We're all bozos on this bus: the enduring legacy of The Firesign Theatre

Don’t crush that dwarf, hand me the pliers!

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That sounds like a Tramp administration policy.

Follow after me as we learn our next three words in Polish.

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You may remember her as… Audrey Farber?

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Susan Underhill?

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How about Betty Jo Bialowski?

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Betty Jo Bialowski! I hadn’t heard that name since college. Everyone knew her as Nancy. Then it all came rushing back to me like the hot kiss at the end of a wet fist. It was Pig Night at the Oh Mony Padme Sigma House. We had escaped from the crowd and stood trembling under the dwarf maples.

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I have NEVER seen a post about Firesign Theatre without people immediately adding their favorite clips in the comments. Gotta love that.

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Unlike Saul of Tarsus, who never quoted the savior he cited. But I digress.

Creepers, Mudhead!

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Back to the shadows again…

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Hey, you put on the nose, it grows!

Avoid eye contact. If there are no eyes, avoid ALL contact.

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I know now that everything I knew was wrong.

This group seemed to have come out just when I got my first motorcycle and started to smoke a lot of dope and do beginners psychedelics.
Thank you Gareth for a flood of memories.
Some of them mine.

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Susan…Underhill?

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I think my favorite is probably “The Giant Rat of Sumatra”, simply for the pun density.

“There’s nothing in here except this half-empty tin of Uncle Sigmund’s Peruvian Cocoa Powder.” And the decoding of the message. “A D is a B and a B is a P…”

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Someone beat you to it. What kind of chump do you take me for?

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No one delivers up here in the hills.

First class.

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First class!

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