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).