Latest Family Life column details my nightmares in babyproofing and the billion-dollar “mommy market.”
This week’s column wonders why being a dad today so often means being an IT guy.
The second installment of my new Reuters column involves a celebrity pediatrician and my wife’s boobs. Response has been highly enjoyable, ranging from the dad who took the opportunity to rave about how he can bring his wife to orgasm through nursing to the New Zealand feminist blogger who can’t believe we didn’t get more worked up about our our groovy pediatrician.
Forget Christmakkah and Festivus. Our interfaith holiday involves a magical rooster who fills the children’s pants with presents.
This column for the L.A. Times’ Calendar section began with an assignment to write about “what I wish I knew about dating when I was single.” I dug deep into my own humiliating record of romance and found a curious parallel with an unhealthy obsession of the moment: the Australian self-help DVD “The Secret.”
Investigative profile of pop genius Mutt Lange, a press-shy knob-twiddler behind chart-toppers as diverse as AC/DC, Tina Turner, the Backstreet Boys and Shania Twain. Good training for my run-in a few years later with another evasive celebrity, Mel Gibson.
Neal Pollack is a fellow Angeleno with a distaste for Barney and an obsessive desire for his kids to appreciate good rock and roll. Unsurprisingly, I liked his book a lot.
A reported essay for Sunday Arts & Leisure on how big summer Hollywood movies are now created and marketed to both adults and children. These movies constitute a new kid-adult hybrid that operates on multiple levels, weaving adult themes into kid movies and making the yearning for childhood an explicit theme of adult-targeted films.
Written in advance of publication of Rejuvenile (and originally comissioned by GQ magazine), this participatory feature was a ton of fun to report; what if, I wondered, I took a break from my desk-bound theorizing and actually went out and competed against the most dedicated adult players of kidgames like kickball, rock paper scissors, tag, minigolf and a “watergun assassination tournament.”
My pal the righteous Jewess Jill Soloway asked me to write and perform a wee monologue for a special event at Temple Israel of Hollywood, where my kids go to school. It was terrifying and fun to get up and lay out a little Torah interpretation, shaggutz-style…
My grandmother Betty Lane was a teacher, artist and inspiring tho crotchety character who lived for most of her life in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I wrote this short essay for a 1997 retrospective of her work hosted by the Cape Cod Museum of Fine Arts.
The Arianna Huffington profiled here in 1994 bears little resemblance to the progressive doyenne she’s become. I’m just sorry I didn’t question her a little more aggressively about her billionaire husband, who in short order lost his Senate bid, publicly revealed his homosexuality and split with his remarkable wife.
Feature for the Sunday Style section of the NY Times about “rejuveniles,” adults dedicated to indulging their inner child. From adult readers of Harry Potter to hipsters in Converse sneakers and Sesame Street T-shirts, a whole new breed of grown up is redefining maturity.
Feature for New York Times Magazine about Mel Gibson and his connection to an ultraconservative Catholic splinter group.
Is this a participatory feature or an exercise in masochism? Both, it turns out. For one week, I followed the advice of 12 of LA’s growing legion of “lifestyle experts ”—including a life coach, a spiritual advisor, a physical trainer and a personal brander. Ended up a little more confident, a lot more self conscious and very, very tired.