You’ve about these performers in the pages of Ticket throughout the year—here are some of the stories that our reporters didn’t tell until nowThe scoop of 2007’s celebrity interviews

eporters like interviewing interesting people — local musicians, famous magicians, noted comedians, masochistic jackasses and anyone else from whom we can finagle a few minutes of phone or face time.

Every interview is different — every conversation, an adventure. But not everything we find out makes it into print the first time around—there just isn’t enough space sometimes.

And so, this being the final Ticket issue of 2007, we revisit some of our favorite conversations with the stars over the past 12 months. Read on, and learn something you didn’t know about such-and-such or so-and-so.

Most of our celebrity interviews are done over the phone because the celebs don’t live here, and we’re usually previewing an upcoming show. But I did meet Anderson at a coffee shop in Arroyo Grande, where the Yes front man lives (A.G., not the coffee shop).

It was odd because people were walking by, not knowing who Anderson was. So I wanted to grab them and say: “Hey—remember ‘Owner of a Lonely Heart?’ from MTV? This is him—the singer!”

But, of course, being the consummate professional, I resisted.

During our interview, Anderson had several good stories about touring with Yes. One time, while in an airport, he spotted one of the actors from “This is Spinal Tap”—a fake biography of an over-the-top metal band. A big fan of the movie, Anderson approached the actor, who didn’t recognize him. And in a moment of irony, the fake rock star brushed off the real one.

“I went to shake hands with a fictional rock star, and then he pushed me away and said, ‘I haven’t got time,’ ” Anderson recalled, laughing. “It was perfect.”

Anderson, who played at Mongo’s in Grover Beach in March, is a soft-spoken guy with a good sense of humor. In fact, it was his idea to have his photo taken next to the Elvis statue at Lightning Joe’s.

OK, I’ll let you in on a little secret here: If you see a story in Q&A format, that means it was a good interview. Which is to say there was a nice dialogue between interviewer and interviewee— so good that it just made sense to print the interview as a sort of a conversation. That’s how it was with Stiles, best known for his improv work on “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”

While most comedians we interview aren’t funny during the interviews, Stiles, who appeared at the PAC with improv friends Greg Proops, Chip Es-ten and Jeff Davis in April, was quick and witty.

Example: Stiles once lived in a house formerly inhabited by the flamboyant piano player Liberace. When I asked if the ghost of Liberace hid upstairs in his house, he quickly replied: “Yeah— in the closet.”

I always like to do a lot of research before interviewing celebrities. But this time, the research sort of stole my thunder.

Just before talking with Langston, I had read a 4,500-word interview in the Onion’s A.V. Club that covered everything: His beginnings with “Laugh-in,” why he first put a paper bag on his head, and the time Sinatra threatened to break his legs over a joke Langston told about him.

So this posed a dilemma: On the one hand, I thought it’d be lame to ask questions about something I already knew about. At the same time, I really, really wanted to share that Sinatra story with our own readers.

Turns out, I didn’t even have to ask. I’d just mentioned the fond memories I had of the show “Make Me Laugh” when he said, “They were fond memories for me too, actually — except when Sinatra threatened me for making a joke on ‘Make Me Laugh.’”

And then I just sat back and listened to the entire story.

Comic Bob Zany brought Langston and Kato Kaelin to the Spyglass Inn on Thanksgiving weekend at Shell Beach.

Sometimes you have to draw a line. And with Kenny Aronoff, it was at 12:15 a.m.

Aronoff, a session drummer who was recording for John Fogerty’s new album at the time, had to reschedule our interview several times. He eventually

called me at home around 8 p.m. to say he could call me a little later that evening. Which was fine, I thought, thinking later meant, say, 9 or 9:30.

So when the phone rang at 12:15 a.m., my first reaction was: “No way.”

Then I looked at the caller ID, disbelieving: “You’ve got to be kidding.” It was him.

In 13 years of journalism, I think I’ve done one interview after midnight — following an execution. But as much as I wanted to talk to Aronoff, I was tired. And, like, it was 12:15.

So I let it ring.

