Foster Brooks Doesn't Shave

Friday would have been the 95th birthday of Foster Brooks, and just thinking about it makes me feel a lit bight-headed (hiccup). Brooks had one of the great careers in Hollywood, managing to turn his own battles with the bottle into a schtick that clicked; of course Deano probably kept him around as his antics made Martin always seem sober by comparison. (I don't know about you, but way back when I was single I always tried to stand next to the ugliest person I could find. Indeed, one night in a bar I thought I'd accomplished this particularly well until I realized I sat myself next to a mirror.)(Look, this is an entry about Foster Brooks--did you really expect any jokes not old enough to have been stolen by Jack Benny once?) Ah, for the days of yore and mine, when mothers weren't mad and one could laugh about Alcoholics Unanimous. You know, when we found our souses charming. Indeed, to help usher back the golden days of tipplers and the nighclub auidences who loved them, I'm working on a pilot for American Alco-Idol. Imagine the excitement as a stellar panel judges the slurs, trips, and gaffes of the best drunks in the country. Who will be the William Hung-over of the outtakes show? How great will it be that all the show's Glugmates won't have to ache with anticipation for their faves to come out of the closet? But making an American Alco-Idol From Justin to Kelly...that's just fucked up.

Here's a You Tube of Our Mr. Brooks discussing his 60th birthday.