Misty and I once bought a raggedy old limousine for $90.
We needed transportation and would rather look eccentric than poor.
To add to the effect,
we colored it powder blue with house paint and a brush.
At a gas station two tough guys said they knew the car
and we owed big money there. We’d never been there before in our life!
I floored it and sped away at four miles an hour.
We drove from Orlando to Panama City for a booking in a club.
The owner said, “This is the first I’ve heard that a band was coming in.
I hope you’re Disco. That’s all we want.”
We had a feeling the gig was not going to go well.
A Wendy’s cashier demanded that I show ID
to prove that I was NOT eligible for the senior discount.
A former associate of ours once kept our new Corvette
locked in his garage in New Mexico, and wouldn’t let us have it.
We called a friend in Massachusetts and he flew out there,
broke into the garage, and stole it back for us.
We have always gotten by with help from our friends.
Sammy Becker wasn’t really a bad boy, but he was always in hot water.
He often stole stuff and brought it to school for show-and-tell.
One day he brought a case of white powder in small corked bottles.
If you spit into a bottle, replaced the cork, and shook it up,
the cork would pop and shoot about fifty feet.
It was a laxative. Apparently a strong one.
A good show should end with the last word or note from the featured act.
No emcee or canned chase music.
The silence lets the audience think about what they’ve just experienced.
It’s dramatically effective.
An old show biz saying: “The last guy onstage… it’s his show.”
What the emcee said before an act he doesn’t like:
“And now I’d like to prevent…”
What the emcee said after an act he doesn’t like:
“Let’s give him a big hand… right across the mouth.”
Words like “Mississippi” and “assessments” use up so many esses
that I don’t have enough left for other words.
I was told that by drinking lots and lots of water
it would cure my asthma.
Of course I wouldn’t be allowed in the pool.
The Entertainer’s Epitaph…
“A little song, a little dance,
A little seltzer down the pants.”
The interviewer said, “Surely you jest.”
I said, “I’m serious, and don’t call me Shirley!”
Bigfoot was making a phone call.
Two hunters spotted him.
One said, “Oh, my God! It’s Bigfoot!”
The other said, “Oh, my God! It’s a pay phone!”
I used to play water polo but my horse drowned.
The little calf said, “Oh goody! We’re having grass!”
I said, “What’s that Latin dance where they clap their hands?”
Misty said, “The Spanish Fly.”
She just said, “I’ve got two frogs in the kitchen.”
I said, “That sounds like an Ames Brothers song.”
I said, “What are we having for supper?”
She said, “A pile of debris.”
When I met Misty Morgan she was Maryanne Donahue,
but everybody just called her Mary.
I’m sure she was the first “Misty” on earth,
and now there are millions of them,
and they don’t have any idea who was the first.
Some days I have no idea what I’m doing.
Those are often the days I write my best stuff.