Word: dingbats
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That leads to a lovely shot of dingbat Peters wheeling down a dirt road, radio blasting, with funny money blowing out of the back of the car. She has one foot on the dashboard, and bubble-gum bubbles are popping out of her funny little rosebud mouth, right there in the middle of her funny big custard-pie face...
...cast of suspects, though mercifully limited, is boringly predictable and unimaginative. There's the mayor's money-hungry dingbat second wife Malvina, well-jiggled by Anita Morris, and her lover business manager Perry Kerch (Scott Wilson) who spends his time working out in the gym and supervising some of the late mayor's more unsavoury investments, including a dog track and a gambling house-cum-bordello...
...first 90 minutes of the show were a smooth arc of excitement and unapologetic razzle-dazzle: a lyric Try to Remember by Harry Belafonte, a monologue delivered at giddy white heat by Robin Williams ("What excitement backstage-everyone's standing around in little pools of Perrier"), a dingbat piano solo by Dudley Moore, and film clips of such stars as James Cagney, James Stewart and Bette Davis, who then showed up at center stage to greet one another and an S.R.O. audience of 6,000 who had paid from $25 to $1,000 for the privilege of waving back...
...admired, though John O'Connor of the New York Times may have more clout because of his proximity to Broadcast Row. The Shales style is a fast-paced blend of insight, humor and an almost possessive affection for the medium. He can write lovingly, as he did in "Dingbat's Demise," his column about the death of All in the Family's Edith Bunker: "Wife, mother, grandma, neighbor ... philosopher, cook, mender of socks, bringer of beers, keeper of the faith ... Edith, Edith, Edith, how could you ever up and die on us?" He can be outraged...
...rushed out and bought a pair, and while George was taking off his shoes, I crept up behind him (nude, of course) and gave him a loving bataca shot behind the right ear. As he got up off the floor, he shrieked, "Don't tell me that dingbat has written another book!" and ran right downstairs to our coffee table. He found it there, of course, and kept howling and slapping his thigh as he read your keen advice. Not even another bataca thump could make him stop laughing. He's just repressed. All the money...