of critical thinking

"The function of my comedy is not to provide answers, but to postulate questions and therefore, finally, pertinent questions. Not to open doors, merely to unlock them. Not to invade the boundaries of probability but stand a cool guard this side of the boundaries. Somewhere between there's a thesis. To pump up the muscle of dialectic (or in my case Di-Eclectic!) against the brawn of surrealistic solution. I play not Hamlet, but the second gravedigger, not Lear but the fool."
Marty Feldman, in eyE Marty

GOD: A SKETCH IDEA

Subject: Good evening.

God: You're welcome, my son.

S: I beg your pardon?

G: You said, 'Good evening,' and I said, 'You're welcome.' I do the best I can.

S: Excuse me – you're God?

G: Bloody right, my son, the Holy Gaffer Himself. What's the matter with you, my son?

S: Nothing, it's just that…

G: Spit it out, mate. I can't liege around here indefinably, you know. My eyE is on flaming sparrow, my son. Do you realize I got to keep my minces peeled on a billion five hundred and thirty-three sparrows? Even they come in a hundred and fifty-odd varieties, that's not to mention all the hippos, badgers, parrots, water voles, et cetera, et cetera, what I created in my infinite wisdom and all. What's on your mind, son?

S: Nothing, it's just that I expected God to be something like… well, you know, like the illustrations in the Bible.

G: You expect me to go pouncing around with whiskers and a white frock, then? You think I'm hippie pooftah, mate?

S: No, it's just…

G: Only you don't want to get leery, son. I could smite you, if I so chose. I could give you a right smiting, son, plague of bleeding locusts… frogs and whatnots… In my infinite wisdom I could smite you with leprosy… so watch it.

S: No, it's just I imagined God would be…

G: More upper class, then? Well, I'm a working-class God, my son, built the bloody world in six days, I did, hand-built and all, put in every star with my own hands, craftsmanship. You don't get that kind of work these days… Now, be on your way before whatnots show up, my son.

Marty Feldman, in eyE Marty

FOREVER

Going through life snapping at each new NOW,
Making good memories when we get old,
Wanting to make sure it is well stocked for looking back,
There today, here tomorrow each new father his son told

Living is an ephemeral art,
To die should be our sole adventure,
For life is as brief as a buck fly's fart
But death is something we have forever.

Marty Feldman

On getting up

"I later became a boxer in a very amateurish way and was actually awarded a prize for being the best loser. This became the story of my life. I won best loser not because of good sportsmanship, having been beaten, but because I kept getting up off the canvas, knowing that I was going to get knocked down again. They seemed to respond to and like this spirit. In one particular fight I fell down three times, and may have been knocked out three times, yet still kept getting up. My nose became a rubber ball, having been broken a few times. This started the process of defining my comic face so at least I got something out of it. I suppose it taught me I have staying power. I should've stayed down but, in some deluded way, I always thought my opponent would get tired or give up. Eventually the kids of Luton stopped beating me up. I'm still the best loser and still get up when I should have enough sense to lie down and stay there."
Marty Feldman, in "eyE Marty

On being the best

"l thought if I were to pick up an alto sax that, within an hour or so, I would be able to play like Charlie Parker, so I will never pick one up, and this will always have potential. This thing inhibits me from walking on a tightrope: as long as I never do it I might be the best in the world."
[Marty Feldman, in "eyE Marty"]