Invisible Mikey: Most Evil Job Ever


by Invisible Mikey

Some of my readers urged me to write about another odd job I held once, but at the time I deferred because it was an unusual experience of real evil, the kind that swims in the dark river of sludge beneath all capitalism. I did it because at the time I wanted more income badly.  However, no one needs money badly enough to do this.  It was the desire for money that seduced me into doing it.  It was the desire to have a clean soul that got me back out.  For eighteen months, I helped make INFOMERCIALS.  (You may scream now.)

When I went to interview, I was still a “human search engine” by profession (seeOddest Jobs Ever Pt 4).  The interview was in a nice condominium which should have been a red flag, but my curiosity often wins in these situations.  The initial job was billed as “office manager”.  There wasn’t an office, and the manager was a nice old lady doing the books.  I had done simple bookkeeping, so I thought I could handle it.  How much commerce could be taking place in an apartment?  I could sense that the old lady and the man who interviewed me didn’t get along, and you would need to in such a close environment.  The man who interviewed me was gregarious, charming, enthusiastic and nicely dressed.  I didn’t see the horns and tail.  They must be removable.  (Eerie music cue goes here.)

Evil Man #1 told me an extraordinary story.  I’m now sure he has used it many times and polished it over the years.  He showed me news clippings about how he had been accosted by young robbers, and how he had talked them out of it by offering them jobs and a way to become legitimately rich.  The articles were vague about exactly what the jobs were because they were fake articles.  The incident never happened.  This was the smoothest liar I had ever met, but at the time I had no idea.  Evil #1 told me he (along with a partner) produced INFOMERCIALS, and told me straight away that they make more profit than any other kind of TV, and he asked if I would be interested in learning how from the ground up, and that the “office manager” job was really more of a personal assistant to the producers.  Would I consider fifty thousand a year to start?  Of course there would be rapid salary increases as I learned the ropes.  I said yes, trying not to give the Gomer Pyle “Goll-eee” inflection to it.  (Now you may imagine the image of a cartoon lollipop with the word SUCKER on it appearing over my head.)

When I came to work the next Monday, I met Evil Man #2, the other producer.  Unlike Evil #1, this man was pensive and nervous, but he smiled nicely and shook my hand with confidence.  Evil #2 excused himself and left, and Evil #1, who was still on the phone, motioned me to him.  He asked the caller to hold, handed me a check for 70 THOUSAND DOLLARS (!) and asked if I would mind going to pick up his new Jaguar from the dealership nearby.  He said “Don’t scratch it”, with an easy smile and went back to his phone call.  I walked to the dealership, gave them the check and drove the car back.  (Goll-eee)

Evil 2 asked if I would like to go with him to the attorney’s office and learn about contracts.  He drove a new Cadillac.  On the way, he explained that in this company Evil 1 was the “go” person and he was the “no” person, and that’s why their partnership worked.  He also complained that the last showmercial, one of the original powdered diets, was slowing down in sales after $12 MILLION DOLLARS profit on a $10k investment.  (gah-aAAh-Leee)

The lawyer was in Beverly Hills in a small private office building.  His office was furnished in chrome and dark wood and looked like a movie set from The Firm.  The lawyer’s suit looked very expensive.  He spread out the pages of the contract and we sat at the long conference table to begin work.  This show was the first one ever produced about a teeth-whitening gel you could use at home, with trays that fit over your teeth.  There were contracts for the inventors of the product, the Dentist who would be endorsing it and the fulfillment company, the ones who would manufacture, package and ship the orders.

Beginning that day, and over the next year I learned how completely you can screw people using ambiguities in a contract.  Each time the lawyer and Evil 2 came up with a new way to phrase something more impenetrably to increase the company’s likely percentage while reducing what had to be paid to the others, the two men would smile with delight.  It’s what they lived for.  All those things you have heard about “fine print” are true, and much worse than you imagine.  It’s a matter of intent.  If the contract writers have no conscience, and their moral position is that whatever profit is gained by any means according to a legally-binding contract is automatically deserved BECAUSE BOTH PARTIES AGREED TO IT, then there’s no limit to how much money can be made.  Thousands of dollars in profit from pennies of investment, plus you use the contract to (in effect) steal another’s work.  This is how the music business typically operates, and it’s what I meant when I used the term “rape me” contracts in previous articles.

