Judging From Some Tourists’ Expectations, Fantasy Tours Is Well-Named

It’s tourist time, of course. And Michael Kellerman, proprietor of Hollywood Fantasy Tours, expects the usual screwy questions, such as whether his package includes walks through the houses of the stars. “Some people think the stars will greet them at the door,” he said.

But the oddest query was posed by a visitor from overseas. “He wanted to know whether the celebrities were buried under their stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,” Kellerman said, “and, if so, were they buried upright?”

Every star cherishes a long engagement: The Hollywood Chamber of Commerce charges celebs $10,000 for the privilege of acquiring a star on the Walk of Fame. Kellerman quipped that perhaps the chamber should charge a few thousand bucks more and throw in a burial spot under the plaque.

“It’s a prime location,” he said. “I think some stars would go for it. After all, it has more visibility than a cemetery.”

The No-Parking Spots of Fame: OK, enough about planting entertainers. Today’s shots deal with where they can park during their lifetimes (see photo). They’re not wanted everywhere, you know.

On a visit to Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco, Doug Schiller of Riverside noticed a sign that would discourage anyone who wanted to strum a tune about little cable cars climbing halfway to the stars (see photo).

It reminded me of a casting agency’s sign in West L.A. that had a cautionary note for the Brandos and DeNiros of the world.

Take a deep breath: The Bulwer-Lytton bad-writing competition is held by San Jose State University to commemorate the 19th century author who opened a novel with the words “It was a dark and stormy night. . . .”

This year, a Vancouver woman was the grand prize winner for poor fiction. But Mark Hermann of Yorba Linda won a much coveted dishonorable mention award in the “Romance” category for this opening:

“ ‘Was it only a dream then?’ she lamented, lying on her side, and were these sweat-soaked sheets merely the product of her lonely erotic subconscious, and the tears began to flow as she turned over onto her other side, abated briefly as she noticed the teeth still in the glass at the bedside, and began again in earnest as she recognized the familiar reverberation of the flushing toilet in the bathroom--yes, Earl had stayed the night!”

Not well done, Hermann! Not well done!

A credit card that was really maxed out: Duane Stroh of Glendale passed along a payment reminder that he thinks was actually meant for the Pentagon (see accompanying).

L.A. Insult of the Day: In the alumni magazine of the University of Colorado, Jonathan Dowling saw an article that warned that the population in that area of the state was increasing to the point where “it’ll be emphatically L.A.” in 20 years. “We’ll have power outages like L.A., jammed freeways, pollution and all the rest,” the article said.

And 70-degree days in December?

miscelLAny: Let’s close with a passage from the book “Carpool Tunnel Syndrome,” by Judy Gruen of L.A., a parent’s humorous take on the travails of shuttling kids:

My Ford is their shepherd;

They shall not walk;

They maketh the seats recline back at green lights;

They lead one another in carpool contention;

They disrupteth my soul . . .

They straggle out from the car dragging backpacks;

I can now go get coffee.

My latte runneth over.

Surely safe driving discounts shall follow me all the days of my life. . . .

Steve Harvey can be reached at (800) LA-TIMES, Ext. 77083, by fax at (213) 237-4712, by mail at Metro, L.A. Times, 202 W. 1st St., L.A., 90012 and by e-mail at steve.harvey@latimes.com.