NBC pays homage to Milton Berle, one of the worst comedians of the last forty years who passed away on the day this episode aired. Apparently, before most of us were even born, Milton Berle was "Mr. Television." Which sounds really cool until you put it in perspective: the guy was competing against freakin' test patterns, fer chrissakes. Once America wised up and realized that the guy was about as funny as a multiple murder case, he faded away, only appearing at the occasional Friar's Club roast and being known less for his role in television and more for his penis which, according to Hollywood legend, was enormous. The guy died at the age of ninety-three, and for some reason, the mental image of a gigantic ninety-three-year-old nut sack is giving me nightmares while I'm still awake.

Ed cranks up with Carol searching through the Stuckey Bowl, trying to find our recently coiffed hero. She finds him in the room behind the end of the alleys, fixing some bowling-pin thingie. She asks him if he'd like to accompany her and Molly to lunch at the Goat. Ed agrees to go, and asks if Jackass will be joining them. Carol says he won't; he's in Minnesota on a job interview. Ed asks if Carol thinks Jackass will get the job, and Carol says he's competing against twenty other people for the job. Ed asks if she ever calls him "Denny" rather than Jackass. She says no. He wants to know why. She has no answer. Her cell phone rings, and it's the Jackass calling from Minnesota. Ed starts mumbling, "Call him Denny, call him Denny, call him Denny." Carol tries to concentrate on the phone call, but Ed won't shut up. Finally, she says, "Bye....Denny," and cringes that the nickname actually fell out of her mouth. Ed bursts out laughing and she calls Ed an infant. That may be a disparaging nickname in Stuckeyville, but my seventeen-month-old boy has never objected to the name.

Opening credits begin. I instinctively rush to the bathroom to dry heave. Amazingly, a book of motel matches finds its way up my esophagus and into the toilet. I've gotta stop drinking tequila on these business trips.

Ooooo...the movie Panic Room opened today. Call me a heartless skeptic, but we're talking about Jodie Foster and a young girl hiding in a small room for two hours here. Maybe it's me, but the synopsis makes My Dinner With André sound positively riveting.

Back at the alley, Ed walks up to Phil and asks him what is missing from the Stuckey Bowl. Phil doesn't hesitate in replying that the alley lacks a giant water slide and wildlife. Ed says no: he means kids. Phil says that kids are overrated and that they're nothing more than small drunk adults, which takes me aback because I always thought that was the sentiment reserved for midget wrestlers. Ed says he wants to hire a clown on the weekends to attract the Stuckeyville kids. Phil groans and says that, every week, Ed comes up with a different wacky scheme to make money that never works; that made me snicker. Yet, Phil assures Ed that he will find a clown; "show business is in [Phil's] blood," because his cousin once dated Stone Phillips. I have a cousin who once gave André the Giant a handjob, but you don't see me riding his coattails to stardom.