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Posted on 11/05/2007 5:59:52 PM PST by laurenmarlowe
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Evening yarddog, it’s good to see you!
Know what you mean, Laurel and Hardy were side-splitters!
From Xerox ~ Let's Say Thanks to our Troops
Simple. Easy. Involve your kids.
We can each send thanks every single day.
I’m gonna have to watch some of these now...
Been on a classic monster binge..time to move on to comedy.
“Hmmm... if a kid’s getting one in AIT, he’s a screw-up.”
From what I hear, there are a number of them. It’s been five weeks now, and it’s been something EVERY week. I’d a thought the sergeants would have pulled the bozos out and put them in their own little group!
No kidding...
Liquid bread!!!
~~snerk~~
That’s funny!
I think it was the training they got in Vaudeville.
W.C was an incredible juggler as well.
Good evening Taz...made pasta for dinner.:)
How is your evening progressing?
I don’t even know how I stumbled across the DVD I found, but I recognized Arbuckle’s name (which had been dirt for many years), and saw Keaton’s afterward. I didn’t know that Keaton debuted with Arbuckle as his director.
L0L!! or the fatal glass of beer!
(An unexpected knock at the door prompts Snavely to stand and hold up his lantern.)
W.C.: “Who’s thar?”
Mountie “OP”: “Officer Posthlewhistle of the Canadian Mounted.”
(He enters)
W.C: “Hello, Officer.”
OP: “Good Evenin’, Mr. Snavely.”
W.C.: “Still snowing?”
OP: “I don’t know. To tell ya the truth, I never looked.” (As OP knocks layers of snow off his coat with his glove. NOTE: This gag, like many others in Fields’ canon, may have stemmed from reality. In Robert Lewis Taylor’s standard 1949 biography, W.C. Fields: His Follies and Fortunes (St. Martin’s Press, New York), there’s an anecdote about a dwarf with a low I.Q. named Shorty whom Fields had hired for his stage act and to perform personal valet services. Fields sent Shorty out on a chore, but he returned late—covered in snow. When Fields asked him if it was snowing, Shorty responded: “I don’t know. I didn’t notice.”)
W.C.: “Get your man?”
OP: “Well, not yet, but I got my eye on ‘im.”
W.C.: “Well, that’s somethin’.” (W.C. hangs his lantern and sits)
(Note: Throughout this scene, notice the noisy creaking and shaking of the cabin.) (OP takes off his coat and sits.)
OP: “You pullin’ out?”
W.C.: “Figurin’ on goin’ over the rim tonight.”
OP: “How’s your son Chester” You hear’d from him lately?”
(WC stands as OP sits down—for no apparent reason.)
W.C.: “I ain’t a-hear’d from Chester it’ll be a year come Michaelmas.”* (*NOTE: Michaelmas is a religious holiday or “feast day” celebrating the archangel Michael—of the Jewish and Christian testaments—observed on September 29.)
OP: “I was thinkin’ of the song that you writ about. I wanted to sing it to mah wife last night. (WC sits.) Ya know, we gotta boy just about Chester’s age, who’s gotta hankerin’ to go to the city. (This elicits a serious glance from WC). Have ya got your dulcimer here?
W.C.: “Yes I have, officer.”
OP: “I wonder if you’d mind singin’ me that song?” (He places a hand on W.C.’s shoulder.)
W.C.: “I’d be tickled to death to.” (WC reaches over to a chest and pulls out an electric fan). You’ll have to excuse me though if my voice isn’t just right. You know, we can’t get any Ipecac* up in this part of the country. (*Note: Even if he could, an emetic, or vomit inducer such as Ipecac, wouldn’t help his voice.)
(W.C. puts the fan and other junk on the floor.)
OP: “Go right ahead, Mr. Snavely.”
(W.C. pulls out a dulcimer.)
W.C.: “You won’t consider me rude if I play with my mitts on, will ya?”
OP: “Not at all Mr. Snavely, not at all.”
(W.C. practice strums dulcimer, with big mittens on. OP assumes a pose of rapt attention.)
W.C.: (begins “singing”) (*Note: SEE footnote at bottom of page about this song).
“There was once a poor boy,
and he left his country home,
and came to the city
to look for work.
He promised his ma and pa
he would lead a civ’lized life,
and always shun the fatal curse
of drink.
(both men look at each other in silent agreement.)
Once in the city,
he got a situation in a quarry,
And there he made the acquaintance
of some college students.
(In a flashback, we see the bow-tied, bespeckled, straw-hatted Chester—in white attire—entering a saloon through swinging doors, while patrons urge him to come in and drink.)
Little thought they were demons,
for they wore the best of clothes,
but the clothes do not always make the gentleman.
(cut back to OP and WC, nodding in agreement.) (Note: Fields had a lifelong mistrust of “well-dressed gentlemen” borne of being snookered by many during his early days in show business.)
They tempted him to drink,
and they said he was a coward;
At last he took the fatal glass
of beer.
(cut back to Chester, in exaggerated poses, at first refusing drink; then downing the brew. The shock of the act causes his legs to snap together and eyes to shoot open. He slams the mug to the floor; it bounces and doesn’t break.)
He’d found what he’d done
he dashed the glass down on the floor,
and he staggered through the door
with delerium tree-mens.
(Chester spins out the flapping doors. Note: Delerium tremens, from one drink.)
(cut back to WC and OP; the latter is now visibly moved, wiping away tears and sobbing.)
Once upon the sidewalk
He met a Salvation Army girl,
and wickedly be broke
her tambourine.
Oh she said,
‘Heaven bless you’ (WC mistakenly—but actually for intentional comic effect—lifts his hand off the dulcimer while it’s still “playing.”)
And placed a mark upon his brow,
with a kick she’d learned
before she had been saved.
(A fully attired Salvation Army lady pops a wicked high kick to Chester’s head; he falls flat to the pavement.) (Cut back to WC and OP)
Now, as a moral to young men
who come down to the city,
don’t go ‘round breaking
people’s tambourines.”
(OP cries audibly.)
OP: “That certainly is a sad song.” (OP cries rather unconvicingly, and covers his face with a hanky—probably to hide laughter.) (WC pats his back.)
WC: “Don’t cry constable. It IS a sad song.” (WC throws the dulcimer into the chest and slams the lid with a loud crash.)
(WC stands)
“My uncle Ichabod said: ‘Speakin’ of the city, it ain’t no place for women, gal, but perty men go thar.” (OP cries loudly at this.) (WC pulls up his pack, ready to leave.)
“Always said somethin’ that would split your sides a-laughin.’ Comical old gentleman, he was.” (WC opens door.)
“Well, I think I’ll be a high-tailin’ it over the rim.”
(WC looks out the door) “And it ain’t a fit night out, for man or beast.” (A wad of snow is thrust into his face by an unseen hand.)
I was a comedy writer for Rodney Dangerfield. We worked on a couple of movie scripts as well. Very funny guy. I miss him.
MS.BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
((((((((((hugs)))))))))
Glad you had a good day with Poppa and Robert! Is
the weather pretty up there? It sure was here.
Thanks, lauren, for our National Anthem....singing along.
Howdy G8! How are ya this evening?
Thanks for sharing your favorites, all just outstanding comedians!
In case anyone is wondering, we're either under attack by the Riddler
or Luv's here!
She has to go out on a leash..Can’t chase squirrels. I had to block the circuit around the garage.
Vet thinks taking a right hand corner at 200mph is what hurt her wrist.
Puppy gates are back up...no zooming up stairs..
~and a cunning linguist...
I am in harness , keeping kids of the Commonwealth reasonably safe.
We’ll definitely include her in next week’s comedians!
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