Every successful showmercial falls into one of three categories based on the vulnerabilities of consumers: GREEDVANITY or HOUSEWARES.  Infomercials that are truthful can not possibly profit to the degree that ones that lie will.  To maximize profit, promise more, not less.  When you buy, you have entered a contract for purchase.  You are bound by the terms in the fine print.  Money-back guarantees can easily be written in a way to make it hard for a customer to get their money back.  For example, require that the item be returned unopened.  Hardly anyone will do that.  Or you can provide a number the customer must call to get a code for returns.  That number rings an answering machine that will put you on hold (with music) for as many hours as you would like to hold.  No, it isn’t fraud.  You agreed to call and get the code.  We didn’t agree to provide it.  We still get to advertise a money-back guarantee. (neener neener)

I worked on shows about the teeth-whitener, a line of cosmetics, an exercise device, a set of self-help CDs (from Mickey Rooney) and the product that finally made me quit – a male potency enhancer supplement.  My salary had gone up to 75 thousand a year, because people liked me and the evil producers were trading on that.  I was running interference for the bad guys.  I knew none of these products worked, but for a while I bought into the lie, that if you agree to a contract you have no right to object unless it doesn’t fulfill the terms of that contract.  The contract never guarantees a result of any kind.  Customers can’t legally object because the infomercial says one thing and the contract says another.  The only thing with any legal weight is the contract.  Just try going into court and arguing “But on TV they said…”

The male enhancer program featured Chad Everett, who really DID say “I’m not a Dr. but I played one on TV.”  It was half water, with a small amount of a tincture made from (rim shot) WILD OATS.  The rest was alcohol.  The product and the program were aimed at men aged 40-70.  Guess what happens when you give older men alcohol in a situation where they are expecting sex?  They tend to get a bit frisky.  We had no problem getting unpaid testimonials from real customers who were given the product for free.  Viagra works better, but it doesn’t cost four cents a bottle and sell for $49.95.  Of course it came with a money-back guarantee, one requiring the men to sign an affidavit that in essence was a declaration of impotence.  Few bottles came back.

I’ve never made that kind of money since, but I sleep well.


Invisible Mikey: My Trigger


by Invisible Mikey

I was reading Zeenat’s post about daily methods for reinforcing your inner upside (  The first one listed was to Carry a positive Trigger.  She was writing about having a token of something that makes you happy with you at all times.  When you get sidetracked, you can use it to get back in the game of life.  She did not realize that by saying this she reopened a beautiful memory from my early childhood.  I’ve had a positive trigger inside me since I was three!  It’s Trigger himself, the smartest horse in the movies.

Roy Rogers was a former shoe factory worker from Ohio named Leonard Slye.  He reinvented himself and became a beloved singing cowboy in movies and on TV.  In preparation for his first lead role in Under Western Skies (1938),Roy tried out several handsome horses the studio provided.  He was carried along smoothly and rapidly by a six year old palomino named Golden Cloud , but Roy was also impressed at how intelligent and responsive the horse was.  During the shoot, co-star Smiley Burnette remarked that the horse was so quick Roy ought to call him “Trigger”.  And quick he was, a fast learner and a fast runner.  The name stuck.

Trigger went from A-budget films to B-Westerns in order to work with Roy.  He had been Maid Marian’s horse in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938).  From then on he played himself, as in Robin Hood of the Pecos (1941). That horse had real star quality.  You could tell he enjoyed performing.

Most of their films included some demonstration of Trigger’s abilities.  Here’s a clip from Hands Across the Border (1944):

Roy Rogers movies and TV shows were mostly formulaic nonsense, which matters little to an audience of children.  They featured fistfights without blood, shootouts in which no one is killed, and love scenes with one kiss (maybe).  The realest part was the friendships.  Roy and Gabby Hayes, his bearded sidekick, acted like pals.  So did Roy and Dale Evans, his off-screen wife.  The revelation for me was seeing what close friends Roy and Trigger were.  I hadn’t had a pet or significant relationship with any animals yet.  Because I saw Roy and Trigger’s interaction with each other while I was a young child, I began believing people and animals could be friends.  Roy never once used a whip or spurs with Trigger.  They just communicated.

