This is too bad. In 1972 I was invited to an opening night afterparty for a movie called Frogs. Georgie McCowan was the director and he was a genius. The movie was about some people trapped on an amphibian infested ilsand in the pacific. So I there and I start talking to Cybill Shepard about how her house was used to film a lot of scenes in the Godfather, and she's going to set up a lunch for me with Coppola so that I could pitch him a screenpaly that I had been working on. She's into it and grabs this woman walkig by and it's Gilda, who also thinks it will be huge. Gilda steers us to the bar and introduced me to Jerome (or Jerry, as I called him) - you know him as Gene Wilder. Jerry has had a few drinks and has a wager going with McCowan that you can't actually get high by licking a frog, and he talks Cybill into trying it. So Cybill, Jerry, Gilda, and I are all out in Georgie's back yard, trying to catch frogs out of his pool and screaming at him that he needs to get a damn pool boy because it was disguisting. Gilda finally caught a frog and she and Cybill both licked it. Next thing you know they are making out on the bar while Georgie is scrambling for an 8mm camera. Cybill looks up, sees Georgie filmoing and me watching and screams at us to get the fuck out. The next day I tried to play it off but she was in rehab for months and didn't even remember meeting me, so the coppola meeting didn't happen. Too bad....his loss.