And a lot of the obits for Richard Harris are also parsing words in odd ways.  I get the idea that if their writers were allowed to throw tact to the wind, they'd all begin like this…

Richard Harris, an Irish-born actor who was best known for heavy drinking, has amazed everyone who knew him by living to the age of 72…

I saw Harris in the early-80's revival of Camelot in which he replaced an ailing Richard Burton.  A night or two before, he had been on with Mr. Carson, regaling America with some tale of him and Peter O'Toole quaffing gallons of spirits one night and waking up in the damnedest place.  Johnny mentioned that O'Toole was booked for the show the following week and Harris said, "Well, ask him if he remembers that night and if he says he does, he's a damned liar."  Odd how I recall that and not one thing about his performance as King Arthur.

The obits and co-workers are all saluting Senator Paul Wellstone as a man who voted his conscience and only wanted what was best for the people.  The mourners, including other members of the Senate, are all making it sound like that's a unique, astounding trait in a U.S. Senator…

I have a mess of great photos sitting in a directory on my "C" drive, waiting for some excuse to slap them up here.  Deciding I don't need an event to justify this, I decided to just put up this one of Soupy Sales teaching "The Mouse" to Ed Sullivan.  "The Mouse" was a dance craze that Mr. Sales popularized though, as I once heard someone say of another dance craze, "No one ever did it for more than twenty seconds unless they were being paid to do so."  In the photo, Ed sure looks like he's eager to take the wife out for a night on the town, doing "The Mouse."

Two things bother me about the news coverage I'm watching about the arrest of two men in the sniper investigation.  I just heard Robert Novak on CNN ask the questions, "Can these men get a fair trial?  Who cares?"  I always thought the concept of a "fair trial" was as much for society's benefit as that of the accused.  I mean, isn't it in our interest to make sure the folks who are convicted are actually guilty?  Sometimes, I think people get so eager to see crimes punished that they feel arresting the wrong person is almost as good as arresting the right one.

Secondly: Newspeople are telling us that John Allen Muhammad is probably the sniper who murdered ten innocent people and that he was so crazed at one point that his wife had to get a permanent restraining order to keep him away from her.  They're also telling us that the other suspect, John Lee Malvo, was linked by fingerprints to a murder and robbery at a liquor store.  Okay…but the news people also keep referring to them as "these gentlemen," as in, "authorities believe they have a strong case against these gentlemen."

I don't know for sure that the two suspects in custody committed the murders.  But I'm pretty sure they aren't "gentlemen."

Believe it or do not, I'm actually getting e-mails from folks asking what a "pantomime goose" is. In British parlance, the word "pantomime" sometimes denotes a theatrical impersonation. In other words, when I dress up in my antelope suit, I am a "pantomime antelope." The Python boys had some running gags on their program involving a "pantomime horse" and a "pantomime Princess Margaret," and our friend Kim "Howard" Johnson has played a "pantomime goose" in some of their stage presentations.

Which is as good a time as any to mention that Kim/Howard has a website full of Python facts and features. Here's the link to (what else?) The Pantomime Goose.

• What Bush Isn't Saying About Iraq by Michael Kinsley, Slate
• Bush Enlists Government Aid in GOP Campaign by Mike Allen, Washington Post
• How Will We Stop the Killings? by William F. Buckley, National Review
• Dead Parrot Society by Paul Krugman, New York Times
• Coloring the Sniper News by Michelle Malkin, Jewish World Review
• Oh, No! Geraldo Has Arrived! by Roger L. Simon, Jewish World Review

The passing of Adolph Green reminds me of one of my all-time favorite Johnny Carson ad-libs.  It occurred back when Mr. Green's loving spouse — singer-actress Phyllis Newman — was a regular guest on The Tonight Show.  Apparently, they needed a quick cash infusion in the Green household, so Phyllis came up with an idea to boost her hubby's ASCAP rating.  She had an arranger she knew assemble a medley of a few dozen songs for which Adolph had written lyrics.

