productions with big names and songs to sing. The Players team has waged a scrappy campaign that resonated with lots of folks, but they just can’t get past the entrenched wisdom which says that without a sharply defined target audience of die-hards, you just can’t break through in the big leagues.”

“Thanks for that report, Biff. Are you seeing anything tonight?”

“Well, Elise, I’m going to go home for a bit, just so I can hang up on some telemarketers. Then I’ll be heading to the Springfield Cinema to see the NT Live screening of This House, their new drama about British politics in the 70s. I doubt I’ll understand much of what’s going on, since I can barely follow our own elections, but ya gotta love those accents.”

“And that’s it for us here tonight. As we leave you, enjoy this clip from the Luxembourg Zoo of three newly hatched penguins. Because, after all, while we may not agree on politics or theatre, we always have time for adorable animals. Good night.”

My friend Frank Rizzo of The Hartford Courant apparently spends a good bit of time listening to NPR. On more than one occasion, it has caused him to have little eruptions on Twitter. His frustration is caused by the repeated refrain of, “That’s a very good question,” from a presumably wide variety of guests.

Now I have no idea which NPR station Frank listens to, or which programs, but I don’t doubt his characterization at all. I am quite certain that he hears this all the time, and not just on NPR. We all do, though we may not even realize it.

“That’s a very good question” is a ploy that media coaches teach interview subjects to use; I imagine a number of people have simply picked up the phrase for their own use, through the very repetition that has Frank riled. Following a question from a moderator, a fellow guest, or perhaps an audience member in a town hall setting, “That’s a very good question,” along with its cousins, “I’m so glad you asked me that” and “I’ve been giving that a great deal of thought,” does two things at once.

The first thing it does is buy time. Only the most verbally dexterous can immediately formulate a perfect answer to a complex inquiry, so “TAVGQ” is a reflexive placeholder, preventing dead air or the dreaded, drawn-out “ummm…,” while an answer, or perhaps a diversion to a less fraught topic, develops in some other portion of the brain. In confrontational situations, it prevents the moderator from scoring points by pressing the topic in an available gap before the guest even replies to the original question.

Secondly, The Phrase That Shall No Longer Be Spoken also flatters whomever has asked the question, because it praises their interrogatory skill and, even if it doesn’t fool them, it shows the listeners or viewers what a sympathetic, considerate person the interviewee can be.

And so, with decades of experience, I’d like to offer new conversational placeholders during media opportunities, to allow the gathering of wits, and which in many cases can serve to redirect a troublesome dialogue.

1. “You’re brave to broach that. Who among us hasn’t confronted that issue and been afraid to talk about it openly?”

2. “Before I answer that shrewd query, I’d like to make certain that you don’t need to put quarters in the meter.”

3. “I was just discussing that at home this morning and it’s amazing that you thought to bring it up on the very same day. Incredible. Psychic.”

4. “I’m so glad we’re going to get into that, but first, may I try on your gorgeous jacket?”

5. “That was such a concern of my late mother’s. I have her picture here somewhere.”

6. “Bill, George, Barack and I have been grappling with that for some time, but not one of us has managed to summarize it as clearly as you just did.”

7. “Before I go on, I have to tell you that your voice is mesmerizing. Do you sing?”

8. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by the image of us in the monitor. Looking at myself next to you makes me think I should stick to radio and print, don’t you think?”

9. “That really is one of the essential questions of modern life, but unfortunately I can’t elaborate on it due to national security.”

10. “Wait! What’s that over there? Oh, sorry, I thought I saw a bat. You were saying?”

Study these phrases and learn them well, and one day soon, you can speak to the media skillfully, taking control without ever lapsing into the predictable.

You’re welcome.

Sherman, the boy adopted by the dog Mr. Peabody, and my failed avatar.

It began, I believe, Friday afternoon, on a whim. Although I tend to the pedantic in my blogging, I can be taken by whimsy. Any of my Twitter followers can tell you how enamored I am of hashtag games.

The inciting event, such as it was, was spurred by the fact that I’ve been on Twitter for some three and half years now, and the same photo has been my identifier, my avatar, throughout that time. I thought I’d change things up a little, and so I swapped in a cartoon character. If, as I wrote in a tweet, a prestigious playwright like David Lindsay Abaire could have Barney Rubble as an avatar, I could have fun too. And that’s where I went wrong.