Trigger made over 80 films and 100 TV episodes with Roy.  That’s long-distance stamina by any means of reckoning.  He got one more shot at A-budget films in 1952.  Their contract was up for renewal, and the studio (Republic) didn’t want to allow the duo to move to TV, where their audience was.  Roy and Trigger galloped over to Paramount and appeared in Bob Hope’s Western spoof Son of Paleface:

Fast-forward half a century.  I get along with many kinds of animals.  Dogs, cats, deer and horses are curious about me, as I am about them.  Birds will almost always come near.  They sense I mean no harm, and I offer them food.  On foreign trips I’ve touched whales and dolphins, and watched them studying me.  I’ve had important, meaningful relationships with many animals that chose to live under my roof.  I owe it all to watching that beautiful palomino and the cowboy he carried.

Trigger was a performer on-camera and in personal appearances for twenty years, longer than many human celebrities.  When he died in 1965, Roy had the body preserved in the iconic pose, rearing up on his hind legs.  For 45 years he was a museum exhibit under glass, the King Tut of horses.  The mummy sold at auction for $266,500 last year.


EDITED BY LB TO ADD: Speaking of the Roy Rogers Museum, where Trigger used to do his mummified thing, many years ago my wife and I took our Youngest Daughter to see Roy’s goodies. He’d been a guest star on a show I produced called THE FALL GUY and was quite the host. But when the YD saw all the stuffed animals (not only Trigger but also Roy’s dog, Bullet, Dale’s horse, Buttermilk, and a host of big game animals shot on various Rogers’ family African safaris), she burst into tears and fled from the building. Sorry, Roy. Sorry, Mikey. Really sorry, Trigger.

Invisible Mikey: Remembrance of Television Past

And the son of a @#%$ remembers it so well:


Technical Difficulties
by Invisible Mikey

The world’s most famous television test pattern was introduced by RCA in 1939 and was still in use until the 1970s. American TV stations used to broadcast it not only when scheduled programming ceased for the day, but any time unexpected technical difficulties caused a delay.  It’s been ten days since I’ve made my last confession.  I’ve been fully intending to do so, but I’ve had obstacles interrupting the broadcast for which I am heartily sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me.

I could not get proper cell phone coverage at home or work with our previous provider.  I got a new provider and I now have coverage.  I also have this new phone with new functions and a 50-page manual that I haven’t had time to do more than speed-read through in desperation.  Our wonderful new house (which I named Casa DeLuxe in previous posts) would appear to have undergone an explosion to the casual observer.  It’s full of boxes that are partially unpacked, with belongings everywhere.  I would love to show you as well as write about it, but I can’t figure out how to get the dozens of pictures out of my new complicated phone and into the computer.  I guess I’ll be adding a “photos/captions only” post in a few days when I have solved this problem.

We got a new land-line and ISP at home, but that took hours worth of phone calls it shouldn’t have because it was a hard concept for the home phone/internet provider to understand that it would require scheduling the two different types of (subcontracted) technicians the same day in order to guarantee the service would work.  They kept saying they could schedule them days apart and it would all link up.  I’ve been through that many times before.  It often doesn’t work, and then untangling whose fault it is takes days or weeks to figure out and correct.  I don’t know what was so hard about “same day, same time” for them, but I had to go through levels of the beehive and beg the queen’s direct under-drones.  I got the two techs.  It worked, sort of.

The phone rang, however it kept intercepting all our home phone calls to re-route them to an included voicemail service we had not asked for, and that we couldn’t access.  Our callers heard a recording saying, “This voicemail box has not yet been set up.”  Technical support replied that the voicemail service “came free” because we had bundled home phone and internet service, but that we had to go through the initiation process of Harry Potter’s sorting hat, perform twelve “labors” and answer a survey before it would work.  “It burns!  It burns!  Get it off!” I cried.  The voicemail service is no more.  We get to hear our own phone calls instead of the recording secretary hearing them first.

