Recomended reading: Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen deconstructs Jean Shepherd, the storyteller behind the beloved holiday classic “A Christmas Story.”

My youngest’s cold. He couldn’t even bother to wrap it.

So that’s partly what I’ve been up to the last few days.

Earlier, I related some big changes that have come to Archie’s old crowd. (Among them: Moose has both a learning disability and anger-management problems.) Now the old gang gets to learn about mortality, with the demise of a character whose age at time of death I estimate at 135. (So I can’t feel too sad about it.)

Simple plain wisdom from the redoubtable Fred Willard. Plan your future behavior accordingly.

What’s the ideal gift for that special Star Trek fan on your Christmas list? How about one-of-a-kind hatbox dioramas of Kirk and Spock celebrating the most wonderful time of the lightyear?

While I’m waiting for the hatboxes featuring Mr. Fantastic and Samuel Beckett, I’m betting my friend Larry would like to have these.

Here’s how you can get them.

(And p.s. to Larry and other nitpicky Trek fans:   I know “original” Trek didn’t have the holodeck. So leave me alone.)

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much coverage the dearly departed Don Van Vliet has been getting.

Today’s LA Times had a large obit smack on the front page of the Calendar section. Here it is.  I especially appreciated the degree to which Richard Cromelin noted the Captain’s influence (although I couldn’t help noting that the band Talking Heads is referred to as “The Talking Heads” — despite their having once released an album entitled “The Name of This Band is Talking Heads”).

Early this evening on NPR I heard a rather lengthy coverage of Captain Beefheart’s career, including a bit of audio from one of his last interviews, conducted  in the early 1990’s. In that interview at least, Van Vliet, who suffered from multiple sclerosis, sounded greatly weakened, and barely able to speak intelligibly. That, in addition to his frustrations with other performers and the general state of his musical career, made it easier to understand why he quit music for a highly successful career as a painter. Still, it was an odd experience hearing what I’d always considered a rather obscure and nigh “unlistenable” favorite act of mine profiled so lovingly on NPR.

Finally, I caught Henry Rollins’ show on KCRW. Although the online setlist doesn’t mention Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band, Rollins spoke passionately about the impact of their music, and played three tracks — one from the band’s first album, “Safe as Milk,” one from the masterpiece, “Trout Mask Replica,” and one from “Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)” — spanning their career. All three were exciting and showed the impressive range of their inventiveness. Rollins said that all the Captain Beefheart albums are worth listening to (I agree), even though some are out of print. (Including the debut, “Safe as Milk.”) He said that often when an artist as significant as Beefheart does, someone will do a reissue or a compilation collection, and he’s hopeful for that. But then, more importantly, he said that he’s got ten 90-minute tapes of unreleased Captain Beefheart music and that he’s going to start digitizing it and throwing on the air. Some of us have been waiting almost 30 years for new Captain Beefheart music. Stay tuned.

It was with great sadness that I learned a minute ago of the death of Don Van Vliet, a.k.a. Captain Beefheart. The music the Captain made with his Magic Band was unlike anything before it, or after it: an odd mix of jazz, R&B, zydeco, avant garage rock ‘n’ roll, and everything in between, all of it wonderful when mixed together.

Captain Beefheart’s last album, “Ice Cream for Crow,” was released almost 20 years ago, and no more were planned. Disgruntled at low sales and a sense that his sound had been ripped off by punks without his getting any acknowledgement (check out “Ashtray Heart” and draw your own conclusion, although it should be said that The White Stripes did later cover this song), he retired from music, focusing instead on his burgeoning visual art career. I didn’t expect any more music, but I liked knowing that he was around. And now I’m hoping that the Magic Band will resurface for a tribute concert.

Although I went on to delight in such albums as “Trout Mask Replica” and “Doc at the Radar Station,” it was “Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)” that was the LP that introduced me to the Captain, and it remains close to my heart. Here are two representative tracks that highlight both the Magic Band’s fearsome musicianship and Captain Beefheart’s astonishing vocal range. The cover painting is by Beefheart.