So she goes on Mr. Carson's program and sings this shameless montage of her husband's hits, tied together by an autobiographical theme.  She sings of how she came to "New York, New York" and it was her "Never Never Land" where she found Adolph "Just In Time" and felt "Lucky To Be Me" because she'd learned to "Make Someone Happy" but now "The Party's Over," et cetera, et cetera.  At the close of all this, she took her bow, went over and sat in the guest chair next to the host.

Johnny turned to her and said, "It's too bad you didn't marry Irving Berlin.  You could have finished with 'God Bless America.'"

Adolph Green co-wrote the scripts and lyrics for Bells Are Ringing, Singin' in the Rain, Peter Pan, Do-Re-Mi, Wonderful Town, Applause, The Band Wagon, The Will Rogers Follies, On the Town, Good News, On the Twentieth Century and several other Broadway shows and movies that will forever endure.  It was a career that would have been impressive at a third its length, filled as it was not only with successful works but with ones that were widely-respected and admired.  He passed away yesterday at the age of 87, and the whole concept of "musical comedy" is a little poorer for that news.  As are we all.

If the Washington-based sniper accomplishes nothing else, he has greatly lowered the bar for what qualifies as "Breaking News" on the cable channels.  Today on CNN, Connie Chung looked almost embarrassed by the feeble info she was offering under that banner…especially since it all interrupted and consumed most of an episode of Crossfire that started with the announcement that, due to popular request, they were going to get away from sniper coverage and back to politics.  They didn't.

I also love the parade of "experts" who start with the cautionary word that absolutely nothing is known about the sniper (or snipers, by some theories) and then proceed to speculate on his/their motives, training, master plan, shirt size and favorite color.  They're almost as good as the "witnesses" who may not have seen anything that relates to the sniper but they saw something.  I'm waiting for the guy who'll say, "I can confirm that the sniper was driving a white van because I was there, dressed as a pantomime goose."

Speaking of the funniest sketches ever done on television, a top contender would be "This Is Your Story," a take-off on the TV show, This Is Your Life, as fractured by Sid Caesar, Carl Reiner and Howie Morris on Your Show of Shows.  If you have Real Player installed on your computer, you can view the entire thing online at this link.  See why the people who don't recognize Howie as Ernest T. Bass all recognize him as Uncle Goopy.

And you can view the second-funniest sketch from that show — "The German General" — by clicking on this link.  And the third-funniest ("The Clock") is at this link.

And here's a page with three clip montages from The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.  The first one includes the complete "Copper Clanger Caper" starring Jack Webb and Johnny.  A classic bit of self-parody by Mr. Webb.

More on the death of the dead parrot: I am delighted to receive the following info from an old pen-pal, Kim "Howard" Johnson, who knows more about Monty Python than any man alive. He's authored four Python books including the best one — The First 280 Years of Monty Python — and worked on their films and concerts, and he's currently personal assistant to John Cleese. Can't get much more qualified than that. About the topic we've been discussing here, he writes…

I spoke to both John and Michael about it a couple of weeks after it aired, so I believe these are the most reliable accounts — but John's memory wasn't even clear at that time, and his subsequent memories are not completely consistent. But here's what I know.

John Cleese and Michael Palin were in New York doing publicity for Fierce Creatures. They had agreed to do a guest shot on SNL, appearing in, as I recall, three sketches. The first was part of the opener, a sketch parodying the then-new TV rating system. I think one or both of them appeared in another segment (possibly involving the news — I don't have any notes with me). Lorne wanted them to do a third segment. John seems to recall that since he was so busy with publicity, that he was happy to do a Python sketch, as it would involve the least work on his part. It is unclear whether John or Lorne initially suggested this, and we'll probably never know.

(Incidentally, a friend of mine who was a cast member at the time had me e-mail the script of the Parrot sketch to SNL — I suspect it had more to do with putting it on cue cards, as that seems to be how SNL operates, than worries that John and Mike would forget it, although neither of them had performed the sketch in many years. So, they were rusty — I'm not even sure if they ever rehearsed it beforehand…)

That Saturday, John got up around 5 a.m. and did some 40 interviews throughout the day, so he was clearly exhausted. The Parrot Sketch was performed during the final half-hour — about 12:30-12:45 am — normally used for filler and as a dumping ground for weaker sketches, and expectations are low.

