Monday, June 16, 2014

Doris Day(s) #20: “Love Thy Neighbor” (03/04/69, prod. no #8506)

Well, after a three-week hiatus from Doris Day(s)—one could assume that I’m rarin’ to get back in the saddle and tackle another episode…but then my inability to keep a straight face would negate any sincerity expressed in that sentiment.  If there is a silver lining in all this, I fortify myself with the knowledge that I’m pretty close to finishing the first season of the sitcom, generally acknowledged by the show’s fans (optimism in the plural, yet) to be the weakest because they argue the rural setting never really suited Dodo; the subsequent seasons—particularly the ones in which she conveniently forgot she brought two kids into the world—are more in sync with her madcap single gal persona.

Because of the primitive VHS/DVD technology of the era, a lot of the continuity mistakes on this series were overlooked at the time (though you could also make a convincing case that most viewers didn’t give a rat’s ass) but a more glaring error could not be more noticeable than in the opening scenes of this week’s “Love Thy Neighbor,” in which the feeble plot is set in motion with Doris’ difficulties in starting up the family farm tractor (which she has nicknamed—and I only wish I were making this up—“Henrietta”).  The problem is that the tractor in “Neighbor”…

…is a completely different model than the one Dor was driving in “The Fly Boy”

So the first thing I asked when I saw this vehicle in “Neighbor” was “Why doesn’t she just use the tractor that runs?”  (Then I asked: “Why is a broken-down tractor only funny on Green Acres?”  Followed by: “Why am I not watching Green Acres instead of this tripe?”  But I digress.)  Since most of the action in the beginning is of a visual nature—Doris tries in vain to get the tractor to cooperate…plus there is a brief sequence in which she romps with Nelson the Stolen Sheepdog (Lord Nelson)—I can skip over to the hilarious dialogue exchanges, which begin after “Henrietta” has belched a substantial amount of black smoky tractor exhaust into Doris’ sweetly sunny face as her father Buck (Denver Pyle) and handyman Leroy B. Semple Simpson (James Hampton) arrive on the scene.

BUCK: Mornin’!
LEROY: Mornin’, Miz Martin!
BUCK: Howja get your face so dirty?
(Leroy starts laughing)
DORIS (gritting her teeth): How’d I get my face so…that stupid thing!  It won’t start again!
LEROY: Wouldn’t start yesterday, either…
BUCK: Well…at least it’s consistent…
DORIS: Boy, you really amaze me…doesn’t anything shake you up?

Not even seeing Bo and Luke jailed by Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane and Boss Hogg fazes ol’ Buckley, who chooses only to dwell on “the important things.”  “The alfalfa is going to rot in the field without a tractor,” Doris points out.  “Do you know that?”

LEROY: Maybe I better take a look at it…
BUCK: Now, Leroy…just stay away from my machinery…till I can figure out how you burned out the phone just puttin’ a new light bulb in the front porch…
LEROY: Yeah…that sure was a funny one, wasn’t it?

If you say so.

DORIS: Look…will you tell me something?  Is it money?  I mean, if it is…I have some money…
BUCK: Now just a minute, Doris…I’m not gonna use your money to buy equipment for my ranch…

Of course not.  Because if you did, that would end our torment early this week and we could go on with our lives, free to pursue a life of religious fulfillment.  Buck keeps assuring Doris that the tractor is NBD, that he’ll get a new one in a couple of months and that the current one works just fine.  “Sure—there’s plenty of miles left in this baby,” pipes up Leroy.  “All you have to know is how to handle ‘er.”  And he kicks the tire to demonstrate, resulting in this (which should have been accompanied by a Price is Right sound effect).

BUCK: You know what you are, boy?  You’re a nincompoop!

Look shamed, Leroy.  (“I’m warning you, Dobbs!”)  “Well, at least it’s consistent,” cracks Doris, giving out with her little coquettish laugh.  The scene then shifts to Doris in the living room, where she’s hunched over some ledgers…and her loyal housekeeper Juanita (Naomi Stevens) enters from the kitchen with a pot of tea and some cookies—I’m guessing leftovers from dinner, maybe.  Juanita—who endearingly calls Doris “Chiquita,” though that might be a dig at her yellow bathrobe—is concerned that the ranch is going bankrupt, and Doris assures her that everything is okay-fine.  I’ll skip over most of this only because the exchanges between Dor and Juanita can’t quite measure up to the sarcastic badinage of her former domestic, Aggie Thompson (Fran Ryan)—let me give you this as an example:

JUANITA:  I just want you to know something…listen, I’ve got a little money saved up—anytime you or your dad get in a bind…
DORIS: Thanks, sweetie…thank you…how much you got?
JUANITA: About 300 pesos…
DORIS: Yeah?  What’s that in American money?
JUANITA: Twenty-four dollars…
DORIS (laughing): Get out of here!

