Gilda, settle a bet. My wife, Kevin, says that you start off the show by saying "Give me all your hot monkey love", I say she is wrong. Well, Kevin, your wife is wrong, because no matter what the beginning, we always start the show by saying: Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!!!!
Here with an editorial reply is Miss Emily Lattella.
What's all this fuss I keep hearing about violins on television? Why don't parents want their kids to see violins on television? I thought the Leonardo Bernstein concerts were just lovely, now, if they only show violins on television after ten o'clock at night, the little babies will all be asleep and they won't learn any music appreciation. They'll learn to play guitars, and bongo drums and go to Africa and join these rock'n roll outfits and they won't drink milk! I think there should be more violins on television and less game shows, it's terrible the way...
Um, Littella, that's Violence on television. Not violins.
Oh, well that's diffrent. Never mind!
This past Thursday was the great American Smoke Out, a day that everyone in America was encouraged to stop smoking cigarettes for a 24 hour period. Here to comment further is Update Health correspondant, Roseanne Rosannadanna.
Thanks, alot, Jane. A guy from Forlayden, New Jersey writes in and says, "Dear Roseanne Rosannadanna, Last Thursday I quit smoking. Now I'm depressed, my face broke out, I'm nauseas, I'm constipated, my cheeks swell, my gums are bleeding, my sinuses are clogged, I got heart burn, and I got gas. What should I do?"
Well, you sound like a real attractive guy. You belong in New Jersey. But I know exactly what you're going through, cause once, I, Roseanne Rosannadanna quit smoking. To get back in shape, I had to join one of those fancy shmancy health clubs. You know, the ones where it's really expensive to join but it's worth it because you get to see alot of people that you don't know naked. Like some people got them bulgy, bulgy thighs, the ones that get chafed just 'cause they're always scraping together. And there's other people there that got them funny bellybuttons. Like some go in, and some go out, some are like a ball, or curl around, or it's like a little knob on it like a door. Some people even got little pieces of their sweater still in it. Some of them even look like a little shell or a clam or something you don't know what they are. But personally, I, Roseanne Rosanndanna, don't like to walk around with no clothes on in front of other people. Not that I don't have a great body, but why should I waste it on a bunch of fat ladies in a health club? Anyway, they got this thing there that's a little room that's hot inside and you go in there to sweat like a pig. So I go in there, but before I sit down, I put this clean towel on the bench 'cause there's alot of people been there and you don't know where they been. But who do you think is sitting next to me but Dr. Joyce Brothers. That very smart pixie lady who thinks she knows everything. But what this nude psycologist didn't know was that she had this little, teeny, tiny ball of sweat right here, hanging off the tip of her nose. It was just hanging there! It wouldn't fall off! Like if she turned her head, it wouldn't fall off. If she stood up it didn't fall off, if she stretched it wouldn't come off, and when she picked little pieces of her sweater out of her bellybutton it wouldn't fall off. That little sweat ball just wouldn't fall off. So I yelled at her, I said, "Hey, Doctor! Flick that sweat ball off your nose! What are you trying to do, make me sick?"
Excuse me, what do health clubs, sweat, and steam baths have to do with cigarettes?
Well, Jane, it just goes to show you. It's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. Either you smoke or you have a sweat ball hanging off your nose. It's just like a song we used to sing on Thanksgiving when I was a little girl. Everybody would come over to my house all dressed up pretty and everything, and my mother would make the turkey with stuffing and for dessert, we'd have the traditional Banana Rosannadanna cake. Before we ate, we'd bow our heads, bow your head, Jane, come on, bow your head. Bow it. BOW YOUR HEAD!! And we'd all sing: 'We gather together to ask the lord's blessing. Please love down upon the Rosannadanna folks. Bring peace to our fathers, good health to our mothers, and please don't make me sweat like Dr. Joyce Brothers.'