Muh-hy Duh-hear Luh-ly-zhacko,

Whudayizhdish?

Muh-hunday? Noshid! Sshiiiiiiiddt! H'itbarely shuh-heemslyg Shuh-hunday...hic...ta me! H'I dunnowherethuh wuh-wuh-wheekennwenn, muhann! Budizzgone! Jushlikethad! Luh-luh-l'hoooongone!

HEY, Duh-hid h'I tellya? H'I hurdmyharm! NoSHIDT! N'ho, n'hot the h'wone h'I buh-buhroke. Thuh H'OTHER h'wone! Thuh... lemmesheee... thuh ruh-right hwone!

Huh?

N'ho, h'I buh-buh-buhroke muh-mhy lefff hwone. A cubbleyearzhago... Y'hoodrovemearounn... ruh-ruh- memmer? Tothuhbangk! Memmer?

W'hell, ish a luh-luhooong shtory, buhut, h'I buhroke muh-muh-my ruhight h'wone, doo! W'hennIw'huzhinnasixssshgrade.

Muh-man, thadfirshdime... wooo, waddabitzh! HurdlikeaMUHTH'RFUGG'R...hic!

Thuh-thuh... sheckundime... noddzhomush...

'Cuz h'I wazzh druh-druh-druhunck! Thuh sheckundime! Hah!

Sheers'n'Wuh-hormregardzhhh!
Fuh-hoster Broogsh Sherman

P Esh: H'it h'ain't buh-buh-broke thishdime! H'it'sh jush shprain'd! BuddidHUUURRTZZZZ....!!!

I think I'm finally getting back to normal, folks.

That election took a lot out of me, you know? And after the election, all this bullshit with the stock market and the auto companies going bankrupt... well, it's enough to kill anyone's sense of humor. I can't even look at my IRA anymore. And if I hear one more so-called 'news report' that is predicting a dire retail season for Christmas this year, I think I'm gonna scream. Hey! It's not news until it's happened! You can report about your horrible sales AFTER Christmas is over!

I firmly believe that a huge part of what's wrong with all of this crap - the stock market, the auto companies, and on and on - is our instant access to information coupled with so-called 'expert' commentators telling us what things are going to be like NEXT quarter. And with a half-dozen twenty-four hour news channels like CNN and MSNBC repeating the 'news' over and over and over (not to mention all the completely-biased talk radio shows that are constantly tweaking our fears) it's no wonder we panic when the shit starts to hit the fan.

Well, I'm ready. Let the fucking shit fly, for crying out loud! I can't take it any more!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Tell me this: when did they start welding the goddamned tops onto the shampoo bottles? Huh? Used to be I could unscrew the cap and run some water into the bottle to make sure I'd used all the precious soap inside before dutifully tossing it into the recycling bin. No more! I sprained my wrist the other day trying to get the top off the last nearly-empty bottle I had and I never got all the shampoo out! Why on earth would they do that?! Who decides these things? The Republicans?

I tried to picture myself in the meeting at the shampoo company where some genius says: “Hey, why don't we just make it so the top doesn't come off? That way, people will have a tough time using up all the shampoo and we can force them to buy another bottle since they can't get those last two washes out of what's left inside?”

“Why, that's a stupendous idea, Goodman, my good man! It will add pennies to our bottom line and frustrate the bejeezus out of the old folks at the same time! I think this calls for a promotion. How does Regional Vice-President of Tom-Foolery sound to you?”

Personally, I've just about decided to stop washing my hair altogether.

Remember, these are the same evil shampoo people who came up with 'Lather, rinse, repeat' thinking we were dumb enough to wash our hair TWICE every time we took a shower.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I was up until two o'clock last night cleaning my room. I think I've finally got to the point after my failed marriage where I can get back into the dating scene, so I wanted my bedroom to be nice, just in case I can convince some poor woman to come home and 'do' me.

After I had swept up four year's worth of dust (I swear the vacuum bag felt like it was a pound heavier when I was done), I carefully organized my porn magazines by category and date, placing them in cardboard boxes instead of the haphazard stacks that had been sitting on the floor along one wall next to the bed. That way, should whoever the lucky girl be want to get right to the classic, older porn, she'll be able to find it more easily because now it's in its very own box which is cleverly marked 'VINTAGE PORN'.

