I saw the following comment on Twitter yesterday.

The tweet got a lot of support in response.  Y'know, the "You go, girl" kind of thing.  With "You never should be" and things like that.  I took my life in my hands by replying --

"It's my experience that most people who do, never are.

And then to protect myself, I added, "I'm not saying this critically or in support, just making an observation."

And honestly, I wasn't being critical, because I didn't know her definition of "sometimes" and "too much."  Talking too much on occasion can be because you're simply excited about a subject or just get carried away.  Or are bubbly and lively, and every once in a while it just spills out.  

And "too much" covers a wide swath.  Is it more than you generally feel comfortable talking?  Or more than makes others listening comfortable?  And is it for like an extra 30-seconds -- or a monologue so long that it would make Eugene O'Neill uncomfortable?

But sometimes talking too much is perfectly fine.

But --

It is also my experience that most people who say, "I sometimes talk too much," are saying that because they always talk far too much and have no filter.  (Most, I said.  Not everyone who does.  Life is full of exceptions.)  After all, if  you only talk a bit too much sometimes, most people don't feel a need to make an issue of it needing a full-blown, cover-all apology for how they speak.  Because there isn't a need to.  It doesn't require an apology.  Something that's occasional, brief, and over might might even be interesting of fun.  If that person feels that on that occasion they want to say, "Oops, sorry for going on so long," fine, it's personal choice.  Not necessary, but thought.  But it's in the moment, not something that calls for a bumper sticker.  It's only when it's your default way of speaking that you feel it's, oh, y'know, worth perhaps mentioning because people are always complaining.

Which brings us to what is the complaint part.

Always talking way too much is, of course, rude and thoughtless. You might be okay with it, because it's who you are -- but then, that's the point of being someone who always talks much too much.  If you weren't okay with it, you wouldn't do it.  But "who you are" is someone who likes to hear themselves talk all the time.  Because, to yourself, you're so incredibly interesting and funny and insightful and heartfelt.  And don't care what anyone else around you says.  Which is the point of "rude and thoughtless."  The other people there.  Other people who, even if they find you interesting, funny, insightful and heartfelt, still want to be part of the conversation and offer their own views.  Not everyone, some people are taciturn or shy about talking.  But in general, when talking with other people, most people like to talk.  That's the point of conversation.  As opposed to soliloquies.  

Always talking far too much is telling others -- "My thoughts are the most important and significantly more important than yours.  Your thoughts and time and interests don't really matter to me.  But mine do, And so, I'm going to talk too much -- and I'm not sorry."

​So, no, it wasn't shocking that Miss Amanda was not sorry.  Just that she proudly wanted to tell us that she talked to much, and wanted to be sure we knew.

By the way, to my surprise, I was not slammed by a stream of people in response to my reply to Amanda's comment. In fact, only one person even responded.

It was Amanda.  

She "Liked" it.

On this week’s ‘Not My Job’ segment of the socially-distanced NPR quiz show Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me!, the guest is actress Sarah Paulson.  When I check TV listings to see what guests are on the talk shows that night, there are very few actors or actresses who leap out so that I think, okay, I want to record this show to see them.  Sarah Paulson is one of the few I consider setting the DVR for.  She’s just well-spoken enough, self-effacing enough and funny enough.  Her interview with host Peter Sagal is no exception.  And happily, they actually are able to work in my two absolute-favorite impressions that she does, which are hilarious and wonderful, for two totally different reasons.  Also, stick around for the fade-out music they very end the segment with.  It’s perfect.

I like Rosalind Russell's work -- but I have some friends who are wild fans of hers, and while I'd say that they (and you, if you fall into that category) will have a joyful time with this most of all, what I'd also say is that even if you have no idea in the world who Rosalind Russell is, it's hard to imagine not laughing through her Mystery Guest appearance here on What's My Line?  ​It's among the funnier of the Mystery Guest segments I've posted.

This is from an early show, back in 1953, before she even made Auntie Mame and Gypsy, though she still was a big star already, with such movies as His Girl Friday, My Sister Eileen and Mourning Becomes Elektra.  The game takes a sharp turn when a question by panelist Dorothy Kilgallen goes off-track, and Rosalind Russell not only has great fun with it but decides to go all-in and play along.

By the way, at the very end in conversation with everyone, she mentions that she's in preparation for the Broadway musical Wonderful Town -- which she doesn't explain has a score by Leonard Bernstein and lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green.  But of further note is that the stage show is a musical version of the aforementioned My Sister Eileen that she had earlier starred in for Hollywood.

