JOAN RIVERS. American Comedian.
I didn’t know her but there she was, the burgeoning 50’s comic rubbing funny bones with Lucille Ball and Ethel Mertz, Phyllis Diller, Bob Hope and the boys, there she was my whole life. Full of shtick and noise and Brooklyn, risking every bit as much as Lenny Bruce.
This might be the summer the laughter died. We lost Robin Williams, now Joan, polar opposites ~~ buzz saw wits. Years back, Joan made a cottage industry of ridiculing Elizabeth Taylor when Taylor became a Virginia Senator’s wife, bored to tears and gained a ton. One Rivers’ joke was something about going to Sea World with Taylor, and they’re in the front row and Shabu the Whale does a leap. Taylor, says Rivers, couldn’t take her eyes off the whale and leaning over, whispers to Rivers, “Does that come with fries?” I can’t help it, I still think it’s hilarious. (And I love Taylor, miss her & all her excess).
The deadening damp of political correctness and the draconian, stupid Washington, DC have outlawed comedy and satire and fun, and miracles. I don’t see any fearless, critical observers of life in our midst replacing her. And boy, that’s one reason alone to miss that gutsy broad.
Peggy Noonan, who did know Joan Rivers, wrote a sterling tribute to her today on her WSJ blog. >>>(Noonan Tribute to Rivers, here)<<< Worth a read.
Goodbye and hasta la vista, baby. In her last book Rivers said for her funeral she wanted hoopla, Hollywood fanfare, and a windblower so her hair would look like Beyonce’s.
Joan, Can we talk? Ghost up the Senate, straighten out the middle east, save Israel, finish off ISIS, and tell Melissa to carry on. We’ll see it. We’ll know it’s you.