We’ve been without a TV service for six weeks.  Despite not suffering any real ill effects, we actually want a TV service, and we’ll, like, PAY for it and everything.  First I had to endure wave after wave of sales people pushing a programming service I did not want with channels I did not want at a price I did not want with outdated technology I DEFINITELY did not want.  That’s because they’ve made “a deal” with the phone provider to sell that service bundled to home phone/internet customers.  Now every time I talk to anyone from the phone company they make another pitch for DIRECT TV.  I’ve been around the block.  If “everybody says” it’s the best, except for customers, it isn’t the best even if it IS the biggest.  Plus, I am determined to stop paying for things I won’t use.  It’s called VOLUNTARY SIMPLICITY.  The lack of voluntary simplicity is a chief reason my past life was so full of clutter.  I finally found a guy who works out of his house.  He will set me up with a satellite and (mostly) just the channels I want.  His name’s Dan.  I met his wife.  THAT’S how I like to do business.  Screw you, oh super-fabulous DIRECT TV.

I passed my final test to become a nurse delegate/medication aide.  Later this week I begin training on the many-drawered med cart, the pharmacy on wheels that makes life more manageable for 30 people with nine kinds of dementia.  Without enough medication, dementia produces memorable quotes.

“How does this thing work?” (The thing being his hand.)

“Which side do I reach over to get to the ocean?” (Which side of the chair.)

“No one can help me now.” (Said under severe pain.)

“This is SUPER…super…superfluous.” (She liked the pudding.)

“I don’t want anything at all.  Just you.”

Dementia has begun to seem like old-time black & white TV static to me.  It’s an interruption to the brain’s regularly scheduled programming.  Is there a test-pattern running in their heads?

I’m more involved than ever at the Dementia Care facility.  My co-workers are heroes.  They work double shifts for low pay, nursing their own injuries and enormous stress.  This is the struggle against suffering, undertaken at an essential, visceral level.  Several residents have had falls or near-falls as their conditions worsen.  We keep them as safe as we can, but you can’t predict when a person who used to be able to walk will suddenly drop to the carpet or the grass, never to walk again without assistance.  Two of our residents have died in the ten weeks I’ve worked at the care home.  I knew both intimately.  We’re in the trenches.


Invisible Mikey: Yet Another Reason


…to remain invisible.

I ran into this by accident when looking for something else.  I had completely forgotten it.  Well, it was 25 years ago.  This was my first “union” job in Hollywood, after I had earned the SAG card.  I got paid a few hundred dollars to shout “YAY!” in the background of the commercial.  I’m turned away from camera.  The bar is a set.  The lead actor, Paul Hogan (Crocodile Dundee), was a nice-looking but only average-sized man.  Therefore, to make him look big and macho, the bar set and everything in it is just a little bit smaller than the real thing.  I remembered the casting call.  They chose a variety of “looks”, with only one requirement.  You couldn’t be any taller than 5’7”.  The guy on the stool next to Paul talking to him is Leslie Jordan.  He’s just under 5 feet tall.  It’s a good thing I never filmed anything embarrassing, aside from the fact that much of it was bad TV.  This stuff sticks around forever!

Originally published on Invisible Mikey’s Blog

EDITED TO ADD: Thanks, Mikey!

Invisible Mikey: Lessons From TV


Mass media impacts lives, and each generation adopts current technology for the sharing of information, communication and entertainment. Five years ago, during my last round of college, I realized how differently my younger colleagues in class were experiencing media than I had. I use the Internet, but I’m a different animal. I was part of the first television generation. During my formative years, it was only available in black and white, and there were no remote controls.

Sometimes I read opinions written by columnists and bloggers who state unequivocally that television can have no positive influence, especially on children who watch. I don’t care what the studies say. I am living proof that TV could influence in meaningful, positive ways. You may prefer to believe I was just lucky, but I learned many important things from watching TV. Here are three:


The Joke’s On You. Learn to Enjoy It.

