Claire and I attended the World Premiere of the new 3-D version of “Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas” at the El Capitan Theater in Hollywood on Monday night, October 16. We got to meet and chat with Tim Burton, Danny Elfman, Paul Reubens, production genius Rick Heinrichs (check out his work on “Pirates of the Carribean II” — he’s the star of that movie, sez I), director Henry Selick and, yes, even Marilyn Manson. Pretty amazing night and the movie was even more fun than usual in 3-D. I found out this evening that my panel event on Thursday, October 19, 2006 is completely sold out — both shows — and has been for more than a month. That should make for a terrific evening. Details on exactly who will be on the panel are still a bit vague but I do know one thing that’s going to happen — I’m sworn to secrecy — that the “Nightmare” fans are going to go nuts over. This movie has been in my life for thirteen years now, as odd as that seems, and it still offers me really fun and interesting experiences at least once a year. Someday, remind me to tell you how my interest in the Alamo led to my writing the making of book about “Nightmare.” Yes, all roads lead to the Alamo…

On Sunday, November 12, 2006, I’ll be appearing on a panel at the Autry National Center in Los Angeles. The panel will discuss how violence has been a preoccupation of Western films from “The Virginian” to “Unforgiven.” Why they’re starting and stopping there will be revealed on the day, I guess, but it should make for a good discussion. My fellow panelists will be John Mack Faragher, Professor of History and Director of the Howard Lamar Center, Yale University, Clyde Derrick, Kennedy/Marshall executive and former Autry media producer and my pal Paul Andrew Hutton, Professor of History, University of New Mexico. The panel lasts from 3-4:30 pm. For more information call 323-667-2000 or go to www.autrynationalcenter.org.

People frequently — although not as frequently as I’d like! — ask if they can buy my books directly from me. As a general rule, the answer is no, but I do have some extra copies of the following (all prices include postage; if you have special shipping requests, please contact me):

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Okay, I know that most people, upon receiving one of our holiday letters, dive for the “delete” button. And then proceed directly to the “spam block” button. And then consult the authorities. But I’m hoping that some troubled soul out there actually keeps the stupid things. Specifically, the 2003 entry. I fear it is lost. Imagine a world that will have to do without whatever head cheese jokes I came up with then, or that will never know what I decided to name the twins that year. It’s really too sad to comtemplate. So if you happen to have that one, please send it along to me. You will have my eternal gratitude, and little else.

As another year draws to a close, ever steepening the slope that tilts directly into the grave, most if not all of the Thompson bunch have decided to take a break from contemplating the slowly healing scars on their wrists to wish all their friends the happiest of holidays.

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So many of our dear friends (“so many” being defined here as “fewer than one”) have requested that we fill you in on our activities of the past year (or “Tweltmont” as they call it in some foreign country I recently read about) that we have decided to accede to your demands and come out peacefully, our hands over our heads. Actually we haven’t received requests so much as blackmail and threats, accompanied by dark hints of bloody violence. But either way, we’re happy to fill you in on the highlights of what we jocularly call our “lives.”

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It’s been another watershed year on McCormick Street, marked by several outbursts of bloody violence, long stretches of tedium, and an incessant weeping that seems to be coming from the pipes that criss-cross our entire house, remnants of our admittedly excessive “monkey bar” period. For those of our friends who remember how puzzled we were by finding large, buttery footprints all over the ceiling of our anteroom, month after month, you’ll be relieved to learn that the mystery has been solved – it was a neighbor.

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