I’m not sure what he was thinking. But he’s so energetic and amped, I think he may have just lost track of the time. Or maybe he thinks journalists are vampires.

Luckily, he found a small window of time at the studio the next day. (I could hear Fogerty’s wife in the background.) And Aronoff, who gave a mini- drum clinic and judged the Drum Circuit’s annual contest at The Gradu-

ate, turned out to be a fun interview.

If they’re hilarious on stage, most comedians must be funny in person, right? Not always.

In the case of stand-up comedian, actor and author George Carlin, they can be downright depressing.

Carlin’s dark world view, as local audiences learned in September, rests on “disappointment and disillusionment with my fellow humans,” he said. The same frustration, tempered with humor and sarcastic wit, is evident in the four-time Grammy winner’s comedy albums, books and movie roles.

“I don’t really participate emotionally in the American drama. I don’t really care what the outcome is,” Carlin admitted. “I have a suspicion, a very strong one, that this country is breathing its last gasps and maybe a hundred years is left.”

He sees parallels between the United States and now-toppled empires in Spain, Britain and ancient Rome.

Does Carlin’s cynicism hide an idealistic nature? It’s possible.

However, he added, “I’m a realist and a skeptic before the other.” No kidding.

With master illusionist David Copperfield brought his magic to the Cohan Center in February, I hoped to squeeze in a phone conversation with the hard-working pro.

After all, this is the guy who walked through the Great Wall of China, levitated over the Grand Canyon and made the Statue of Liberty vanish. Couldn’t he conjure up 20 minutes and a land line?

Apparently not. We communicated instead via e-mail questionnaire.

Copperfield dished on his favorite illusions, the magical movies “The Illusionist” and “The Prestige,” and his distaste for conjurers who share their secrets (they put “mom-and- pop magicians” out of work, he says). He even put in plugs for his charity — Project Magic—and his island resort, Musha Cay at Copperfield Bay.

Copperfield’s responses were predictable, but it’s the interview’s aftermath that cracks me up.

When I caught Copperfield’s act, he randomly picked me to come on stage as a lovely assistant. He even told me to plant a smooch on his soft, scented cheek.

As a nerdy kid with good grades, offbeat tastes and an admittedly strange sense of humor, I idolized “Weird Al” Yankovic.

I grew up with spoofs like “Fat,” “Eat It” and “Another One Rides the Bus.” To this day, the words to “Amish Paradise” pop into my head whenever Coolio starts rapping.

That’s why I was so pleased to find that Al is such a stand-up guy.

He’s funny and well-spoken, nice to his nerdy fans (check out the “Ask Al” section on his Web site), and a surprisingly smooth operator when it comes to juggling record labels, managers and preening pop stars.

No wonder his latest album, “Straight Outta Lynwood,” rocked. Its hit single, “White and Nerdy,” soared to No. 9 on the Billboard Hot 100 and became an online phenomenon.

“There’s a lot of junk out there but there’s some really great, creative, innovative stuff that’s coming out,” Yankovic said of YouTube, MySpace and other video-sharing sites.

“You don’t need a record deal or a TV deal or a movie deal,” he said. “Anybody can upload their stuff and get it out there. If it’s good, then people will see it.”

A guy who got his big break with “My Bologna” oughtta know.

Never has a conversation about horse semen been so hilarious.

When I interviewed San Luis Obispo native Chris Pontius, star of MTV’s painfully funny “Jackass” and “Wildboyz” back in January, his crazy, cuss word-laced stories held me captive for roughly an hour.

Here’s what you need to know about the man known as Pontius the Barbarian: He’s funny, talkative and surprisingly modest. And he’s insane.

While a regular person would shrink from swimming with killer whales, kissing cobras or covering his hand with vicious ants, Pontius relishes it.

He has no qualms about on-screen nudity. He treats public humiliation like a good-natured joke. And he’s willing to do practically anything — including drinking equine substances. Yuck.

He poured out story after ridiculous story about fame, petty crime and drunken antics. Like the time he rode a rickety “vomit comet” in Russia. Or the time he kicked out a police car window — in Australia, no less.

I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.