My first mistake was to choose a cartoon character who is not terribly well remembered by many, a minor supporting character on a now-cult TV show that debuted before I was born. That said, the rationale behind my selection would be immediately clear to those who know the show and indeed, messages of charmed approval were the first comments.

But the tone shifted. “When did you make the change,” came one inquiry, impartial, but not at all supportive. My follower count began to slide, albeit slightly. “That doesn’t look like you,” commented another. So after firing off some 100 tweets last night during the Olympic closing ceremony under my new persona, I awoke this morning and asked my followers their opinion. There were a handful who recognized the character, and made the connection (although my college roommate, a fellow trivia buff, didn’t get it). A few people said that without the old photo, they didn’t register that tweets were mine, because they were used to the old avatar. My comments wouldn’t be noticed when quickly scanning a feed.

So as quickly as I became I cartoon, I reverted to myself. There were a few farewells, but a rather passionate response from Robert Falls, artistic director of The Goodman Theatre, convinced me that reversion was the right thing to do. “Thank GOD you’re back!,” tweeted Bob. “Can’t explain why other image was disturbing – just didn’t match your Twitter voice. Seriously.”

And so my whimsical avatar, who was, incidentally, Sherman, the boy adopted by the dog Mr. Peabody on Jay Ward’s Rocky and His Friends (often referred to as The Bullwinkle Show) is banished from my tweets. Privately, I remain in possession of assorted Sherman memorabilia, as friends invariably enjoy giving me hats and plush dolls emblazoned with his image. I have that to amuse me.

Of course what had happened here was that, over the course of several years, I had established a brand on Twitter, and I had arbitrarily violated the expectations of that brand. The cartoon character didn’t represent the online persona I’d cultivated over time. Had I started with it, it may not have been an issue (although a cartoon is hardly the best persona for the range of theatrical content I curate daily). Since I don’t actually know most of my followers, nor they me, it was as if I’d had plastic surgery, badly, in order to enter witness protection.

So my inadvertent experiment this weekend turned in clear (albeit anecdotal) results in record time. Once you establish your personal brand in social media, stick with it. If you’re just playing around with friends, knock yourself out – use a funny avatar. But if you want to be heard, if you want to be recognized, pick an image and stick with it. If you’re an arts organization, don’t change your avatar show by show: stick with your company logo. If you want to be taken seriously, or use social media professionally, be yourself. And to thine own self be true, as some old guy once said, even in this brave new world of social media interaction.

In my case, I don’t think there’s been lasting damage, but if I’d gone on, there might have been. And unlike Mr. Peabody and Sherman, I don’t have a WABAC machine that would have allowed me to set things straight. And if you don’t get that last reference, look it up.

Yes, you read that right. I am advocating getting rid of adorable little ducklings in order to advance the cause of the arts in the United States. Getting rid of them from national television news, that is.

This morning, during the first segment of The Today Show, the portion of the program supposedly dedicated to “hard news,” roughly 20 seconds of airtime was devoted to a story about baby ducks being rescued from a storm drain. I do not recall where this gripping tale of survival had occurred, only that the duckies were safe. Whew.

This follows on the heels of last night’s NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, which included reports on the new low-calorie Slurpee, The Avengers passing the $1 billion mark at the box office, Thin Mints being the most popular flavor of Girl Scout cookies (as if there had been doubt), current trends in baby names, and a segment on the dog that won Britain’s Got Talent.

This is not exactly a new phenomenon, this ongoing degradation of what is considered news, but the aggregation of so many meaningless stories on a single network in just over 12 hours got my dander up. Because I do not have multiple DVRs or an intern, I cannot do a comparison as to what stories were worthy of airtime on CBS or ABC at the same time; I take it on faith that the Slurpee story did not make it on to PBS’s The News Hour (though their sober coverage of such an important dietary advancement might have proven rather entertaining). I suspect I missed some really terrific fluff.

Whenever I see stories like these, I wonder why national television news rarely finds time for the arts. Yes, if Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark starts injuring actors again, you can bet the networks will be right there. When The Book of Mormon introduces the first $1,000 theatre ticket, we’ll hear about how expensive theatre is. But showcasing the excellence and breadth of the arts, even in 30 second snippets? That, apparently, is not news.