That was my reaction as well…but I think mine was directed more toward the revelation that they’re not paying that woman enough.  Either that or Juanita’s terrible with money (I mean, she lives with the family, which means she’s getting room and board—what is she spending the rest of her wages on?).  Juanita heads upstairs and tells Buck “good night” as he enters the living room.  Doris has decided that there needs to be a come-to-Jeebus meeting.

DORIS: Well, I’ve been going over your books…and if you’d collect a little money that’s owed you, you’d have some cash…
BUCK: Oh…they’ll pay when they get around to it…I don’t like to push ‘em…
DORIS: Well, you better start pushing somebody…or you’re gonna be pushing that tractor out there…do you know that Zeno Tugwell bought two horses from you six months ago and hasn’t paid you a dime?
BUCK: Oh, yeah…well, he’ll pay…he’ll pay when he gets around to it…
DORIS: Oh, and in the meantime…you’re ruining your health driving that pile of junk out there when you should have new equipment!

No more arguments, Buckaroo.  Doris has made out two lists, one for Buck and one for herself—the aforementioned Tugwell is on Doris’ list but Buck objects: “You better let me collect that one—that’s way back in the hills up there.”  Doris says no dice, Chicago—“you’re too easy.”

The next morning, Buck emerges from Webb Manor to start his collecting chores…and upon seeing his handyman in blackface (apparently Henrietta has belched a little exhaust on Leroy, too) he chortles appropriately.

LEROY: It ain’t that funny, Mr. Webb…

You serrit, kiddo.

BUCK (laughing): When are you gonna learn to keep your hands off my machinery?
LEROY: Well, that tractor’s dangerous
BUCK: It sure is…it’s a nincompoop eater…you stay away from it…
LEROY: Well, I was only tryin’ to help!
BUCK (chuckling): When are you gonna learn that your head and your hands are complete strangers when it comes to mechanical things?
LEROY (conspiratorially): It ain’t that so much, Mr. Webb…I’m beginnin’ to wonder if maybe that tractor ain’t possessed

I would just like to say—this show would improve a hundredfold if there were a possessed tractor on that place.  Heck, Green Acres could have milked that idea for all it’s worth!  (Haney: “Mis-ter Douglas…my ex-or-cism fee is normally fifteen dollers…but I’ll do it fer ten.”)  Well, since writer Sid Morse foolishly nixed the idea of demonic farm equipment, the scene shifts to Doris having a quick cuppa joe in the kitchen—Juanita offers to rustle up some breakfast, but Dodo vetoes the idea.  (That apple brown betty is just going to go to waste!)

JUANITA: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day…
DORIS: That’s my speech, Juanita…I give it to the boys twice a week…
JUANITA: Why don’t you listen when you give it?

“Hey—don’t worry if I’m a little late, hear?”  This will prophetically prove an unwise statement on Doris’ part as she runs out to the family jeep.  There is then some footage of her tooling around on the back roads of Cotina, which sort of made me snicker because in this particular scene…

…I expected to see Hawkeye and Trapper John shagging a few golf balls.  Honking her horn, Doris eventually arrives at the humble domicile of Zeno “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a horse today” Tugwell.  Note that the Tugwell house…

…looks remarkably similar to the humble home of Tyrone Lovey (Strother Martin)—Doris’ nemesis in “Love a Duck” and “The Clock”:

So it’s either the same house (perhaps Mr. Lovey sold it to Mr. Tugwell, then moved to a bigger city to concentrate on his burgeoning antiques bidness) or all of the homes in that area are prefabricated tar shacks (“Courtesy of Redneck Realty!”).  (It does not help, by the way, that Doris’ trip to the Tugwell compound is accompanied by banjo music on the soundtrack.)  Dor honks the horn again and then hops out of the jeep; she stops to pet a dog…and that’s when I got nervous, knowing how she acquired Nelson.  This week’s special guest emerges from the house to greet her.

