Nipped in the bud, but not forgotten.
Feb 26 '06
The Bottom Line Flesh may be mortal, but laughter is eternal. Or at least really long-lasting. Or maybe transient. Could be temporary and fleeting, I suppose. But it's good, definitely good.
Events of historical significance have a way of freezing time in the minds of those who witness and recognize said significance. Ask someone in the Baby Boomer generation where they were when Kennedy was shot, or when Neal Armstrong first stepped on the moon’s surface, or when Nixon boarded that chopper -- equipped only with a double peace sign and an ample supply of false bravado -- to ferry him off to a world of shame (aka San Clemente), and most of them will be able to tell you, in vivid detail, exactly where they were, what they were doing, who they were with, etc.
Later generations possess the same recall for more recent events -- when John Lennon was killed, when the Challenger exploded, when crazed virgin-craving zealots mowed down the Twin Towers.
We may not have personal involvement with the events. We may not know any of the people involved. These things that happen in some faraway place usually do not even have any direct, personal impact on our day-to-day lives. But there is an emotional impact. There is that supercharged thump to the stomach closely followed by an instant realization -- “Wow, everything’s different now. The world has changed.”
And one of those moments just happened. So I ask you: Where were you the day that Don Knotts died?
I may be playing a little fast and loose with the concept of “historical significance”, but when it comes to personal significance? Yeah, the man rates. He spent his life making people laugh. That’s kind of noble, sort of cool. Also on a personal level, he has likely brought me more laughs than any other stranger that I know only from witnessing what he chooses to reveal from a television or movie screen.
Laughter is something therapeutic, it does something good for you. It sort of cleanses the mind of whatever mental toxins are polluting your head, especially a deranged (and oddly shaped) head like mine. That’s a good thing (the cleansing, not the derangement and odd-shapedness.)
Don Knotts had a penchant for creating and breathing life into characters just filled to the brim with personal flaws and f’d up character traits, yet just below the surface was an inherent goodness and affability that forced you to like him in spite of everything else you’d seen. If Don Knotts were a chick, he would have been the proverbial hooker with a heart of gold. And he would have had really big tits. Well, I don’t know that for sure, but I don’t feel right about writing more than 500 words or so without at least one gratuitous mention of bodacious mammaries.
He was one of those rare individuals you could laugh at and laugh with at the same time. And I’ve done my share of laughing at him. Yes, I’ve encouraged people to throw live chickens at his face. Yes, I’ve created in my mind a sordid, deviant, alternate reality Mayberry where Deputy Fife does untoward things with Aunt Bee and her award-winning pickles. Yes, I may have even opined in passing that it is easier for a garter snake to swallow a muskrat than it is for a woman to view skinny, little, bug-eyed Don Knotts as an object of desire. But, c’mon. Who hasn’t had those exact same thoughts?
When the rubber hits the road, I really appreciate Don Knotts. I have affection for him. And not the unseemly, wacky fanboy affection like Nate Atcheson holds for Bob Hoskins. But more a healthy, manly affection such as that shared by Erik Estrada and Larry Wilcox on the sprawling asphalt of southern California. Only less homosexual. Or maybe more. Who is one to say?
Don Knotts provided diversion, provided entertainment, provided something wholesome and good. Don Knotts has made my life a little better.
So I owe him.
Thank you, DK. Thank you for a whole lot of laughs. Thank you for Luther Heggs -- attaboy, Luther! Thank you for Abner Peacock. Thank you for making Mayberry such a great place -- sort of like Utopia, only with a better barber. Thank you for nervous energy and impossible facial contortions. Thank you for showing that Bull-Moose clown, Teddy Roosevelt, that you need not speak softly and carry a big stick, but should instead stutter a lot and carry one bullet in your shirt pocket. Thank you for letting me poke fun at you without turning around and bashing me in the face with a shovel. Thank you for reluctant astronauts and Nazi-hunting cartoon fish. Thank you for a life spent making people like me laugh.
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Epinions.com ID:
Sordid-1
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Member: Jeffy
Reviews written: 62
Trusted by: 418 members
About Me:
You wouldn't notice a muddy elephant in the snow, would ya?
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