When I was a boy in Iowa, Duane Ellett and his dog puppet, Floppy, hosted one local show. Duane and Floppy showed cartoons and performed before a live audience of children. Throughout the show, the kids were invited to come up and tell jokes to them. Predictably pleasant, right? Something unexpected and wonderful happened. The kids would tell the SAME EXACT JOKES over and over. Floppy would laugh and toss his ears around every time, while Duane (the straight man) would look more and more miserable. Floppy would stop and look back at Duane like “Why aren’t you laughing, man? This is great!” Duane would be rolling his eyes and growing visibly older by the second. This is the yin-yang of comedy, and in many ways, of life itself. Sometimes you are Floppy. Sometimes you are Duane. And life will keep playing the same jokes on you. Because I had watched The Floppy Show, I understood Waiting for Godot when I read it many years later.


Big and Small are Defined by Context.

Half my life has been lived in big cities and half in small towns. Small towns are more entertaining. That’s because every small town pretends that it’s a big, important place. There’s a recent movie called Cedar Rapids, a fish-out-of-water comedy about a man from a very small town trying to adjust to opportunities in the “big city” of the title. The in-joke is that Cedar Rapids isn’t big. It’s just bigger than where he was from. I lived in Cedar Rapids for years and found it hilarious that Cedar Rapidians took their town so seriously. I knew they weren’t all that. After all, I was from (ahem) Des Moines!


By the time I moved to Cedar Rapids at age 14, I had been fully prepared for small town pretense by watching TV. I was a fan of The Andy Griffith Show, Petticoat Junction and Green Acres – shows that exploited the inflated pride people have about their small towns for comedic effect, but that also portrayed the virtues of living more simply. Now, in the autumn of my years, I love Last of the Summer Wine, the world’s longest-running situation comedy. It was a British show about pensioners with attitude, and it echoed the themes of those American shows that came before.


Everyone is Still a Child.

I was a very angry teenager. The Vietnam War was going on, college students were being gassed and beaten at peaceful demonstrations, my parents were heading for divorce and life was grim in general. My inner child was dying from neglect. An honest embrace emerged from TV in the afternoons, in the form of a show for very young children that I needed as much as they did. Fred Rogers understood that children of all ages need reassurance in uneasy times. He showed us an improved world in miniature, one we could live in if we treated each other better. It was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

The show was on Public Television. Back then, just like now, there were those in government who wanted to cut funding for non-commercial TV, because they thought it was “too liberal”. Mister Rogers didn’t believe in war. He suggested more money should be spent on the education of children, including through television, instead of spending it on weapons. I know this is a long clip, but it’s an example of how powerful authentic gentleness can be. In this excerpt, you can see Mister Rogers melt the hard heart of a real U.S. Senator, just by talking to the child inside him. I can’t watch this without crying.

Mister Rogers died in 2003, a month before the U.S. invaded Iraq. His show began during one war based on lies. His life ended as another war based on lies began. I remember telling Mary at the time that I felt as if the world wasn’t good enough to have someone as kind as Fred Rogers living in it. I’m sorry he’s gone, but I’m glad his TV show helped me to change. I’m not an angry adult.

TVWriter™ gives big thanks to Invisible Mikey’s Very Visible Blog

Invisible Mikey: Head Full of Strange

… and happy to share.

I saw King Kong (1933) as a young child – on TV

Thanks to a couple of comments on the last post, I’ve been thinking about some of the truly bizarre television shows that knock around in my memory.  This is no attempt to be comprehensive.  It’s just some links to oddities I watched at one time or other.


Before I started school, I had no social context for TV content.  I liked comedy, old movies, weird cartoons and what was then called “educational television”.  The cartoons were usually ones made decades earlier, intended for projection before movies.  As for other shows, I preferred ones with in-jokes, even if I didn’t understand them.


My taste for the absurd cross-pollinated back to TV viewing once I began going to movies on my own.  My parents finally bought a color set around 1965.


TV went kind of bipolar in this decade.  Beautiful and unusual things were happening in American culture, but television kept broadcasting retro-styled versions of what was occurring in the real world.

The 1980s and Beyond :

I spent a lot more time working than watching from this point on.  I was generally only able to see things that showed late at night, or what I taped and purchased for later viewing.

 —and that’s enough out of me (and YouTube).  Gotta go to work.