J. Pat O’Malley, everyone!  Yes, one of Hollywood’s most beloved character actors takes on the role of deadbeat Zeno Tugwell this week—O’Malley has a resume longer than the line at the DMV; some of his familiar movie roles include Lassie Come Home, The Long, Hot Summer, Gunn, Star! and Willard.  He guested on tons of television programs and had recurring roles on such series as Johnny Staccato, Black Saddle, The Dick Van Dyke Show (as Rob’s dad), My Favorite Martian, Wendy and Me, A Touch of Grace and Maude.  But J. Pat is probably best remembered for his long association with Walt Disney: he voiced a number of characters in animated classics like Alice in Wonderland, One Hundred and One Dalmatians and The Jungle Book, and played the role of faithful valet Perkins in the Spin and Marty serials on The Mickey Mouse Club.

ZENO: Careful now…he don’t take to strangers…
DORIS (petting the dog): Aw, he’s a big baby…what’s his name?
ZENO: Melvin…


Doris introduces herself as Buck’s daughter, and ol’ Zeno is happier than a pig in slop.  “Well, I’ll be doggoned,” he exclaims.  “I hear tell ol’ Buck’s daughter was back—but I never expected to see such a pretty thing.”  (Take it a down a notch, you old reprobate.)  Doris modestly accepts Tuggie’s flattery, and then he introduces her to his idiot son Stonewall…who immediately takes to Doris and her ample feminine charms.

This is the first of three Doris Day Show appearances for actor Read Morgan, whose cinematic resume includes the likes of Ask Any Girl, The Beach Girls and the Monster, Easy Come, Easy Go, Marlowe and The New Centurions.  Morgan (occasionally billed as “Reed”) also did a lot of TV guest star work, but his most notable contribution to the small screen was playing Sergeant Hapgood Tasker (usually referred to as “Sarge”) in the second season of the Henry Fonda boob tube oater The Deputy.  (I’m on the record as saying that while I bore Morgan’s character no malice I personally preferred the first season of that series, which featured Wallace Ford as the town sheriff.)

Doris shuns the interest shown in her by Stonewall to get down to brass tacks.

DORIS: I wanted to talk to you about the horses that you bought from my father…
ZENO: Say…those sure are fine horses…ain’t they, Stonewall?
STONEWALL: Oh, yes sir…they mighty fine…
DORIS: Of course, I’m sure it slipped your mind…but…it seems you…um…haven’t paid for those horses…?
ZENO (snapping his fingers): Doggone!  Stonewall…I tole you to remind me to pay ol’ Buck for them animals!  (He hits him with his hat)
ZENO: I swear…I don’t know what’s happening to that boy’s mind…he can’t remember a thing…

I don’t want to say anything before all the facts are in…but I’m guessing hitting him in the head repeatedly might be a possible explanation.

DORIS: Well, as long as I’m here…if you want to give me the money…
ZENO: Well, now…it shames me to say this…but you caught me at a bad time…you see, we’re a little short of cash money…

“…the problem here is little brother, this morning, got his arm caught in the microwave, and grandmother dropped acid and she freaked out, and hijacked a school bus full of...penguins, so it's kind of a family crisis... so come back later?  Great!”  Doris explains to Zeno that “ol’ Buck” is having the same kind of money problems…so rub some dirt on it and walk it off.  Zeno then counters that if she had been by a week ago he could’ve helped her out when he had the funds: “But we spent every dime fixin’ this place up.”

Riiiiiiiight.  Doris doesn’t like being the hardass…but Zeno’s going to have to return the horses.  Excusing himself and Stonewall, Zeno plots some Grade-A sitcom shenanigans:

ZENO: Now you listen careful, boy…how’d you like to marry that gal?
STONEWALL: Do you mean it, Pa?
ZENO: Of course, I mean it!  You two get married, that means we get to keep the horses without payin’!

There are no words—that’s one hell of a dowry!  “Of course,” continues Zeno, “you’re gonna take a bit of gettin’ used to.  Well…all right…that’s what we’ll do…we’ll just keep her here until she gets usta you!”  (I love this plan—I’m excited to be a part of it.)

Zeno coaxes Doris into Tugwell Manor to discuss payment arrangements…but once inside, Tugwell won’t budge from a six-month payment plan.

