Radio, which was a much better medium than television will ever be, was easy and pleasant to listen to. Your mind filled automatically with images.

Coming up through the ranks of any calling can be rough, but that battered soul who survives the early years of courting the comic muse comes close to knowing what only the soldier knows: What combat is like.

When I was a kid in Nebraska, a cantankerous farmer, known for plinking with his '22 at passing cars in which he perceived enemies, ingeniously rigged up a shotgun in his house, trained on the inside of his front door so as to widely distribute any intruder.

I'm not the guy with the enormous comedy nose or the big feet or the bad posture or the whatever; a physical comic has certain things.

William F. Buckley was a man who had a great capacity for fun and for amusing himself by amazing others.

While other kids were out playing and doing healthy things, I read an ancient judo book with a neck hold that was fatal to so many people they finally dropped it from judo.

I'm not freakishly short. I had, on my show, used shortness as a joke subject; it didn't really bother me.