The new year is around the corner. If you don’t like the year that’s ending, I have some advice:  Don’t repeat it next year.

Earlier this year, one of my friends was given a rare opportunity:  a one-year fellowship on the east coast where she could pursue her writing with no expenses and with a good strong stipend. This would mean, however, leaving all her friends on the west coast, and, more dramatically, her sinecure position at a major university, where they give you all those things that so many people are wishing they had right now:  a steady job with retirement benefits and a 401k and health and medical and flexible hours and many other perks. She would have to leave that and roll the dice for this one-year gig. I told her to do it. I couldn’t imagine a reason not to. She doesn’t have any dependents. And I’m confident that some other opportunity will arise for her by the end of this fellowship — and if it doesn’t, she’ll have to go make one of some kind.

But here’s the even better story.

A few years ago the business of one of my very best friends was failing. This business had been up to then the entirety of his professional career, and it was important work, the sort that all of us need to have done at some point or another, and he was very very good at it. But his local market had shifted dramatically and business had shrunk for years, and now he was facing real trouble. During one soul-searching phone call, I could hear the panic and upset in his voice. I told him something like this:  “You know, you can do anything you want to. You don’t have to run this business any more. What do you have to be afraid of? You’re smart, and you’re healthy, and people like you. You’ve got half your life ahead of you. Go do something else. Go do something you want to. Your life can be anything you want it to be.” I know we hear this sort of thing all the time, but it’s like the muzak in the background:  We don’t really listen to it. But unbelievably, thankfully, my friend actually heard this and now — and here’s the beautiful thing — now he’s in the business of caring for people and saving their lives. Earlier tonight here’s what he emailed me (I’ve edited out a little personal information):

Lee:

I’m going to South Africa in March.

Going with [other medical professionals] from [big-name university].

Visiting HIV wards out in the countryside, big hospitals in Johannesburg.
Helping nurses there, observing.
Visiting the prison where Mandela was held, on Robben Island.

I just found out, and had to tell someone.

If you think this couldn’t have been you, you’re wrong. The shackles on us are placed there by ourselves; every day should be a willful decision to lead the life you’re leading. For myself, I’m having incredible fun lately, really. My new plays are humming along (I’m always writing more than one), my business is doing very well and I’m having a blast working on what we’re working on, I’m grateful for my wife and my family and my friends and my business partner and the people I work with. Life is good. It may seem unkind to say that when so many people are struggling through very difficult economic times right now. But I think it would be crueler to not hold out the hope that for many of the people we know, they could make a change if they wanted to. If your 2010 wasn’t what you wanted, perhaps now is the time to ask yourself how to make the most of 2011.

In the meantime, I’m very proud to know the man going to South Africa to help the sick and the dying, and to call him my friend.

There is perhaps nothing so bad and so dangerous in life as fear — Jawaharlal Nehru

You’ve probably been wondering where you can play nog pong this holiday season.

Here’s where.

Here’s the latest nonsense fear cooked up by someone somewhere to keep us in a state of purposeless panic:  Supposedly, kids are now snorting nutmeg.

This is only the latest unfounded threat trundling our way. My second-favorite remains that your ringing cellphone might electrocute you.  The title of favorite false alarm goes to those “killer bees” that have been winging their way to us since the 1970’s. Those are some very slow bees.

Here’s the thing that nobody will ever email you, that you won’t see in the news — and I say this will full awareness of the recent financial struggles many people have faced — for the vast majority of people on the planet, things have never been better. Bubonic plague is just about gone; few of us have landed lieges forcing us to scrape in the muck all day; mortality during childbirth is at an all-time low; five out of six of us can get a drink of water easily; and more people have more regular access to education and information than ever before in history.

I’ll take all of that, and a lot more I could list, over misguided fears that somewhere some bored adolescent may have snorted nutmeg. And y’know what? If he did, he deserves whatever nasty little high he got. Because I can’t even stand the taste of nutmeg. I can only imagine how thrilling it is stuffed into your head.