DORIS: My father needs the money right now
ZENO: Now, huh?
ZENO: Say…here’s another thought—you try gettin’ a loan at the bank?  That ranch of Buck’s is mighty good collateral…

There’s a bit of racket outside, which causes Doris to jump out of her chair.  She asks Zeno what’s going on, but he plays dumb—in actuality, it’s Stonewall hitting the side of the cabin with a shovel.  Doris and Zeno’s negotiations have reached an impasse, and so she’s going to have to take possession of the horses—which is for the best, since she really needs to hurry home (it’s Bananas Foster night!).  So she goes outside…

Cue the sad trombone!  (And The Beverly Hillbillies stock music!)

DORIS: My wheels!  Look!  Where are my wheels?!!
ZENO: Well, I’ll be…
DORIS (glaring at him): Mr. Tug-well

“Talk about bad timin'.  If it was rainin' soup, old Doris' bowl would be upside down.”  Sorry about that—just getting in touch with my inner Waylon Jennings.  But let’s take a commercial break.

Back from hearing from Ralston-Purina, we find Zeno ladling some vittles out of a pot—probably something he watched on Food Network’s Down Home with the Clampetts or something.  Doris, it pains me to say, does not seem to be on board with this whole held-hostage thing.

ZENO: Somethin’ wrong with your sowbelly?
DORIS: I’m not hungry…

“Besides…I had sowbelly for lunch.”

ZENO: How’d you like me to whip up a mess of hog jowls and grits?

This might be an inopportune time to ask this…but whatever happened to Mrs. Tugwell?

DORIS: I’d like you to whip up four wheels so I can get out of here
ZENO: Yeah, I sure am sorry about that…that’s a terrible thing—stealin’ the wheels off a body’s vehicle…
DORIS: Of course…you have no idea who did it…?
ZENO: I tell ya…I got a theory…I figure there’s a gang of wheel thieves around here…and there’s no tellin’ when we’ll catch ‘em…

Zeno continues as Doris does one of her patented eye rolls.  (She does a lot of them in this particular installment, and I’m too lazy to count them all, there are that many.)  “’Cause your average wheel thief can be a pretty tricky devil...”

Doris is fuming.  “Mr. Tugwell, I do not intend to sit around here forever!”  “Well, of course not,” responds Zeno.  “Stonewall’s out lookin’ for those crooks right now.”

Jethro Stonewall enters the cabin to reveal that his exhaustive search has turned up nothing.  “You know what I think, Pa?” he asks his father.  “I think gypsies took ‘em.”

The senior Tugwell is in agreement: “Any time there are gypsies in the neighborhood, you better lock up your jeep wheels.”  Doris gets to her feet, madder than a wet you-know-what.  She’ll go out searching for the wheels herself, thank-you-very-much, and warns her gracious hosts that Buck has probably sent the sheriff out looking for her at this very moment.  (She neglects to mention that she told Juanita not to wait up for her…kind of a boneheaded decision in hindsight.)

“Now’s the time boy,” Zeno tells Abner Stonewall once Doris has slammed the front door.  “She’s all warmed up—so go get yourself all slicked up and start a-courtin’ her for all you’re worth!”

Doris wanders outside in search of the wheels for her ride as Zeno observes her from the shack window.  She eventually moseys out to the barn, and after digging around in some hay, makes her way up to the hayloft…

…Zeno has been following her, and at just the right time he turns her curiosity into a scene out of Two Thousand Maniacs

After Doris comes crashing to the floor of the barn, Stonewall Slopes Tugwell charges into the barn, having suitably “slicked hisself up.”

STONEWALL: Nice night, ain’t it?
DORIS (sputtering): What is going on around here?
STONEWALL: Would you like to see me throw a rock?
DORIS: No, I wouldn’t!  No, I wouldn’t!
STONEWALL: I reckon I’m about the best rock thrower in the county!

“And I can cipher, too!  Naught and naught equals naught…”  Stonewall then asks if he can “set down” beside Doris (“It’s your barn”) and having established a beachhead, proceeds to ravish America’s favorite movie sweetheart.  (I don’t have to tell you how disturbing this all is—Doris has wandered into a James Dickey novel.)  They wrestle in the hay and chase each other around Zeno’s still until the randy Stonewall backs Doris into a stall.

DORIS: Now wait a minute, Stonewall…now wait a minute…I’m very flattered that you want to court me…I really am…but…it won’t work…
DORIS: It won’t work!
STONEWALL (cackling): Yes, it will!  Of course it will, Miz Doris—all you gotta do is pucker up…and then I’ll pucker up…and purty soon, we’ll be kissin’…
DORIS: Oh, no!

