A Modern Bard’s List of Unfamiliar Quotations

It has been said, by me among others, that analysis of humor rarely produces any.

Responses to my recent observations about humor and mythical remarks (“Play it again, Sam”) tend to bear that out. Jokes should not be dissected.

Still, perhaps we ought to reflect on Frances Russell’s complaint that she doesn’t like “slipping on a banana peel” as an example of humor.

“I don’t happen to think that it’s funny to see anyone slip on a banana peel!” she says. “That’s too much of a potential injury. It’s mean to laugh at someone getting hurt and is about as funny as most ‘practical’ jokes.”

I agree that seeing someone hurt is not funny. But surely “slipping on a banana peel” is not meant literally. It is only a metaphor for a pompous person’s sudden loss of dignity.

As James Thurber said, organic illness is not funny, but an accident is. I’m sure he did not mean serious accidents, but minor ones, like spilling one’s drink on the boss’ wife’s new dress--something I once did. She was not amused.

It was Thurber, by the way, who showed how far humor may go in his cartoon of the two duelists, one of whom has just sliced the other’s head off. The caption is, “Touche!”

That Samuel Goldwyn was not the author of the numerous malapropisms and syntactical blunders attributed to him is attested to by Harry Friedman, a veteran Hollywood publicist.

“At least a typewritten page filled with them were created by his nimble-witted publicist, Jock Lawrence,” Friedman says. “Jock . . . later became Gen. Eisenhower’s public relations officer when Ike was in England preparing for D-Day.”

Ike must have restrained Jock. Otherwise our histories of those times might be loaded with such Eisenhowerisms as “D-Day will be June 6. Don’t miss it if you can.”

By the way, I once interviewed Goldwyn after his lawyer had exacted my promise not to quote any Goldwynisms. It was like writing about Mae West without mentioning sex.

Robert S. Morton of San Marino wonders why he laughs at a dialogue, perhaps apocryphal, between a reporter and Henry Kissinger.

Reporter: I heard that you said you were smarter than God.

Kissinger: I never said that.

Reporter: What did you say?

Kissinger: I said that I felt I was smarter than God was when he was my age.

I think that’s funny because, while we have always suspected Kissinger of having a large ego, we are surprised by his making fun of it.

It is true that many quotations that have become a part of our cultural heritage are misquotations. Alton S. Safford points out, for example, that Dorothy Parker did not say, “Men never make passes at girls who wear glasses.” What she said was, “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.”

He also notes that the Bible does not say, “Money is the root of all evil.” It says, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Actually, I think the popular misquotation is leaner and sharper. Popular usage often improves quotations. The Bible could have been much improved by a good editor.

Another example: Safford notes that the Bible does not say, “Pride goeth before a fall.” It says, “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

The original version is doubly redundant, since “pride” and “a haughty spirit” are virtually the same, and “a fall” is a simple synonym for “destruction.” The “fall” that pride goeth before is simply that old banana peel.

That Scripture is not inviolate has been demonstrated amply by its numerous revisions.

Mary Peate of Westlake Village sends a clipping from the Montreal Gazette of Jan. 27, 1943, amending a quote that is known to every schoolchild, or used to be.

It quotes George Welsh, then 95 and the last survivor of the African expedition led by reporter Henry Stanley in search of Dr. David Livingstone. Welsh said that, when the two finally met, Stanley did not say, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” What he said was, “Dr. Livingstone, I believe?”

Perhaps, if quotations have endured and found their place in our mythology, they ought not to be altered simply in the name of accuracy.

What if we found that what Douglas MacArthur really said, when he left Luzon, was not, “I shall return,” but, “See ya later, alligator”?