But, I have to wonder about YOUR kids.  They are growing up already having seen things like THIS:

TVWriter™ sends big thanks to Invisible Mikey’s Very Visible Blog

Invisible Mikey: The Village Martinet

The On-Camera Martin Clunes

The On-Camera Martin Clunes

British TV shows are better than American ones.  I’m sorry, there’s no other position to take. They don’t try to crank out 26 episodes a season, like we do here.  When you do that, you are guaranteeing that at least 10 of the episodes will be “meh”, even if all the others are good.  It takes a lot of work to make a superior hour of filmed television.  Aside from the necessity of great scripts, the days are very long when in production, at least 12 hours, often longer.  It’s too much of a grind to survive and still end up with a jewel at the end.  The Brits have it figured out.  Make 6-8 episodes/season, so they’ll all be good.  Not only that, but it leaves the actors free to have a real life, or perform in plays or even to be in a different series at the same time if they wish.  It’s civilized.

I’m totally hooked on another series about city folk moving to the country.  It’s an ITV production called Doc Martin that’s shown here in Port Townsend but not where I used to live.  You can, however, see three season’s worth of episodes (21 shows) in full 420p, 16×9 aspect ratio at Because I loved it from the moment I saw it, I went back to see it from the beginning.  It fits what I wrote about in the previous article on Green Acres.  The city guy is the fish out of water, in this case in the fictional coastal Cornish village of Portwenn.

The show is filmed in beautiful Port Isaac, and is about a once-successful surgeon from London who becomes a GP in a sleepy fishing village because he suddenly can’t stand the sight of blood.  The Dr’s name is Martin Ellingham (Ellingham is an anagram of the last name of show creator Dominic Minghella), and the locals refuse to call him anything other than “Doc Martin”, which he finds disrespectful.  The doc is a surly curmudgeon, has no bedside manner whatsoever, and is constantly in conflict with the villagers, except for his Auntie Joan (Waiting for God’s Stephanie Cole), a long-time resident.  This is a dance of dominance between the doc and the locals, so in an inspired choice the show uses catchy tango music for its theme and underscore.

It’s a well-understood axiom that actors who can play comedy can play anything.  Dramatic actors are often unable to do comedy.  England’s most famous 19th Century dramatic actor Edmund Kean reportedly said on his deathbed, “Dying is easy…comedy is hard.”  Martin Clunes, who plays Doc Martin, is classically trained but was best known previously for the comedy series Men Behaving Badly.  Mr. Clunes is a warm, caring animal-lover in person, so like Hugh Laurie on House (another sensitive, cheerful man playing a grumpy genius), Clunes is brilliant playing against type.

Now that Clunes’ hairline is receding, he looks a lot like Elmer Fudd, which also makes his bad-tempered bewilderment funny to watch.  The entire village gets to playBugs Bunny and confound him.  As in Green Acres, the locals are in their own alternate universe.  The town cop is either clinically depressed or agoraphobic (different actors and characters).  The park ranger needs anti-psychotic meds.  The doc’s receptionists make tea and biscuits for patients, who often have no complaint but still come to the surgery to eat, drink and socialize.

The village school Headmistress, Louisa (Caroline Catz) is the doc’s love interest.  She consulted on the committee for his hire, lobbying against it because of his coldness.  He immediately spots an undiagnosed eye problem of hers.  That’s called “meeting cute”.  It’s a standard feature of comedy writing.  Louisa is as warm and sociable as Martin is aloof and graceless, but they are exactly matched in intellect and compassion.  It’s so satisfying to watch the obstacles they must overcome to get together.  After four seasons, they are still on-again, off-again, despite viewers knowing that their romance is destined and inescapable.  A few days ago, the renewal of the show for a fifth series was confirmed by Clunes, who also performs in a series called Reggie Perrin.

Now that I’ve come from the big city to a little village looking for a position in health care, you can see why I would identify strongly with this show right now.  My new banker is advising me who to talk to about getting in at a local hospital because, like in Portwenn, if the locals say you’re all right, you get to see patients.  Wish me luck!

The Off-Camera Martin Clunes

 This post originally appeared in one of our all-time favorite blogs.