Every Time I See Peter Falk In

Younger Kids, They Understand That Things Aren't So Perfect With Their Father Or With Their Mother.

Jerry Lewis Played On The Very First Season Of Mad About You, And He Played Basically Himself, But He Was Called Some Other Name. He Said He's Never Done It; He'd Never Done A Half-hour Of [sitcom] Television. This Was 1992 Or '93. And I Said, "well How Is That?" And He Goes, "nobody Ever Asked Me." It's Like The Pretty Girl At The Dance; Everybody's Too Afraid To Ask.

It Was Trying To Make My Tennis Game Look Mildly Respectable, Which I Found You Don't Even Really Need To Practice If You Have A Really Good Editor. They Can Edit It And You're Like, "hey, It Looks Like I'm Playing Really Well." That Was The Fun Part, But It Was Like Going To Summer Camp.

Nothing Would Make Me Happier If Peter Falk Would Finally Win His Oscar For This. Not Just As The Writer But As A Fan And A Friend. It Would Be So Great

Just Because A Baby Cries, I Discovered, Doesn't Mean There's Always Something Wrong. Sometimes Babies Wake Up For No Real Reason. They Just Want To Check If They're Doing It Right. "this Is Sleeping, Right?" "exactly." "i Just Lie Here?" "that's Right." "okay." Then Back To Sleep They Go.