The Singing Bee was the best reality show of last summer. So where is it this summer?!

Not to fear, we've taken it to the street!

Actually this really isn't about me. This is my interview with the Funniest Girl on Broadway. Kerry Butler is the star of Xanadu on Broadway and she is a riot. You must see this show before she leaves the cast. (If you can't see it with her, see it anyway. It's non-stop laughs. And it's 95 minutes and intermission-less, like most Broadway shows should be.)

Kerry is rare. She's hilarious without ever mugging. She's not outrageous in the least. In fact she sings beautifully. And she manages to be believable in the Olivia Newton-John muse-on-skates role. Don't ask how. Just go see the show if you can.

I know it's a difficult question to answer. But too bad, life is full of tough choices. Now suck it up and choose: Grandmothers or Grandfathers? (But first, watch the video.)

The Whiteygate Tape has been found. Now judge for yourself.

Ever since federal authorities raided the YFZ (Yearning For Zion) Ranch in Southwest Texas, the country - or at least everyone who watches Larry King Live - has been gripped by the images of polygamist wives in prairie dresses. It's easy to snark at their hopelessly outdated couture. (So '90s ... as in 1890s.)

But only one man can offer constructive advice...

Good morning, everyone. We're glad that so many people appreciated our unearthing of the Michelle Obama Whiteygate Tape last Friday. And we acknowledge the anger many felt at the posting of material that might influence the impression some have of the prospective First Lady.

It was indeed a gut-wrenching decision for the Mo Rocca 180 editorial board. Several members were insistent that we withhold or "filter" the tape. But the majority of us sided with full disclosure. After the last seven years, it remains more important than ever that we in the press not suppress information. Journalists are quick to champion "Freedom of the Press." But with that Freedom comes a responsibility to our Public. We need to trust you to discern what matters. And you can only do that with full disclosure from us.

And now for some me-oriented fun! Yesterday on CBS Sunday Morning I did a piece on Wait Wait ... Don't Tell Me! It's a super fun radio quiz show that I've been on six years. My buddy, the hilarious Adam Felber, got me on the show and I can't thank him enough. Enjoy!

(P.S. I'll be posting more written material soon. I know I've been a little video heavy lately.)

John Leguizamo and I are both half Colombian, so I knew we'd really hit it off. By the way I don't think my Spanish is that bad...

Well I'm back from my vacation! Where in the world was I? Pictures to come. But first...

Susie Essman (Curb Your Enthusiasm) is as funny when she's not cursing as when she is. And as you'll see in this interview, she's a true romantic.

I've had the honor of sitting on several Iron Chef America judging panels when Mario Batali has competed. So many chefs attempt to dazzle by, say, stacking the food high (don't be fooled: the taller the food, the worse the taste) or strewing the plate with foam (wherever I see foam, I expect to find flotsam and jetsam).

Mario is all about the food -- bringing out the flavor in whatever's being served. He could cook a brick and I guarantee you my mouth would water. (Yes, I know that bricks are already baked.)

Here's an interview I did with the man...

I've never liked shaving. Yes, I want to feel clean and I do have beautiful skin. (Makeup artists gush when I'm in the chair.) But I can't resist shaving against the grain, so I end up bleeding.

Ever since I saw The Color Purple and watched Whoopi shave Danny Glover with a straight razor, I've longed to be shaved by someone else. I've seen Sweeney Todd on stage three times so I know the danger incumbent in submitting to a shave by a stranger. But the truth is, the element of danger makes it all the more exciting. In the quest for a freshness, I could end up dead!

When I covered the Super Bowl XL for The Tonight Show in Detroit (see second video below), there were all sorts of free giveaways, including the battery-powered Gillette Fusion razor. For my free shave I was seated next to the always friendly Joey Fatone (with whom I share a birthday, along with Jackson Pollack and Barbie Benton). Lara Flynn Boyle was also there, though she wasn't getting shaved - at least not when I was there.

Imagine my thrill then, when my intrepid producer Will Hines and I came upon a truck promoting Philips Norelco's new(?) Arcitec razor. The experience (see below) was pretty wild...



Below is Part One of my Super Bowl XL coverage...


And here is Part Two ...

Give the lady a break.

Everyone is in such high dudgeon over HIllary's remark about the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy in 1968. Hillary is evil! Hillary has a dark soul!

Yes, it was a stupid thing to say -- and her efforts to explain it as a "historical reference" to justify the length of her challenge to Obama fall apart if you know how to count: as others have pointed out, RFK entered the race for the Democratic nomination only three months before he was killed.

What Hillary voiced is what six in ten Americans - and eight in ten African-Americans - have worried about: that someone might try to harm Senator Obama. (55% of African-Americans described themselves as "very concerned.")

Is she supposed to say this? No. Does she know she's not supposed to say this? I think she must. It was a slip -- the kind that happens when a terrible anxiety butts up against a social norm. (I don't know the psychological term for this and it's Memorial Day, so you'll forgive me if I'm too lazy to google it.)

Example: When my friend Lisa's mother died from cancer about 10 years ago, it was a big deal for all our friends. She was the first in our group of friends to lose a parent. The first time I saw her after her mom's funeral was at a brunch in LA. The peppiness was a little forced which I'm guessing she sensed. My understanding of what it meant to lose a parent was non-existent since I had not yet lost a parent. All I could think was, "Be cheerful -- but not too too cheerful. And don't mention death or disease. And certainly not cancer!"

Not ten minutes into brunch I made a quip about - you guessed it! - cancer. Yup.