See how thoughtful I am?

Wish me luck!

Oh, and T.G.I.F., you bastards!

coolhandmarty@gmail.com

Since the old lady moved out I've been trying to get things back the way I like them. It's taken three plus years but I finally rescued a bunch of records from temporary banishment in the basement back to their rightful spot on the first floor. So far I've moved about 2400 LPs and several boxes of 45s, so this time around I thought I'd spotlight a couple of my favorite picture sleeves. Enjoy!

Steve Martin used to be the funniest comedian out there way back in the 70's. I first remember him from early appearances on the 'Mike Douglas Show' where he played banjo with a trick arrow through his head while spouting non sequiturs. Even though his act left Mike and his audience more baffled than tickled, Martin persevered, and by the time I got to college he was playing university campuses across the country and selling more records than Elvis.

Born in Waco, Texas and raised in southern California, Martin studied philosophy in college before dropping out to pursue comedy full time. He worked as a writer on the 'Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour' (the staff of writers there won an Emmy in 1969), Glen Campbell's show and on Sonny and Cher's show, where he also appeared occasionally in skits.

After polishing his own routine in local comedy clubs, Martin moved up to opening for musical acts like The Carpenters and The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. (Ironically, when I saw him at EMU in the late seventies, Lovin' Spoonful founder John Sebastian was opening for him and the audience could barely sit through the music, shouting 'We want Steve!' until the poor bastard finally sang the theme from 'Welcome Back Kotter' and exited stage right.)

Steve worked his way up to an appearance on the 'Tonight Show', and, along with appearances on SNL and 'The Gong Show', picked up enough steam to get a record deal. His first album 'Let's Get Small' garnered Martin a national audience and the punchline from one of his bits, 'Excuuuu-uuuse me!' became a catch phrase that swept the nation.

The single 'King Tut' came from Martin's second LP, 'A Wild and Crazy Guy' (which also became a basis for a recurring bit on SNL featuring himself and Dan Aykroyd). Both of his first two albums won Grammys for Best Comedy Record and 'Wild and Crazy Guy' shot to the #2 position on the Billboard charts, propelled by 'King Tut' , which went all the way to #17 on the Hot 100 in 1978.

After conquering the recording industry and stand up comedy, Martin set his sights on Hollywood, writing and starring in his first film, a short called 'The Absent-Minded Waiter', which won an Oscar nomination in 1977. From there he went on to be directed by Carl Reiner in 'The Jerk', Martin's first starring vehicle and probably still the funniest of all his movies.Since then, Martin has appeared in and/or written and/or served as executive producer for dozens of films, including 'Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid' (1982), 'The Man With Two Brains' (1983), 'Little Shop of Horrors' (1986) and 'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels' (1988). He even made it to mainstream pictures, playing straight roles in tamer stuff like 'Parenthood' (1989), 'Father of the Bride' (1991) and 'Bringing Down the House' (2003) - which also featured Queen Latifah, and recently starred alongside Beyonce as Inspector Clousseau in the 2006 'Pink Panther' remake.

An accomplished banjo player, Martin shares a Grammy for Best Country Instrumental Performance (along with several other banjo players, including the legendary Earl Scruggs) for their 2001 recording of 'Foggy Mountain Breakdown'.

Steve's also authored several books, ranging from his 1979 comedy release 'Cruel Shoes' to last year's autobiography 'Born Standing Up'.

To this day, Martin remains a regular host of 'Saturday Night Live', and is running neck-and-neck with Alec Baldwin for most appearances as host of the popular late night comedy show, and rumor has it there will be a second 'Pink Panther' movie some time next year.

I have to be honest, though, I think Steve 'jumped the shark' with 'Parenthood', and I couldn't bring myself to even watch 'Pink Panther' (even with Beyonce in almost every frame) because the trailer for it made him look so bad compared to the late, great Peter Sellers. But you gotta love this guy! He just keeps plugging away!

