Good morning, the

the- I don't have the heart.

I heard that bit so many times in 1987 that I could never in good conscience add one more rendition of it to the world.

Robin Williams, God bless him, really more than any other comedian had a way of coming up with bits that

you really hoped you'd never have to hear again, but that every Harbor Freight authorized

McKita salesperson and cold storage forklift shift leader wanted to repeat at the top of their lungs until they'd wrung every last ashy half laugh from them at the expense of everyone else's sanity.

Can you imagine choosing to shout your catchphrase at the top of your

lungs? Like, why would you do that to yourself? Here's the thing about microphones. They were

invented so you didn't need to shout.

You could whisper your catchphrase into a microphone and the radio compression would actually

make it louder than if you shouted.

Shouting into a microphone is like getting off your bike to walk it down the hill.

1987 was absolute peak boomer oninism,

the whole messy clog of that generation hitting their 40s, dripping clapped in

LPs and wayfares all over the nice furniture and ready for a fresh re-evaluation of the Vietnam

War to make it seem like maybe it had always been kind of

cocaine-y and fun and ballsy instead of being a major drag that just kept

being more of a drag the further away from me you got. Platoon, Full Metal Jacket Hill all came out within a year's time,

and while all of them wanted to refite Vietnam

to try to make sense of it, none of them

seem interested in winning the war with dramedy laugh tears.

Well, it was worth trying.

...