There is nothing better for soothing a bruised inner child who just had a favorite player leave his baseball team (again) than a viewing of one of the movies that make up the five bedrocks of his lame sense of humor.
Jim Abrahams and David and Jerry Zucker, today you lifted my spirits in an orgy of bad puns and stupid sight gags. I thank you.
You obviously know of what movie I doth speak, so I’m not going to insult your intelligence by naming it. If you don’t know the other four, then I’ll give you a chance to guess. Then, surely, I’ll tell you.
And I won’t call you Shirley.