Sunday, August 19, 2007

Groucho Marx

A few days ago we celebrated the death of Elvis and the fact that I was in Memphis when he died. All pretty exciting stuff.

But Elvis as a cutural icon paled next to the man who died 30 years ago today, August 19th, 1977; Groucho Marx.

Funny? Don Rickles is funny. Me is funny sometimes, when I catch a wave. But Groucho was THE MASTER. He was so far beyond humorous, that he could cut off your balls and make you think he just made love to you. And he could make love to your wife, and make you think he just soaped your back.

Groucho was the master's master of comedy. He was not my favorite comic. Jack Benny will always be my girl. But Groucho's wit was of such sophistication, that he could make even the ugliest piano mover think an insult was a whisper in the ear.

He couldn't dance or sing well, but he could do anything Groucho style better than his betters. Which was better than the tongue at Hillcrest.

And when he died, God said no more of that, and gave the world Robin Williams to consider as genius.

How sad we are.

Joe Postove

1 Comments:

Blogger phil said...

If you can find a copy of 'The Groucho Letters,' buy, steal or swipe it.

It's side-hurting funny, Joe!

~Al

3:34 PM  

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