Doris eludes his clutches, and runs over to the opposite end of the barn where she grabs a pitchfork and holds him off.

STONEWALL: Well, what’s the matter—don’tcha like me?
DORIS: Stonewall…I’m just not in the mood for courting!
STONEWALL (resignedly): Well…I reckon Pa’s right…
DORIS: Yeah?  About what?
STONEWALL: Well…ever since I was a little bit of a feller…Pa always said “Stonewall…when it comes to women, boy—you might just as well forget it.”

Well…this is kinda sad.  Stonewall may be a hillbilly rapist, but it’s mostly his father’s fault.  Doris sits down with him on a bale of hay and gives him a pep talk as only she can.  “Stonewall, you’ve got lots of fine qualities,” she assures him.  (Well, there is that rock throwing thing.)  She continues with the whole “live your own life” lecture, all the while conveniently forgetting that she could have hightailed it out of there hours ago by getting on the damn horses she was repossessing and riding bareback to the ranch.  (This bugged me from the moment she sat down to the sowbelly.)

STONEWALL: Doggone it, Miz Doris—you’re right
DORIS: Of course I am!

She is Doris Freaking Day, after all.

STONEWALL: That’s what I’ll do!
DORIS: Good!
STONEWALL: I’m gonna lead my own life and stand on my own two feet! 
DORIS: Good, Stonewall, good!  And you can start by helping me get out of here…now you get the wheels on my Jeep and I’ll…
STONEWALL: Ma’am, I can’t go touchin’ them Jeep wheels!  Why, Pa’d whup the pants off me!

Yeah, this maturity bidness is gonna take a little work.  The scene shifts to Zeno and Stonewall comically snoring like sleeping hillbillies as Doris tries to sneak out of the cabin.  I suspect the reason why Doris didn’t pursue the “escaping on horseback” idea earlier is because of the need to pad this out to twenty-five minutes.  There’s a bit of comic business with Melvin (Melvin?) the dog, who starts whining as Doris tries to get out the front door, and the scene then shifts to her in the barn as she attaches bridles to the equines while she has a conversation with Melvin (Melvin?).  (Clearly this kidnapping experience has left her a bit rattled.)

DORIS: They really thought they had us, didn’t they?  Melvin, old boy…Mr. Zeno Tugwell’s in for a big surprise…
ZENO (appearing from out of nowhere): You goin’ someplace, ma’am?
DORIS: You bet I am—I’m taking my horses and I’m going home!
ZENO: Well, now…I couldn’t let you go wander around in that dark all by yourself…wouldn’t be neighborly!

And then there’s a quick scene cut to Doris, sitting on a bed in another room of the shack.  I suspect there was some further business in the confrontation between Martin and Tugwell that might have been snipped for syndication purposes.  She hears a noise at the window, and looking over spots a sinister figure standing by same—when the individual attempts to invade me lady’s boudoir, she demonstrates a familiarity with Republic serials by crowning him with a balsa wood chair.  (“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Miz Doris…you’re gonna wake Pa…”)  It’s Stonewall the Manchild, who lets her know that he’s had a change of heart and has re-wheeled Dor’s jeep.

Doris thanks him for the kindness, but she’s still dead set on collecting those horses…and Stonewall will have no part of that meshugaas so he heads back to the house and pretends to be asleep.  I’m going to cut to the chase on this one…though I did want to share with you a screen captured explanation on why Stonewall has such trouble with them darn females…

…Doris ties the horses to the back of the jeep and is getting ready to haul ass—but Melvin (Melvin?) plants himself in the shotgun seat and refuses to budge.  “Melvin, now look,” she says to the dog at one point, “I’d like to take you home…I love you, too…”  Don’t think she’s not kidding about that, Melvin (Melvin?).  Oddly enough, Doris does admit to the dog “I can’t take you home with me,” fully knowing it’s never stopped her in the past.  But in pushing the dog out of the jeep, Doris hits the horn…which awakens Zeno, who files out of the shack, shotgun at the ready.  “You won’t git far on a busted tire!” he warns.

Stonewall saves the day by grabbing his dad’s gun and diverting the shot.  There is an implication here that in doing so, he has caused irreparable damage to the father-son relationship, with Zeno yelling “You and me’s gonna have a long talk, boy!”  And so, as Doris drives off, Zeno and Melvin (Melvin?) chase after her in a finale ripped out of a Sennett comedy.