I recall watching it on TV and being slightly disappointed at the subdued laughter. But, what I later found out, and what would not be apparent to home viewers, was that it was also performed on a set against the back wall. In other words, the majority of the live audience at SNL sits in the balcony, and it is almost impossible to see the actors performing in this area; the relative few with main floor seats had to turn completely around to see the sketch being performed behind them. In other words, most audience members had to watch it on one of the small TV monitors in the studio — it's possible some of them didn't even realize it was being performed live…

Not the best way to schedule and present one of the all-time great comedy sketches. In fact, there were rumors later that Lorne Michaels had even deliberately sabotaged the sketch out of some misguided Python-SNL jealousy (which I think is highly unlikely).

When I talked to Michael and John a couple of weeks later, Michael was genuinely surprised when I asked him about the response to the sketch — he hadn't noticed any particular lack of reaction. And indeed, in the studio, there may not have been (depending on how the audience was miked and how the sound levels were set for home broadcast). I have my doubts about Lorne giving that speech to John and Michael immediately after the sketch, though, as I'm sure one or the other would have mentioned it to me.

I can vouch for the reaction at the Hollywood Bowl, however (I was on stage with the group each night, dressed like a pantomime goose), and the reaction to the Python show at the City Center a few years earlier was the same.

So, this is a bit of Python Rashomon. Was their timing off? Were they victims of circumstance? Were they set up? Or did the sketch receive a perfectly fine reaction in the studio? There's evidence to support any of these, so take your pick.

Thanks, Kim. For what it's worth, I think the suggestion of sabotage is ridiculous. I would also presume that the reason they needed a copy of the sketch material was not so it could be on cue cards (which Palin and Cleese presumably didn't use) but so the director could have it in the script from which he called camera cuts. And they certainly must have done a couple of rehearsals, if only so the director and camera operators could have figured out how to cover it, plus they presumably did it in the dress rehearsal.

My impression, as I think back on that night, was that the audience was warm to Cleese and Palin in the show's cold opening, and to Palin when he appeared briefly in another sketch. But they were far more excited about the musical guest, Beck, who got more applause than Cleese or Palin ever did that night. Perhaps that was the problem right there. The parrot routine came, as you mentioned, near the end and I felt it failed, at least in part, because it was disconnected from the rest of the program. It was like Saturday Night Live stopped for five minutes and suddenly, there was this show on that had nothing to do with SNL, its regulars, that night's host (Kevin Spacey) or the musical guest. Also, of course, there's a fine tradition of sketches that air in the last fifteen minutes not doing well, period.

I think all that, plus some of the other things you mention, may be the explanation. Their timing did seem to be a bit off, perhaps because they were weary or under-rehearsed but perhaps also because they'd grown used to doing the bit with live audiences screaming in recognition over every line, and weren't quite able to readjust to the more subdued response. (I should mention that I'm dwelling on this because I think Michael Palin and John Cleese are two of the all-time great sketch performers in the history of comedy, and it was stunning to see them not be well-received in anything, let alone their best sketch.)

It's interesting to hear that Mr. Palin didn't notice a paucity of laughter because I recall a certain look on his face that suggested he was thinking, "Boy, are we in trouble." On the other hand, I don't recall seeing that look when I saw the sketch rerun later and I wonder if the version currently being aired is the same one. The SNL reruns occasionally substitute a bit from the dress rehearsal when the live version wasn't as good. I have a suspicion here that the routine went better in dress than air (which is why it wasn't cut) and that what's rerun now is the dress rehearsal version.

Whatever, as mentioned, that particular SNL reruns on October 26 on Comedy Central, at 4 PM in most time zones. It's also worth catching for Norm MacDonald's amazing impression of David Letterman in one of the early sketches. And don't you just love the fact that a grown man could vouch for something because he was present at the moment, dressed like a pantomime goose? That's what we need more of in all these televised trials. ("Your honor, I can testify that Detective Fuhrman could not have planted the bloody glove at the Rockingham estate. I know because I was there at the time, dressed as a pantomime goose.")

