And mostly they don’t come out. Big mystery. My job is to save up on encomiums. Not the time to time to admit I never thought he was specially funny.

But I have a big pile of encomiums.

Which will work wonders while the world is ending. One example: Old breasts are like new in my experience. Regardless of what the plastic surgery shows say. Just saying.

If you need your breasts held, email me in the comments. I can arrange it.

UPDATE. Had no idea that Robin Williams would take over the mass media this morning. Missed the gigantic import of his passing. Sorry to all of you who are weeping, gnashing your teeth and rending your garments in grief. Permit me to share my somewhat jaundiced perspective.

He had an artistic temperament. Depression and mind-altering substances are almost automatic accompaniments in such people. Talking about mental health issues on the occasion of his death seems, to me, irrelevant and self-indulgent on the part of the untalented. There’s a price for being creative. He made it all the way to 63. A good run. Far longer than John Belushi, John Candy, and Chris Farley. But they were funnier than Robin Williams. Is that the algebra of comedy?

I don’t mean to be insensitive. If I should outlive Bill Murray, I know I’ll be moved to a state akin to grief. In the meantime, I will pay my homage to Williams for this. To my mind his funniest routine.

And I’ll offer a Scottish salute to the man. He had lots of energy and poured it into his life, despite all the inevitable pratfalls, until he used it all up. And that’s when you take your final pratfall. His got noticed. Well done.