Yesterday, Rob and his collaborator finished their new musical, Vanishing Point. After a frenzy of printing and copying and FedExing, it was on its way. Vanishing Point will be produced by theaters in Minneapolis and Los Angeles this summer, and yesterday, I had psychic revelations that it would be performed in New York and London within the next year. There is no doubt in my mind.

For my part in the printing, copying, and FedExing (I also handwrote 188 page numbers!), Rob has promised that I will get my photograph on the cover of the program, 75 percent of all proceeds, and certain personal favors that I will not disclose here. Since London will soon enter into the mix, I will also investigate the possiblity of knighthood. I am certain he will agree. This commitment, of course, from someone who fully anticipates a future of wandering the streets of New York with a colander on his head and a tattered musical score clutched to his chest.

Ah, artists. I sure can pick 'em.

On the topic of credits, however, I must reveal that, after years of his arduous work as the undisputed driving force behind this play, it was surprising to find that, on the title page, Rob listed his own name last.

"The order isn't important to me," he said when I complained this made it seem as if he did the least work, when in fact the opposite is true. "I know what work I did, and that's what counts."

Perhaps so, but now you know, too.