Holy
mackerel! It’s a couple of years later, after my St. Patrick’s Day panegyric,
and I’ve made nor spiritual nor authorial progress. Best get cracking, then.
There are
some undeveloped issues in my prior pieces: music as texture; horror and
suspense stories on the radio as the model for the horror comics of the 50’s.
But I want to address a very pressing issue now.
Abbott and
Costello.
That’s
right. I want to discuss one of the greatest comic teams in the world! Oooh!
They represent, perhaps, the finest in comic genius since Aristophanes. The
biting satire! The erudite wit!
We all
remember the famous “Who’s on First” routine. Ah! How clever! See, the gag was:
the players on this ball team Abbott managed all had “unusual” names. Their
names were all pronouns or some such contrivances, which caused abnormal and
frantic confusion as Abbott tried to name the players and…Good grief! I can’t
believe it’s come to this. Abbott and Costello? Is that the best I can do?
Admittedly, St. Patrick is a tough act to follow, but – this? Well, it could
have been worse. What if I’d chosen to comment on the Three Stooges? Hmm? Or,
perhaps (shudder)the Ritz Brothers?
Well, comedy
has sunk even lower today in the current cultural trove. Lots of four-letter
words, low-brow observations.
(This was my
last entry of my prior blog. I never published it, as it is unfinished still. I
include it here as my first on my new blog).
