I have been asked by a few people what were my favorite jokes written with/for Garry. There are a bunch that I love, but I think my favorites are my first, and my last. The first was from our very first writing session, in March of 1980. 1/ twitter.com/i/moments/9733…
It was what he and I referred to for decades as "the cow joke." Because literally 10 times a year, he would "joke" argue with me about who really "wrote" it. (Now that he's no longer here, I can say, officially, that it was, in fact, GARRY who made it funny.) 2/
All I did was provide the premise. It was "You ever notice how when people drive down the street and see a cow on the side of the road, they roll down the window and go 'moo,' like they think the COW is thinking 'Hey, there's a cow driving that car.'" 3/
And then Garry proceeded to add a series of tags, all of which were the big laughs on the joke. "How can he afford that? He's driving a Merceds, I'm out here eating grass.." etc. etc. He did it on his first Carson set - which was one of the highlights of my joke writing life. 4/
Why this is particularly poignant to me is that the last time I saw him was in a restaurant in Santa Monica a few months before he died. And the truth is, I hand't actually spent time with him in a few years. (He was not always the best at, say, following up on phone calls). 5/
And so when I saw him there (he didn't see me) I said to the waiter: "Do me a favor, go up to that guy there and tap him on the shoulder, and tell him you're a gigantic fan of the FIRST HALF of the cow joke." And he did. Garry laughed and turned around, and he came over. 6/
We talked for a long time. And it was sad. Because he was kind of spinning. Trying to connect. He wasn't as clear as he'd always been, and he we talked about getting together. But - as had been the case with all the other times we'd talked about getting together.. 7/
He couldn't commit to setting a time. We laughed about the fact that he couldn't commit to anything. Then he said "Actually that's not true - I DO in fact commit to things." He paused, then added: "Maybe you're right." I said "You can't even commit to whether you can commit." 8/
He just looked at me and nodded, without laughing, and said "That's very funny." And that was the last thing he ever said to me. Damn. I just realized that THAT was the last thing he'd ever said. So that leads me to the last joke I ever wrote with him. It was 2003 or so. 9/
We were in his kitchen. He was complaining that his friends all told him he had a problem with intimacy. I said "Yeah, but they don't really know you." And he looked at me. And then, while nodding and stroking his chin, said very seriously: "I'm laughing real hard right now." 10/
But that one felt to me like the best joke I ever wrote for him. Maybe it's even the best joke I ever wrote. Mostly cause it really captured him. That nod meant everything to me. That nod. Damn. That nod. 11/11
