Bob and Ray and Mr M and Me

Hello, blogees. I've been gone. Not physically gone. But I'm still sick.

Not only have I been limping along, sickly, but last night I had a full-blown relapse. Both my fever and sore throat returned in full force, and I spent most of the night sleeping in the Comfy Chair. And this was all smack in the middle of my round of hefty antibiotics. I'm giving Community Band a pass again tonight, and am considering trying the "burnout" method of getting rid of my germs tonight by downing a goodly portion of hard liquor.

So before that happens, I'd better blog.

You know, in the old Hucklebug podcast we have our weekly feature, Fuck Offs and You Rules. This is the portion of our show where we tell people/entities who've made us mad to Fuck Off, and people/entities who've made us happy that You Rule. And in last week's podcast I gave a hearty You Rule to Bob and Ray.

For the uninitiated, Bob and Ray are one (or two) Bob Elliot and Ray Goulding, radio comedy team of the 50s. Well, the 50s were their original decade of fame and fortune, they made something of a comeback in the 70s and 80s. I'd known about Bob and Ray forever but didn't know anything by them, didn't care to, really, until I met my best buddy and worst tormentor, Mr M. Mr M is an avid Bob and Ray fan, and was always telling me of their genius, and every time I mentioned a comedian or TV show that made me laugh, he'd counter, "You know where they got that bit? Bob and Ray." Frankly, I was getting a little sick of Bob and Ray.

One October evening several years ago the two of us were heading Up The Mountain to Oktoberfest. We were in podmobile I (RIP), which had a cassette player in it. And Mr M was beside himself because he'd found some of his old Bob and Ray cassettes, and he was going to force me to listen to them. And I'd decided that while he could force me to listen to those guys, he couldn't force me to like them. I made up my mind not to laugh.

And so we listened. And I must admit, there were definitely a few times I wanted to chuckle. But I gritted my teeth, looked at Mr M, and rolled my eyes instead. This was, however, until we were halfway Up The Mountain, and I heard the beginning notes of what has now become my favorite B & R skit of all time, "Lloyd Fletch and his All-Male Orchestra." ("Live from high atop the picturesque Skyline Room of the historic old Frimmler Hotel, overlooking Evansville, Indiana." "Join us here for late afternoon dancing every weekday, but not Saturday or Sunday, because those aren't weekdays.")

There comes a point in one's life from time to time where one has to give up, admit defeat, and giggle like a schoolgirl. That was my point, and I did all those things, and realized that Mr M was right, and there was nothing wrong in his discovering them first or my admitting he was right. He was right. Bob and Ray are funny. Once I realized that, life was a lot easier and I had much fun discovering the gems on those cassettes. And the CDs I took to supplying Mr M with for birthdays and Christmas. And stuff I found on iTunes and on the web.

The best way I can describe Bob and Ray is this: sheer, inspired silliness. Nothing to make you think, nothing edgy, nothing profane, nothing profound. Just a lot of silliness. And I'm a sucker for silliness. There are recurring skits and characters, like Wally Ballou, Webley Webster, and Biff Burns, and "Garish Summit," "Tippy the Wonder Dog," "Mary Backstayge, Noble Wife," and "Squad Car 119." ("He was convicted of leaving Los Angeles by a back road. Leaving Los Angeles by a back road is punishable by life imprisonment in the State Penitentiary.")

Their skits seldom go anywhere, come to any finite conclusion, and they're often filled with incredibly inane conversation that means nothing. ("I just swallowed a peanut the wrong way.") And while there's not much I despise more than a stand-up comic who laughs at his own jokes, listening to Bob and Ray getting tickled at themselves or each other is incredibly endearing, and I find myself laughing at that as hard as anything in whatever bit they might be doing.

Anyway, I'm now an unabashed Bob and Ray fan, and I have to admit that Mr M was right, not only about their being funny but also about, "You know where they got that? Bob and Ray." I'm convinced that every person bordering on funny for the past 40 years was influenced by Bob and Ray in some form or other. My TV Hero Keith Olbermann admits to it, and I don't know if Garrison Keillor does or not (he's not my Radio Hero, so I'm out of his loop), but he needs to, because he lifted the use of the name Natalie Attired right from Bob and Ray.

And back to that You Rule on the Hucklebug podcast. That You Rule came when it did simply because Mr M and I had been on a trip, and Bob and Ray is now required listening whenever we are in a car together. He can listen to my music, I can listen to his - for about 2 songs - but together, we can listen to Bob and Ray for an entire trip, be it 45 minutes or six hours. It's always fun to look over at each other to see who laughs at what. And it's also more fun to listen together, although I have to say that this past Thursday, the worst day of my strep throat, the day I was ordered home to bed by the doctor, I loaded up as much B & R as I could fit into an iPod, got under the covers, and laughed till tears were rolling down my face. They're even funnier when your tempertaure is 101! (Although, please, I'm not suggesting you induce a temperature of 101. Disclaimer, there.)

Mr M and I talk just about every night of our lives over Messenger, and sometimes I wish I could save every chat (I can, I know, but I never do), because we crack ourselves up and sometimes I think they'd make great blogs on those nights when I don't feel like writing anything down. Several weeks ago, though, I got to thinking about something. Our Messenger chats are basically Bob and Ray skits. Bet and M. From that thought, my brain meandered to the fact that our conversations are often Bob and Ray skit-like, and in fact, I think neither of us would disagree when I say that possibly 80% of our entire relationship is one long, continuous, neverending Bob and Ray sketch.

Over the weekend it hit me that I have evidence of this. It's from a blog I did a few years ago. When I was recording some blogs for my dad as I do each year (I did it once for him and he now demands a new set every Christmas), I made sure to grab Mr M and record this one. I still had it around, sitting in my iTunes. I thought you might like to hear Mr M and I being a Bob and Ray skit without even knowing it.

Enjoy.

So there you have it. I encourage everyone to discover Bob and Ray. And it's OK if you grit your teeth at first and pretend they're dumb. Sooner or later you'll hit that point, too, and give up and giggle like a schoolgirl. If you're having trouble, may I suggest "Lloyd Fletch and his All-Male Orchestra."

Betland's Olympic Update
* A howling congratulations to Uno, the first ever hound to win the Westminster Dog Show. A beagle, Uno is, and as charismatic a dog I'm not sure I've seen before. I squealed with delight at his victory, and I want to drive to New York, scoop him up, and bring him home with me. "Ahrrrrooooo," indeed.