Further evidence of this phenomenon. Have you ever read about a production of Sam Shepard’s Curse of the Starving Class? I’m willing to bet that if you have, it focused on the live lamb the script requires, and the care requirements for said infant sheep. It’s a perennial and always engaging, as they grow quickly, don’t take direction and tend to defecate at inopportune times. Or take last summer, when there was an uproar and significant coverage when the Royal Shakespeare Company skinned a dead rabbit on stage and they were forced to substitute a prop bunny. That, apparently, was arts coverage gold, sustaining my theory. Cute animals = coverage. Endangering cute animals or trafficking in their corpses = even more coverage.

Must America’s orchestras, opera companies, dance companies, and theatres produce only baby-animal themed works? Or must they take baby animals hostage en masse in order to get attention? Has soliciting coverage of the arts been reduced to pandering or kidnapping? I have previously suggested that getting celebrities arrested during protests in support of arts funding might draw attention, but apparently Streeps and Kardashians alike have an aversion to orange jumpsuits, so that’s gotten nowhere.

News directors, please leave the animal stories and pictures to the Internet, which was apparently built specifically to disseminate such “aw”-inspiring material. And with the time you free up, maybe you can spare a minute for the arts now and then. If you do, I’ll spare my pet baby koala from anything untoward. Promise.

O.K., so it’s not “This Is Your Pilot Freaking.”

Though I see journalism and criticism discussed and dissected six ways to Sunday in article upon article, blog after blog (and I’m often an avid participant), headlines tend not to be a significant part of the discussion of arts journalism. The “star rating” system gets a lot more attention, as of course do the reviews themselves. But headlines can have an enormous impact on your impression of a review, or a show; like stars, headlines may, for an enormous number of readers, be all they ever learn about a show.

Good headline writing is a talent, a craft, and that holds true in old-line print media or online. The Huffington Post seems to have made its fortune on headlines that promise more than they deliver, harking back to the best of true tabloid journalism, but dammit they make you look. None of us are immune to the lure of shrewd headline.

As someone who surveys the internet daily for news stories of theatrical interest, I marvel at the headlines I see, some clever, some mundane, some inadvertently hilarious. While there are fine editors of all stripes who contribute to headlines (the general public doesn’t realize that in many cases, the writer of the article has no participation in the process), there’s no question that at smaller outlets that still generate a lot of copy, the process of headline writing can become a bit rote. In the most absurd cases, I envision a lone editor, late at night in an empty newsroom, wracking their brain for copy that will fit both the story and the allotted space.

My imagined editor seems to work on a lot of theatre reviews but apparently doesn’t go to a lot of theatre, and so I muse upon headlines I suspect most of us would not want to see; endless alliteration, bad puns, inadvertently risqué or even offensive juxtapositions pouring from a sleep-deprived mind, one that may have only read the review cursorily. Consequently, here’s a selection of 25 headlines I created for a range of plays and musicals – all to accompany positive reviews, as going negative is too easy – with the hope that it will make its way to arts copy desks across the country as samples of what not to do.  But I can assure you that these are very close to the reality I see daily.

• Where’s the beef? Steer yourself to prime AMERICAN BUFFALO
• Don’t paws, run to (litter) box office: CAT on TIN ROOF will have you feline HOT
• Fine end to CORIOLANUS, but you may be bummed out
• Insane fun to be had at nutty CRAZY FOR YOU
• Miller spins tight-knit yarn about SALESMAN’s DEATH
• Piercing EQUUS quiets the neigh-sayers
• No woe at MOE show, so grab FIVE GUYS and go, shmoe
• Kernel of corporal punishment makes LIEUTENANT OF INISHMORE generally great
• LITTLE WHOREHOUSE turns tricks into trade, hooks audiences to happy ending
• Compelling climax in THE ICEMAN COMETH
• You’ll want to preserve JELLY’S LAST JAM
• No need to hope for charity at LEAP OF FAITH
• NIGHT time is the right time for Sondheim’s MUSIC
• Oh, my: THE LYONS is a tiger, bears seeing
• Missed I and II? You’ll still enjoy MADNESS OF GEORGE III
• MA RAINEY’S BLACK BOTTOM is tops
• M. BUTTERFLY emerges in unexpected, satisfying ways
• Start spreading the NEWSIES
• NORMAN’s CONQUESTS make him Attila the Fun
• ONE MAN, TWO GUVS: three cheers four you — five stars
• Norris’ PAIN AND THE ITCH receives critical an-ointment
• Local troupe puts impressive PRIVATES ON PARADE
• Current RAISIN IN THE SUN prunes away time’s overgrown vines
• There’s no need to fear, TOPDOG/UNDERDOG is here
• Yes VIRGINIA, Albee’s foxy WOOLF blows the house in