If you want to jump right to it, the segment comes along around the 16:30 mark.

For those who may have tried to watch the Kennedy Center Honors video I posted the other day of the tribute to Johnny Carson, there was a glitch.  But rather than post that partial video, I've ended up posting three videos of the full tribute.  You can find it here.

The Kennedy Center Honors are usually broadcast around this time, but they've been delayed until the Spring because this year they...oh, you can figure it out.

So, to fill in the gap at least part of the way, here is the 1993 tribute to Johnny Carson.  It's fairly low-key compared to most, but pretty funny.  Here it is, in three parts.  (The first video begins with the start of the broadcast.  The tribute itself begins around the 5:20 mark.)

Okay, so that part of Oscar Wilde's famous phrase which people quote is only half of what he says.  He goes on a bit longer than that and it's actually a put down.  The full line is 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness."  But given that this is Tom Hanks who is doing the impersonating, I think we can accept it here and just go with the "known part" of the quote.

It turns out that when Tom Hanks tells stories on talk shows, he likes to dive into character and bring the tales to life.  (Not all of these are celebrity impersonations, and some aren’t even impersonations, but he certainly does go all-in all the time.  As he does here, for 17 minutes.)  I was hoping this collection would include his joyful impersonation of Ron Howard, who he has worked with a lot – and, oh, yes, it does!

​On this week’s ‘Not My Job’ segment of the socially-distanced NPR quiz show Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me!, the guest is comedienne and actress Chelsea Peretti, best known for Brooklyn 99.  Her conversation with host Peter Sagal is about her comedy career, and honestly as much as she seems to push things to be funny and finds it all a hoot, I didn’t find it terribly amusing.  To me it was more snarky and self-reverential.

​Falling under the "Fest" part of the gala, this is a video I always enjoy for the season from the Conan show.  It's about his effort to come up with a Secret Santa gift for one of his staff members.  And as it's about getting a gift, this seems a good day for it.

Every year around this time, there are articles about which recorded version of A Christmas Carol is "the best."  Usually it comes down to the films that starred either Alistair Sim or Reginald Owen.

But for me, it's this one.  It's not a movie, though, or a TV production.  It's, of all things, an audio version that was done in 1960 for, I believe, the BBC.  It's quite wonderful and as good an adaptation of the story as I've come across.  It stars Sir Ralph Richardson as Scrooge, and Oscar-winner Paul Scofield as Dickens, the narrator.  Casts don't get much better than that.

I first heard this on radio station WFMT in Chicago which has been playing this every Christmas Eve for many decades.  Eventually, I found it on audio tape.  I've listened to it annually since I was a kidling.  Some years I think I won't listen to it this year, but put it on for a few minutes for tradition's sake -- but after the first sentence it sucks me in.

There are four reasons why, for me, this is far and away the best version. But one reason leaps out.

First, the acting is as good as it gets.  Scofield is crisp and emphatic as the narrator, and almost every creak of his voice draws you in to the world, and Richardson as Scrooge is a Christmas pudding joy.  Second, being radio, you aren't limited by budgets to create the Dickensian world.  Your imagination fills in every lush and poverty-stricken, nook and cranny -- and ghostly spirit, aided by moody sound effects and violins.  Third, the adaptation sticks  closely to the Dickens tale, and Scrooge comes across more a realistic, rounded-person than as a Mythic Icon.  

And fourth, and most of all by far, unlike any of the other version, this includes...Dickens.  While the story of A Christmas Carol is beloved, it's Dickens' writing that makes it even more vibrant than the story alone is.  And that's all lost in the movie versions, even down even to the legendary opening line, "Marley was dead, to begin with."  Or any of the other classic narrative lines.  (Like my favorite, when Scrooge first comes in contact with a ghost and was "as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.") Or the richness of Dickens setting the mood and tone and description of the gritty and ephemeral and emotional world.  All that's gone in movies, good as the productions may be.  But all of that is here in this radio adaptation, and Scofield's reading of it is joyously wonderful and memorable.  For many, this will be A Christmas Carol unlike any other you're aware of, giving it a meaning and richness you didn't realize was there.  The ending of the tale is so much more moving and joyful here, as we listen to Dickens' own words, that begin with "Scrooge was better than his word.  He did it all, and infinitely more," and it soars from there, to perhaps my favorite extended passage about the new Scrooge and how good he is in the "good old world. Or any other good old world."