Better example (and completely unverifiable): My friend Michael told me a story he'd heard about Carly Simon and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. When Oliver Stone's JFK (a movie I loved) came out, the Kennedys were understandably upset. Carly Simon was a good friend of Mrs. Onassis' and knew not to ask about the wacky movie that posited all sorts of irresistibly loony theories about her husband's murder. The two women got together to see another movie. As they sat in the theater waiting for the lights to dim, Carly casually asked, "So have you seen JFK?"

Oops. The one thing she probably promised herself not to ask -- and she went ahead and asked it. Totally embarrassing. And totally human.

Clearly what's needed is this age of 24-hour campaigning is a foolproof safeguard for politicians -- so that the slips that the rest of us regularly make don't assassinate a campaign before it dies on its own. I'm imagining a v-chip implanted in the frontal lobe, where speech is controlled, to block seven words that could sink a campaign. Seven words, the utterance of which only spell trouble.

For Hillary, these are the seven words I'd block:

1. "ASSASSINATION" - It's just very very unpleasant.

2. "EJACULATION" - There is just no upside to any use of this word.

3. "WYNETTE" - Hillary's avoidance of this word (which would only remind voters of the shrewish 1992 Hillary) was rewarded with a solid victory over Obama in this year's Tennessee primary.

4. "HEADBAND" - see Wynette

5. "ROGER" - The vilification of the Clintons' Hollywood friends was an obsession of the fringe right. Who else cared how many weekends Markie Post spent in the Lincoln bedroom? Roger Clinton is a different story, though. His very name conjures reckless behavior and shady backwoods wheeling-and-dealing. (If anyone actually knew the names of Hillary's two ne'er-do-well brothers, I'd block their names.)

In fairness to Roger, he seems like a good guy. And I love his album, Nothing Good Comes Easy:



6. "WAL-MART" - A lot of the animus directed at the nation's largest retailer is uninformed. Nevertheless no one's going to vote for her because she served on the company's board.

7. "BUDDY" - The acquisition of the adorable Chocolate Labrador Retriever during the Lewinsky Scandal in 1997 was a brazen ploy to humanize an embattled President Clinton. (Hadn't the scandal itself humanized him enough?) Socks the cat was swiftly exiled. (Socks was never a good match with the president. Cats are too wary and discriminating to have sex with interns.) But what's really shameful is that Buddy was run down only a few years later in tony Chappaqua. Why? Because the former First Dog wasn't protected with an electronic leash. (Now is that any way to treat Man's Best Friend?) Buddy: a symbol of Clintonian use and abuse.

So what do you think? Do you have different candidates for Hillary's Seven Dirty Words? What should Obama's Seven Dirty Words be? McCain's?

When my readers lent their support to me after the ridicule I suffered from ordering an Old Fashioned, I was deeply grateful. Your own stories of drinks you were afraid to order gave me strength.

I decided to go out and find out from still others what they order to impress a potential mate. Watch, then weigh in:

What do you order to send the right signal? What do you want to see your date order? Conversely what drink's a total Cocktail Blocker?

And now, the conclusion of "Carol Burnett, Judge Judy and the Toughest Decision of My Life" (Part I Here) ...

When Florence Henderson breezed through the doors of the Beverly Hilton, I was filled with hope. Carol Burnett was understandably unnerved by my t-shirt. Judge Judy was at least wary. But Florence was my chance to rehabilitate my image and maybe even get into the ELLAs -- and hear what promised to be an unforgettable tribute to Andy Williams.

I tried to make eye contact with Florence, who had joined the Carol-Judge Judy conversation, but I was blockaded: Carol's husband, Florence's husband, and Judge Jerry had formed a security perimeter around the ladies' Green Zone -- and I was stuck languishing in Sadr City.

I began circling, looking for an opening, but no luck ... until Lainie Kazan barreled through the doors and right into the ladies' Green Zone. (Lainie Kazan = suicide belter?) The cordon had been broken, and I slipped right through. I tapped Florence on the shoulder just as Judge Jerry, acting more like a bailiff than a justice, lunged toward me.

"Florence, it's Mo Rocca."

Last night I saw Charo. And I thought that would be the highlight of my week.

All this week I'm in Los Angeles taping interviews. I'm staying at the stunning Beverly Hilton. The hotel evokes a Hollywood when stars were stars and the Oscars mattered. (In fact the Golden Globes are held in the hotel's International Ballroom.) Poolside the polynesian-themed Trader Vic's epitomizes Mai Tai glamor.

Well today I drove into Hollywood to interview a genius rock and roll photographer named Deborah Chesher. Deborah's knockout book Everybody I Shot Is Dead (perhaps the greatest title ever) features 400 previously unreleased photos of the greatest dearly departed musicians of the 1970s: Frank Zappa, George Harrison, Waylon Jennings, Terry Kath, John Bonham, the members of Badfinger, just to name a few. During the course of the interview Deborah gave me a t-shirt with the name of the book, and I put it on.

At about 6pm tonight I returned to the Beverly Hilton to find a long line of cars. In the lobby, outside the International Ballroom, there was a big photo op. The backdrop read "Ella Awards." Before I could ask what the "Ellas" are, I saw 1950s heartthrob - and father of Debbie - Pat Boone! (I've often wondered if the Nazca Lines of Peru were ancient Incan "Love Letters in the Sand.")

I fumbled with my Blackberry so that I could get a picture, but Pat started walking away. I turned to catch up with him, when I nearly ran into ... Carol Burnett.

Every serious tanner (someone who sunbathes, not someone working with leather - though many sunbathers are quite leathery) has a specific tanning regimen. Some are so serious that they call it a tanning "regime." (That sounds so overbearing, almost dictatorial.) I took a stroll through New York Central Park's Great Lawn and investigated.