I will close by quoting a long-remembered headline, 100% accurate, that accompanied a glowing review for a show I worked on once upon a time: “Crawl Over Ground Glass to See This Show.” Enticing, huh? Truth can be stranger than fiction.

Nonetheless, now it’s your turn. Can you craft some headlines that stumble on the fine line between clever and stupid?

When reading aloud, for which this is meant,

Please keep in your mind that the @ is silent;

For names unfamiliar that cause you to think,

Fear not, as each one is a link.

To all real poets, I send utmost apol’gies

Most of all to R. Angell, king of this style of homilies.

*   *   *

In 2011, a year oh so sweet,

I truly engaged in the world of the tweet

For news and for humor, I must give my thanks

To at least some of the folks who fill out its ranks:

When I am in need of a funny retort,

I steal from the master @BorowitzReport.

For my twitter one liners I have gotten the hang,

From the comic machine, one @JohnFugelsang.

Sometimes I find that I laugh ‘til I cough

With rapid witticisms from wry @ditzkoff,

But when I want theatre news, then the best tweets to see,

Are those that are tagged @patrickhealynyt;

And @HellerNYT, please don’t critique my poor meter,

As I’ve struggled to name your gang at @nytimestheater.

All news from the Times may come out helter skelter,

But it’s diced, chopped and shortened by fine @BrianStelter;

West coast theatre news is most accurately sung,

In the tweets of @latimes editor, sharp lady @lfung.

Also in that direction, where the weather’s oft fair,

Come dispatches via @moorejohn and @JimHebert.

When it’s news of what’s up in my home state show biz,

I’ve only to turn to @joesview and @showriz.

As our twitter crowd gathers comes a pair of renown,

Please play for us @GeorgiaStitt and @MrJasonRBrown!

I promise that if you’ll just play the piano,

You’ll get zero guff from @ccaggiano.

Our joy and amusement will never be scanty,

Long as we see the work of Miss @laurabenanti.

Or who else to admire, well don’t you suppose,

That we’re just as enchanted by @anikanonirose?

And for late night odd tweets that have us gasping for breath,

Look only to the nocturnal @kchenoweth.

Rock, roll and showtunes surely deserve a hand

For that dynamo Alice and @RipleytheBand.

Among great musical stars, I count myself luckily

As one who can send a DM to @BettyBuckley.

For comic repartee, both swift and not mean,

Doff your cap to Spinal Tap’s great @mjmckean,

I envy him greatly at his end of the rainbow,

Nightly he goes home to kiss lovely gal @JimmyJindo.

For what I write here, I might land in hell,

When compared to the verse of Heights’ Lin_Manuel,

And while naming Tony winners is no longer my hobby,

I call out to another awards champ, @LopezBobby.

From theatre critics’ ranks, I’ll raise a loud shout,

To intrepid arts traveler Mr. @terryteachout.

Opinions? Time Out New York most certainly had ‘em,

With the sage @davidcote and the sharp @FeldmanAdam,

And out in Chicago theatre folks most aspire,

To praise from @ChrisJonesTrib and Time Out’s good @krisvire.

Sing ho, for @AP’s Mark @KennedyTwits,

And though not down with Twitter, the News’s Joe Dziemianowicz.

At the @wsj, there’s a big three-way tie:

Ellen Gamerman, @piacatton and new friend @barbarachai.

While our online debates devolve into “Yo Mama,”

I wish only the best to @petermarksdrama.

For Canadian news, I’ve had the good luck,

To meet @globeandmail’s intrepid Kelly @nestruck.

On drama thoughts British, he’s the West End’s accurate gauge,

The constantly flying scribe Mark @ShentonStage.

Other good English journos, I’ll serve pudding figgy

To The @Guardian’s @lyngardner and her colleague Ms. @chiggi.

