Why I Was Away

Well, I'm back. As always after a brief hiatus, I feel the need to explain my absence. No, I haven't "sold out" by turning "pro" or getting married, like some bloggers. But the honeymoon is over. What honeymoon, you ask? The one between Lomblog and the emerging pro-democracy movements of the Middle East.

Let me explain. Shortly after my last post, I headed for Israel with a friend I met at Carrie Fisher's Oscar party - and honestly, I'm just as lucky to have survived that! This guy happened to be an old hand in the LA comedy scene, who had closely followed my work on international issues. After a couple of Mai Tais, the two of us got to talking - seriously - about comedy, as well as the remarkable "winds of change" then sweeping the Mideast landscape. It was only a matter of time before we stumbled upon an idea that coupled both our interests: an all-Islamic improvisational comedy theater, built right in the heart of the Gaza Strip. Or as we came to call it, The Second Settlement. Not one to waste time or frequent-flyer miles, I immediately booked us a flight at LAX.

Those first few days were easily the best part of the trip. In Palestine, we found some major talent: guys like Jimmy Mustafa, "man of a thousand militant voices"; and Khalid Carrell, whose impersonation of Simon Cowell at the Wailing Wall was literally dynamite. But the cast was not yet complete. So we decided to make a brief stop in Beirut, Lebanon which friends informed us was bursting with comedic talent.

Well, the place was bursting alright - with demonstrators. Angry, chanting, utterly humorless demonstrators. It was like the 1960s all over again, without the music, "good vibes" and charmingly scruffy nakedness. We couldn't have lunch in any of the outdoor cafes without some bellicose delinquent screaming slogans at us. Finally, I gently inquired to what was - unhappily for me - an English-speaking dissident: "What's with these protests? I know President Assad is a jerk and all, but you people are carrying on like someone died!" Very, very poor choice of words, especially while standing in a place called Martyr's Square. If only I'd been briefed on the situation beforehand. In any case, I was knocked out cold.

A photographer captured the scene just seconds after my assault:



I did not regain consciousness for another 28 days. It wasn't a really deep coma but I probably caught more z's than an Kenneth Branagh/Emma Thompson film festival. Eventually, I was hooked to a feeding tube. It was an act of compassion that would trigger a nationwide firestorm.

It started when the Lebanese, not wishing to antagonize the US at a particularly sensitive time, issued this photo to prove I was still alive and well:




A backlash quickly followed. In a Muslim culture far more accepting of death than many Westerners', there was outrage that I was being kept alive through artificial means. The anger was compounded by the incredible cost of both the feeding tube and around-the-clock security required for my protection. Within days of the photo's release, crowds began to form outside the hospital. Just under my window they began a loud chant: "Let the American die!" That's when I came to.

Now here I am, with a lot of catching up to do. In my month away from America and Lomblog, I received over a dozen e-mails and letters of concern from friends, family and collection agencies. I also learned that this "friend" and erstwhile business partner had moved into my apartment, supposedly in accordance with requests in my "living will". That will have to be worked out in court.

Until then, I will push for a nationwide "LF's law". Never again should an American's life and livelihood be threatened by Arab "reformers" and their selfish demands for political freedom.

Vengeance will be mine!