If you have the time or inclination, do give it a listen.  If only for five minutes to at least get the flavor.  You might find yourself sticking around.  Let it play in the background, if you have other things to do.  It runs about 55 minutes.

(Side note:  speaking of Dickens, if you know the original cast album of Oliver!, the actor here who plays the Ghost of Christmas Present, Willoughby Goddard, was Mr. Bumble on Broadway and also in the original London production.)

Normally I would post this later in the evening -- but given the various time zones across the country, I thought that I'd get it embedded earlier to give as many listeners as possible the chance to hear it on Christmas Eve.

This might not play immediately, since it's a large file and may have to buffer first.  But be patient, it's worth it.​

“I’m counting the hours until he’s gone…I plan to pull him out by his hair, his little hands and his feet.”
-- Speaker Nancy Pelosi, on Trump

It wasn't the bluntness of Speaker Pelosi's comment towards a lame duck president that stood out to me yesterday -- and her counting the hours, not the days which requires a calendar rather than a ticking watch -- it was her use of "little hands."  As is well-known by now, Trump is deeply sensitive whenever the small size of his hands is ever referenced, seeing it as a reflection on what that purportedly means about the size of another of his important male body parts.

By the way, the origin of that sensitivity goes back to January, 1998, when Graydon Carter, co-founder of the bitingly satirical Spy magazine out of New York, wrote an article that described Trump as a “short-fingered vulgarian.” It upset Trump so much that for many years he would send photos of himself, generally torn out of magazines, to Carter with his hands circled in gold Sharpie and a personally-written comment to the side, "See, not so short!"  In a 2015 article in Vanity Fair (where he was then the editor), Carter said that the most recent mailing had come earlier that year and added, "I sent the picture back by return mail with a note attached, saying, 'Actually, quite short.' Which I can only assume gave him fits."

The knowledge of that sensitivity -- and the reality that he still would respond to it, even in public -- it a high point in the GOP presidential primaries that same 2015 when Marco Rubio made a reference to it, saying, "I don't understand why his hands are the size of someone who is 5-foot-2,  And you know what they say about men with small hands? You can't trust them." That, of course, is not what they say about men with small hands, unless they are trying to clean it up for public consumption, and Trump knew that well.  And so, with all the insecurity that the country has come to know, he responded in defense of his hands a week later during an actual presidential debate.  "Look at those hands, are they small hands?” he said, holding them up for the world to see, despite being the front-runner as Republican nominee for president of the United States. “And, he referred to my hands – ‘if they’re small, something else must be small.' I guarantee you there’s no problem. I guarantee."  Never mind that Rubio didn't say that, Trump knew what was meant, and so he brought the presidential conversation down into the scatological gutter.  For all I know, it's where the origin of his "Little Marco" insult came from.

And Nancy Pelosi most-certainly knew all this.  So, not only did she bluntly tell Trump off, she knowingly insulted his manhood.  And of course, it wasn't an insult of his manhood from just anyone, but from a woman.  And not just any woman, but an 80-year-old woman who was insulting his manhood.  And not just any 80-year-old woman, but the most powerful woman in the United States. 

And on top of insulting his manhood, saying she planned to throw him out.

Oh, and the "by his hair" wasn't too shabby as far as insults go, either, especially when dealing with a man famous for his elaborate comb-over.

But what perhaps leaped out the most was the response from Republicans in Congress. And that response was -- silence. No outrage, no cries of how unbecoming it was for the Speaker of the House -- and not just any Speaker, but the hated Nancy Pelosi, who Republicans have been fundraising off of for years, indeed decades.  Just... silence.  Forget the sly insults, just simply saying she planned to throw him out would normally be enough to send Republicans into apoplexy.  And not even because it's Nancy Pelosi or a generic Speaker of the House, but have we ever heard any politician be so blunt about getting rid of an outgoing president??  And as far as I can tell, there wasn't a word of complaint from any Republican.

I don't think that's necessarily because they didn't want to defend Trump -- they clearly have no trouble with that, even now, as many continue Trump's assault on democracy.  The best I can figure is that even they are just weary by it all and heard Speaker Pelosi's response as the natural reaction to Trump Mania.

And in the end, that's what you get when your party leader is a short-fingered vulgarian.