I USED TO THINK it was fluoride, but maybe the ...

THINK it was fluoride, but maybe the phenomenon of MMMBoppin' explains the accelerated maturity of today's young girls. This theory is strongly suggested by the in-store appearance of the newly mature Hanson at the Times Square Virgin Megastore, which is hosting a parade of barely pubescent R. Crumb covergirls along the length of the store. The band's femme fanbase has grown into some serious MAMBoppin', only made more distracting by the many young girls complaining that Virgin won't let them use the restroom. Some pervert's going to be bootlegging the video surveillance of that squirming line-up.

I don't mind feeling like a dirty old man either, since I'm only killing time before heading to the Supper Club for the big press conference for the JVC Jazz Festival—or, as I know it, that annual event where I get to be the youngest hackety-hack in the room. It's also nice to be someplace where wearing a shirt with a collar doesn't make you a virtual Beau Brummell. Sadly, I still look ancient next to Richard Barone, whose nametag actually rates him as "Mr. Richard Barone"—most likely an honorific given to anyone under the age of 60 who knows the names of Peggy Lee's arrangers.

That list actually kind of includes Barone himself, since he's still touring around with variations of his elaborate all-star Lee tribute. Richard's looking distressingly young, too, thanks to finally growing out that Eurotrash haircut he's been sporting for way too long. "I had a full beard just this morning," he claims. "It's from being in the studio. I kind of turn into George Lucas in there."

Barone also informs me that, in addition to being major pimps, those Hanson kids are also "really good guys" who hang out at the Loser's Lounge shows. I'm not sure if that's the term I'd use for young millionaires who must really bum out that gang of overaged and underemployed pop fetishists.

Barone can be charitable, though, since he's got a fine new career compilation out in Germany, and a new album he's been recording for what seems like the past decade with Tony Visconti. "You know how it is," Barone explains. "We record three songs, he goes and makes an album with Bowie; we record three songs, he goes and makes an album with Bowie…"

It's always nice to see Richard, but I eventually have to leave so I can feel younger by standing by people who actually look their age. In fact, I continue this clever plan outside the Supper Club by hooking up for a trip to the movies with Johnny Legend. This veteran L.A. scenester's flowing gray beard has been the only constant in his career as a film archivist/rockabilly singer/character actor/wrestling manager/pornographer. It's a career that's left Johnny knowing just about everybody, so it's sporting of him to still hang out with me—especially since I'm the genius who insisted that Johnny concentrate on a recent DVD reissue of his Weird Cartoons collections, since they'd be such a success in the burgeoning kiddie market.

My marketing savvy has resulted in Wal-Mart's recent decision to ship back their entire Weird Cartoons inventory after complaints over content. "I told them it would ship platinum both ways," Legend says, "but they'd already sold about 5000 copies, so everybody's happy."

The original plan is for Legend and myself to attend a screening of that lawyers-in-love movie starring Pierce Brosnan and directed by that guy who used to be in a tv series with Rita Tushingham. Then we change our minds once we figure out that neither of us has seen Kill Bill, Vol. 2. Johnny's just finished explaining to potential business partners that he's been called the King of DVD Commentary.

"I usually get better reviews than the movies," he notes, and it's not bragging if it's true. Seeing Kill Bill with Johnny is the second-best thing to seeing it with Tarantino. Probably better, since Tarantino would probably talk during the movie.

Instead, Johnny waits until we're outside to start working through his personal reminiscences of the film's entire cast—which is perfectly fine with me, since Larry Bishop actually appears in a cameo. I've never thought to ask Johnny about the amazing Son of Joey—who, in his own right, was one of the great B-movie stars of all time, including a role in 1975's brilliant-and-underseen biker film How Come Nobody's on Our Side? (Write to Channel 55 and tell them to dig their copy out of the vaults.)

"Yeah, it was great to see Larry," says Johnny. "The first night I remember being around him was at the premiere for Chrome and Hot Leather at the old Academy on Melrose. It was a special screening that AIP was doing, so I was there with all the head honchos. Afterwards, everyone went to Figaro's, this early yuppie place, and I remember playing pinball with Larry. He was one of those fixtures on the Strip back in the later part of the 60s. He always seemed to be wearing one of those mod British Dutchboy caps—even when he didn't have one on.

"But about 25 years went by before I saw him again, and he'd disappeared and wasn't doing anything, and then he suddenly came back in the mid-90s writing and directing Mad Dog Time, which was a pretty impressive little gangster film. I was playing the Whiskey and I was hanging around outside with Mario—who's the other guy who runs the Whiskey—and who's this human time capsule; you always end up gossiping with him about people like the Doors or Iron Butterfly. And then Larry Bishop comes walking by, and he's looking pretty much exactly the same. I said, 'Hey, Larry, remember the guy who bought a ticket to see Mad Dog Time? That was me.'"

I remember Mad Dog Time, too, mainly because Bishop's management decided that they were handling the next Tarantino in the months before the film was released, and their client couldn't be bothered with giving an interview to the lowly New York Press. That's hardly Larry's fault, though, and he's certainly earned that effortlessly cool cameo—which, incidentally, is the first thing he's done since 1996.

Then I bring up How Come Nobody's on Our Side? which leads to Penny Marshall's film debut in The Savage Seven, which—along with How Come Nobody's on Our Side?—likely has a connection with Larry Bishop's turn as a love interest in an episode of Laverne & Shirley. This brings us to the topic of Johnny's days hanging out with former Happy Days director and Dick Van Dyke neighbor Jerry Paris.

Did I mention that Johnny missed all the early Vol. 2 screenings because he was busy with his daughter's bat mitzvah? As for myself, I was too busy with my upcoming move to stately Taylor Manor. Honestly, that's pretty good for two guys whose rightful destiny was to die alone in their mothers' basements.