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Two bags of jelly beans, a ten-year old and a Tilt-A-Whirl.

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User: Jiggsy
A thirtysomething living in the Armpit of America, New Jersey. With a wife, a house, a four-legged bullet named Maggie and a child on the way.

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Tuesday, June 15, 2004

How could she betray me like this? I had a $50 gift card to Barnes and Noble burning through my wallet since April and really nothing on my mind that I wanted to get. Lately, I’ve become very particular about what books I buy. There was a time I’d gladly toss down a couple of Lincolns for the latest Chricton novel, but lately I find myself buying books that I will read more than once. Some garden reference books, history books, maybe something by Bradbury or Tolkien, but little else. In the brick and mortar store, nothing really caught my eye. But online was a different story.

The Marx Brothers Collection on DVD. How could you go wrong? The bizarre antics of the mute Harpo, the sharp tongue of Groucho, Cheeko’s mad ramblings and wild schemes, I thought it was the perfect buy and, with shipping, would just about clear out the till on the gift card. I read some reviews and found that some of the material in here was less than their best (supposedly their work at Paramount was far better, although I still think "A Day at the Races" has some fantastic material). But there were a lot of extras, even cartoons from the 40’s and I thought it would still be a great buy. I decided to ask the Missus her opinion. She sat silently through my entire speech about the Brothers Marx. When I finally probed deeper for an answer, she leveled me with the following:

"Honey, I really don’t like the Marx Brothers. I prefer the Three Stooges."

(Insert sound of My Universe © grinding to a halt as 250 pounds of stunned husband slumps to the kitchen floor)

She doesn’t like the Marx Brothers? But… how? And why have you kept this terrible secret from me for so long?

It’s not that I have anything against the Stooges, but their shorts and movies are everywhere. You can hardly make it through a full day of TV without some station throwing up one of their slapstick routines. It’s likely there are kids in China who are trying to poke each other’s eyes out in sacred reverence to the Howard Brothers and Company at this very moment. But it’s slapstick, plain and simple. It’s humorous violence for the sake of it. I’m not saying that it’s not difficult to do, but it’s a holdover from the days of vaudeville and Buster Keaton. Audiences will always love a good belly laugh at the expense of someone else. Pain for one is humor for another.

When I was a kid I LOVED this kind of humor. The Stooges and Warner Brothers cartoons were rife with dynamite and falling anvils and giant lump-inducing mallets. I even practiced a few of these techniques on a friend (sorry about the mallet thing, Jimmy). But as I got older, I discovered the humor of what was being said rather than what was being done. Anybody could drop a 50-ton weight on you or bounce a pipe wrench off your skull, but it took real comedic genius to leave you with a burning insult or snappy one-liner. I held on to Bugs Bunny cartoons for the dialogue (the whole "Duck season! Wabbit season!" argument between Bugs and Daffy is pure gold), but moved on to the Marx Brothers for insults and rejoinders.

And now the Missus, my woman of wimmins, says she still prefers the Stooges. What am I to do?

Well, at least we both agree on buying the new Beastie Boys album.

posted by: Jiggsy at 06/15/04 11:12 | link | comments |

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