Speaking of plugging away, my comedy records (including copies of Martin's LPs) are still in boxes sitting on the kitchen floor while my back recovers from moving my 78s, my jazz vocals, my country and western, my R & B and several hundred miscellaneous records last weekend. Unfortunately, all the first floor shelves are full and the comedy records have to go up one more flight of stairs.

I figure I should have everything where it belongs by the time Barack Obama starts his second term. What's that you say? I'm lazy? YOU think I'M lazy?

Well, excuuuuuuu-uuuse ME!

My Dear Lyzako,

Our first snowfall of the season came just before the morning rush yesterday, and although it wasn't significant in terms of being measurable, it certainly caused some problems on the west side, where many ramps were closed due to icy conditions. Several spin-out accidents were reported.

I managed to get where I needed to be without a fuss, though, the snow affecting things far less the further east I traveled across the metro area.

During the course of the day, as I toiled away, every muscle in my body aching and burning from the strain of the past week's labor, I couldn't help but feel the effects of Father Time, who suddenly seems to be pushing me along at breakneck speed. By the time Happy Hour arrived, I was exhausted, and two tall Blue at BW3 was all I could handle before coming home and collapsing across my bed.

I slept more than ten hours last night, the first time I've had more than six straight in I can't remember when.

Incidentally, thanks to Daylight Savings Time, much of Happy Hour now occurs after sunset and will continue to do so until well into February, the icy hand of Winter finally gripping this part of the globe and robbing us of sunshine.

Speaking of being robbed, I feel as though the past few months have truly robbed me of my sense of humour. (I use the English spelling of the word here to emphasize the gravity of the situation.) Between the slumping economy and the fears of another great depression, the War in Iraq and worries over the new Administration's ability to solve all our problems in time for me to enjoy a prosperous retirement one day (I can't even look at my IRA statement without cringing), I have little time to laugh.

It used to be that I could make a joke of whatever happened on any given day, but my ability to do so has been severely hampered and I begin to fear that it may well have deserted me for good. For example, based on yesterday's events:

“Did you hear the one about the man and his wife who both got fired on the same day six weeks prior to Christmas? No? Well, looks like they aren't going to be helping the retail numbers any time soon. And speaking of retail, did you hear that Circuit City just filed for bankruptcy? Yeah, they did. Industry analysts are saying that if the economy keeps going the way it is, you may actually have to travel TO China to get your new flat screen television. By boat.”

See what I mean? Pathetic, is it not?

And although I'm anxious to get beyond the Bush years and into the Obama era, there is no shortage of folks who will volunteer their opinions of our President-elect to dampen my enthusiasm. I've heard that Rush Limbaugh has already begun blaming the worsening economic climate on the Democrats, calling this the beginning of the 'Obama recession'. It's difficult to laugh at comments like that, especially knowing that so many people believe them. So many stupid, stupid unfunny people.

So here I sit, my friend in dire need of a joke or humourous observation that would conjure up a belly laugh and, at least momentarily, make me forget all the troubles of the modern world. All my troubles, to be selfishly exact.

Which brings me back to you. At one point in the not-so-distant past, I could count on your wry observations and steady wit to get me past my day-to-day woes. Happy Hour was spent in your company at least twice a week, if not more like five times, and I now understand what a luxury that truly was to have someone with an arsenal of fresh jokes at the ready and the skill to administer them at just the right moments. To say that I miss it would be an understatement.

But alas, life moves on and things change.

Not always for the better.

Still (Barely) Getting By on My Wit and Charm,
Sad Sack Sherman

The Nightmare

“Whuh, where am I? Hello?”

“Yes?”

“Who are you?”

“Never mind who I am. What do you remember?”

“Hmmm... The last thing I remember was... was watching television.”

“And...?”

“I wanna say I was watching something about church. No, wait! It was something about politics! The election! That's right! The goddamned election! Who's the President? And WHERE in the fuck AM I?”

“Hell.”

“Hell?!”

“Yes, Hell.”

“Well, if I'm in Hell, then who the Hell won the election?!!”

“Excuse me?”

“WHO THE FUCK IS THE GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING PRESIDENT?!!”

“You mean of the United States?”

“FOR CHRIST'S SAKE YES! THE UNITED FUCKING STATES!!”

“John McCain.”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAHHHHAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

- Ye Olde Blowharde