Authorities in Las Vegas are reporting that an 87-year-old man found stabbed to death in the desert has been identified as Jay R. Smith, a child actor in the old "Our Gang" comedies.  Some of the reports identify him as having played the character of "Freckles," which has prompted some e-mail inquiries to this site.  Just a few months ago, in this item, we discussed a gent who fraudulently claimed to have played "Freckles" in those films…a character who never existed.  Jay R. Smith was, indeed, an actor in 36 "Our Gang" shorts from 1925 until just after they began making talking pictures in 1929.

He had very little to do in most of these films and was not a major player but, yes, he was a cast member.  The possible confusion here is that, though the kid had a lot of freckles, he didn't play a character named Freckles.  (Lots of Our Gangers had freckles.  Smith was more or less brought in to replace Mickey Daniels, who had just as many.  In the above photo, Mickey's the tall kid at left behind Fat Joe Cobb and Jay R. Smith is the kid at far right.)

Sad to hear of his death.  We are fast approaching the day when there won't be one single human being alive who ever appeared in silent pictures.

Recently in the New York Review of Books, Anthony Lewis delivered what may be the definitive summary of the case against Bush's Iraq policy.  Here's a link to it.  If I can find a decent rebuttal or counter-argument, I'll link to it, as well.  Like I keep saying, I'm not convinced.

What's the difference between a Looney Tune and a Merrie Melody? That's a very good question.  But it's also an Incessantly Asked Question so we answer it in that section, on this new page.

The link via which you could order a copy of Live From New York from Amazon was broken and is now fixed.  Sorry.  And thanks to Tom Abrahamson for alerting me.

While you're in the mood to think about Saturday Night Live, you might hustle over to www.harrisonline.com and take in the audio of the fine interview that Paul Harris, the pride of St. Louis radio, did with Tom Shales about his new book.  Perhaps, unlike me, you can even fathom why Shales thinks Will Farrell was a better sketch player than Phil Hartman.  There's also a link there for Paul's weekly chat with my pal, TV critic Aaron Barnhart, plus a rant about "the sniper media."

Also, do consider ordering Paul's Harris Challenge 2003 Trivia Calendar.  Paul has this terrific game show segment on his program and he's made it into a calendar that you can order through his website.  I love this kind of stuff.

E-mail buddy Cory Strode bills himself as "The Best Dressed Man in Comics."  This is quite a claim until you look at everyone else in comics and see how they dress.  At many a comic convention, Emmett Kelly could be a fashion plate.  In any case, Cory is also wise in many things, one of them being matters of Monty Python.  In response to my earlier item, he sent me the following explanation, which I believe I've heard elsewhere…

Cleese and Palin came to SNL to do the dead parrot sketch as a promotion for a movie coming up…and when they came out, the audience went completely insane, cheering and applauding. They went through the sketch, and there was no laughter…they started to panic, wondering what they were doing wrong, made it through the sketch and were again greeted with thunderous applause, cheering and stomping.  Cleese and Palin went off stage, went to Lorne and started apologizing for how they bombed, saying that they were horribly sorry…and Michaels said, "You're kidding, right?"  No, they insisted and started to apologize more, and Michaels cut them off, "You weren't watching the audience.  They were mouthing the words to the sketch along with you.  They didn't hate it, they loved it because they knew it by heart. You're like a band that comes out to perform its greatest hits and the audience sings along.  You've become the Beatles."

I wouldn't doubt that Michaels said that to them but I was in the audience at the Hollywood Bowl when those gents performed the sketch for a stadium full of Python fans, every one of whom knew the lines, verbatim.  There was riotous laughter and cheering at the close of every sentence.  There was no silence because the crowd was mouthing the words along.  For that matter, Saturday Night Live audiences seem to express their greatest audible glee when they're getting catch phrases and characters they already know by heart.  Familiarity does not stun them into silence.  (If it did, Adam Sandler would not have a career.)

So I think Mr. Michaels was just being graceful and soothing.  I think the sketch bombed.

Nevertheless, I thank Cory for an alternate theory.  He's an enormously bright guy as you'll see when you visit his website and 'blog, which you can do by clicking right, smack-dab here.