Hoist him on your shoulders and carry him around the town, will you?

I'm speaking, of course, of Paul F. Tompkins, whose brilliance only continues to amaze, delight, and defy me. His show tonight was especially wonderful, and he embarrassed me, as he often does when I'm sitting in the front. But I got some balled-up paper to take home as a souvenir. So, all's well. Truly.

He made some timely comments about the passing of Bob Hope and the sort of getting-carried-away of saying he provided the world with one hundred years of laughter. He applauded Mr. Hope for providing the world with, say, fifty years of laughter and "twenty-five years of terrifying, bloody red eyeballs." I was engulfed in whelps of laughter. I know some people don't like to make jokes about sad subjects that are fresh and tender, but I admire those who do. I have always said there is no line. And I stick to it.

He also performed Folsom Prison Blues with the Watkins Family and made my favorite Johnny Cash song even more favoritey to me. If anyone can push the limits of a superlative, it's Paul F. Tompkins. He's really too wonderful to be spoken of in mere mortal terms.

But enough of my gush.

I want to drink cool water until it comes trickling out my ears. And it's not just because of the momentary rainstorm we had.