Just Two Words…

The recent passing of comedian and director Carl Reiner gave us all a chance to remember a master of his craft. It also gave me a chance to reread one of my favorite, and shortest, comedy bits of all time. Playing the reporter to Mel Brooks’ 2,000 year-old man, Reiner asks an obvious question, “Did you ever meet Jesus?” As nonchalantly as ordering an egg cream at a lunch counter, Brooks’ character replies yes, “Nice guy—wore sandals.”

Brilliance in four words.

No matter what faith, we are still talking about Jesus, Son of God, not a son of the Ferragamo shoe family. Yet blithe indifference is the beauty of this bit, the throw-away nature is what makes me burst out laughing every time. It’s not a punch line, not a carefully constructed story set up, and that second it takes to register makes the line all the greater.

Craftsmanship isn’t the art of the obvious, it’s knowing how perfect it is but still marveling at every detail and finding something new to appreciate. When my wife and I visit Rome, a visit to Gucci is tops on the (well, her) agenda. And while our budget doesn’t allow for the $3,000 black leather handbag, I can appreciate it for a lot more than a way to carry lipstick and 20 Euro bill. Touch the leather and you realize what “buttery soft” really means. Try seeing the stitching. You really can’t—the illusion of a straight line is the sewing equivalent of Seurat’s pointillism. The shine both beautifully diffuses the light but also draws it in like a black hole.

I’ve been thinking about beauty, particularly in the use of words, lately and how it can show up in the oddest of places.

The modern masters of the quip, rather than the stand-up joke, are well known—folks like Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde, and Winston Churchill were not only craftsmen but also commanders of the language. Unlike these writings, they didn’t need a second draft. The quip elevated to the front page of a newspaper is a great headline, and none was better than the New York Post’s “Headless Man in Topless Bar.” There in five words a master told the story (clearly not a natural death), a description of the salient details (decapitation), the place where it happened (strip joint), and all under tawdry air. Brilliance splashed across a page in 150 pt. type. You’re smiling just reading it.

But sometimes these gems come not from polished writers but from those who don’t even try. Watching the recent Netflix documentary on the Commission mob trials, the film showed Genovese crime boss “Fat Tony” Salerno as he was hustled into his car after making bail. On cue, the reporters swarmed around the vehicle in the usual scrum. What followed is unintentional comedy gold:

Reporter: “Mr. Salerno, do you have any comment about the charges.”

Fat Tony: “Go f—k yourself.”

Reporter: “Thank you.”

Fat Tony: “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome.” Just two words. But it’s the reflex reaction that just keeps me laughing. The “Thank you” is a wise ass retort to profanity, and funny in its own kind of way. But “You’re welcome” takes you back to any kid who gets a gift from a friend of their parent’s. The parent will ask “What do you say?” and the child will give a sheepish grin and reply, “Thank you.” The friend, smiling at this teachable moment, will then over exaggerate the “You’re welcome” and all is good with the world. So it was with Fat Tony, this weird reflex moment of politeness that momentarily interrupted his normal string obscenities and orders to murder people. In reality, it was just another way to say f- you, but so funny because the film clip shows how he startles himself with his own false courtesy.

Words and the behavior it engenders have been at the forefront of the news around New York, well at least if you are trying to get a drink outside. While inexplicably not allowing any indoor dining, and the related revenue it would bring to desperate restaurants, the state and city have concocted a series of ever-changing rules for extended outdoor eating and drinking. Bars in particular have had to tread carefully, as the line between violating open container laws and lawful business is ill defined. King Cuomo’s court issued a set of rules that allowed outdoor imbibing with the purchase of food, “which shall mean a diversified selection of food that is ordinarily consumed without the use of tableware and can be conveniently consumed, including but not limited to: cheese, fruits, vegetables, chocolates, breads, mustards and crackers.” While we were all getting a good laugh that “mustards” are a legally-defined thing, a wise-ass bar owner soon whipped up a batch of “Cuomo chips” to comply. Unsurprisingly, our Albany monarch was not amused.

Thus another magisterial edict came down with even newer, and not necessarily improved, language. As reported in the tabloids, “According to the new SLA guidance, a bag of chips or nuts does not meet the food requirement, but ‘sandwiches, soups or other foods, whether fresh, processed, precooked or frozen,’ do pass muster. ‘Other foods,’ according to the SLA, “are foods which are similar in quality and substance to sandwiches and soups; for example, salads, wings, or hotdogs would be of that quality and substance.’”

And so we are left to reflect upon these many, many words. This isn’t intended as comedy, but the joke is really on the suffering businesses and the patrons who just want to cool their thirst on a hot summer’s eve. So if you are out and about trying to grab a drink with friends, keep an eye out for the inspectors doing less-than-God’s-work checking on your social distancing and the edible selections with your beverage. Should they ask you anything, just give them a two-word answer, “You’re welcome.” Let them figure out what you really mean.

© 2020 Alexander W. Stephens, All Rights Reserved.