Quick epilogue: Doris is polishing a brand spanking-new red tractor in the barn (how did they manage to purchase it if Zeno wouldn’t cough up the horse money?) when Stonewall strolls in, all smiles and handshakes.

STONEWALL: Well, I come to take back them horses you took…
DORIS: Uh…Stonewall…let’s not go through that again…

I second that emotion…once was enough.

STONEWALL: Oh no, ma’am…I got cash money this time… (He slaps his jeans)
DORIS: You’re kidding!

Yes, he’s kidding or yes, he’s got cash money?  Well, it doesn’t matter a great deal—the two of them are soon joined by Doris’ own little Stonewalls, her moronic sons Billy (Philip Brown) and Toby (Tod Starke).  I guess the writer had to shoehorn those little mooks in somewhere…although in later seasons it will be more like “Children?  I have no children…”

Upon seeing Stonewall, li’l Toby asks “Is he a giant, Mom?”—which sort of made me giggle because I got a mental picture of a sixty-foot tall Doris, rompin’ and stompin’ on downtown Cotina.  Doris explains to her kids that Stonewall is merely a glandular case, and brags about his countywide rock throwing prowess.  But Stonewall explains that his stone tossing days are over—it would appear the big lug now has a girlfriend.  “It’s a lot more fun than throwing rocks,” he says sheepishly.

I’ll bet he then sits down with the kids and the three of them eat an entire wheel of cheese.  Lord-a-mercy, this was painful.

Next time on Doris Day(s): Doris does the romance bit again with a guest-starring character veteran who’s best remembered here in the House of Yesteryear as Bonnie Franklin’s ex-husband on One Day at a Time.  Larry Mondello’s mother/Batman’s Aunt Harriet will also be on hand, as well an unacknowledged appearance from a character featured in a past episode.  It’s “The Con Man”—don’t miss it!


Anonymous said...

Get over yourself. You sure wasted a lot of your precious time on something you didn't like. It was the charming Doris Day, and that is what mattered. TV sitcoms were mostly silly in those days. Now they are silly plus obscene. I'll take silly. Green Acres? Really???

Ivan G Shreve Jr said...

Get over yourself. You sure wasted a lot of your precious time on something you didn't like. It was the charming Doris Day, and that is what mattered. TV sitcoms were mostly silly in those days.

I briefly considered not approving this comment because the individual taking me to task for the essay lacked the courage of his/her convictions to sign their name. Since TDOY doesn’t have a “no anonymous comments” policy, I went ahead and allowed this gutless entry to stand. (The anonymity of the Internets is a wonder.)

It sounds as if this is your first visit here, so let me clue you in on what Doris Day(s) is all about. It’s about poking fun at a sitcom from yesteryear. Not a silly sitcom, because I enjoy silly. The Doris Day Show is a bland sitcom. I mean, bland. You could dump several gallons of bottled McIlhenny into that baby and you’d still say, “You know, this could use something to give it a kick…”

Doris Day shouldn’t get a pass because she’s “charming.” Ferchrissake, her character loses both her kids in season four and she’s completely unfazed by this—even when someone asked her about this change in format years after the fact, all she could prattle on about was her damn dogs. If it bothers you that I like poking fun at this cluelessness, here’s a suggestion: get over yourself and stop reading the feature.

Green Acres? Really???

Yes, really. Green Acres may have been silly, but it sure as hell wasn’t bland.

Chris, a librarian said...

I do wonder what if Doris Day had continued to take roles like in The Man Who Knew Too Much (where she is very good). Or if she really had taken the Mrs. Robinson role as legend would have you believe she had the opportunity to. I heard her interviewed last year on NPR and she still displayed a tremdous amount of charm at almost 90.

Super Anonymous said...

I Googled 'The Doris Day Show' and I found someone who didn't love it unconditionally! My rights have been trampled! Thanks Obama!

There, now that I've left this SCATHING anonymous comment, this blogger has learned his lesson! I'll make sure to follow up on this because I care so much about HEY IS THAT SQUIRREL CHIRPING AT ME?

Stacia said...

though that might be a dig at her yellow bathrobe


I admit it, I also laughed right out loud at Stonewall's Duh Face.

This one may have been painful but it was a lot of fun to read, Iv.