Bloggers you shouldn’t miss and I often have thunk-a,

Read wise @parabasis and smart @Geohunka.

If you want your blog reads at a passionate pitch,

You need go no further than bold soul @clydefitch.

For countless articles, and blog posts, we surely all hail,

Encyclopedic digest-er Thomas — hey @youvecottmail!

For all of the satires that they have loosed,

Let’s laugh with the trio known as the @reduced,

And Shakespearean buffs cannot possibly shame me,

As I praise able Bard tender, one @ASC_Amy.

As @2amt grows to influence more,

We owe debt to its founder — nimble guy, that @dloehr.

While praising @2amt, I’d be called a phony

If I omit @travisbedard and @halcyontony.

Applaud @Pollykcarl and also @ddower,

Immersed in new plays that they want to see flower.

Say it’s social media you want to shmooze with,

See DC’s @allihouseworth and @devonvsmith.

Meet the folks behind ads, displays, flyers and hypes,

Here’s @trishamead, ol’ @chadbauman and skillful @spinstripes.

Bravely dipping toes into Twitter, he’s surely the one,

Stalwart Goodman head honcho @RobertFalls201.

While east coasters may think that she’s out in the sticks,

There’s wisdom to garner from @LindainPhoenix;

If you study in Boston, it’s Emerson’s plus,

To offer the classes of kind @JulieHennrikus.

Former colleagues of yore I praise with élan,

@Jcravens42 and fundraiser skilled @mcahalane.

Even anonymous tweeters I’ve goodwill allotted,

To @BroadwayGirlNYC and the sharp @BroadwaySpotted.

Because he’s so gracious, he won’t slander my rhymin’,

Cheers to even-toned theatre buff @nprscottsimon;

And I’ll happily share a most seasonal bagel

With playwright and radio host — wait wait, @PeterSagal!

Compared to most humans, we’re mired in sloth

When contrasted with Jujamcyn’s prez, @Jordan_Roth.

At @TectonicTheater there’s no manager finer,

Than skillful good-natured tweep, their @gregreiner.

You’re feeling parched? Let us drink some wassail

With @teresaeyring and @DERagsdale.

If you’ve known me for years this won’t come as a shocker

That I send holiday wishes to old friend @Kockenlocker.

Another longtime associate whose opinions I rate,

Is the veteran publicist @Bubbles2828;

Among new p.r. folk most particular fine,

I list @deniseschneider and @BrookeM1109.

Warm jacket and mittens I send @TDFNYC greeter,

The cheerful and inventive @EricaMTheatre.

At the @NewVictory, for your kids and you,

Works the good-humored @JamieNYC42.

‘Round restored @LincolnCenter these guys built a fine berth,

@SimsJames and Shakespearean @AWShuttleworth.

Though she’s mostly afar, on the dance floor I’d twirl

My Aussie companion, stalwart show gal @DramaGirl;

While we’re Down Under we’ll get our egg nog on,

For writers @elissablake and @alisoncroggon.

At this season of kindness I must also bless,

Humanist playwright @GwydionS;

To the convicts at Sing Sing @_PlainKate_ brings the art,

She’s admired by me and most astute @TheaterSmart.

There are so many playwrights whose debts we are in,

But I name only @kristofferdiaz and The New School’s @chris_shinn.

To past homes of employment highest praises I’ll sing:

@HartfordStage, @GoodspeedMusicl, @gevatheatre, @TheWing.

For those not found here, please don’t be offended,

Since holiday cheer’s what I fully intended,

It may be that your handle was too tough to rhyme,

Or that after much effort, I ran out of time.

To all who have patience with my obsession Twitter

I shower you all with confetti and glitter,

Here’s to the topics into which we will delve

In the next theater year, two thousand and twelve.

Some are immortalized in stone, others in song.

I, however, now have something truly unique: my very own limerick courtesy of Lin-Manuel Miranda, Tony-winning author and star of the musical In The Heights. Here is the only poem (that I am aware of) ever written in my honor, as a result of my tweeting and blogging:

And here is a man @HESherman,

he writes about Ibsen and Clurman.

He fights for his craft

with every draft,

each column a solemn fun sermon.

It may only be December 1st, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the most exciting thing that will happen to me all day, all week and all month. Muchas gracias, mi amigo.