Her laugh is as legendary as her one-liners. A cross between Burgess Meredith as the Penguin and Sesame Street's Count, Phyllis Diller's signature cackle cracks up anyone within earshot. Unfortunately, it's impossible to hear (or even spell) in print, which is one of the many reasons why you should see Goodnight, We Love You, a loving and revealing documentary about the groundbreaking comedian that arrives on DVD today. In between riotous clips from her 2002 farewell concert, Diller offers an unprecedented peek at her private life and her outrageous wardrobe. TVGuide.com joked with the octogenarian stand-up about her five decades in showbiz, her plastic surgery and her ill-fated Playboy spread.
TVGuide.com: Hello, Ms. Diller? Phyllis Diller: Hello, Raven? Oh, you're a lady! [Laughs.] I heard your name and figured you would be a man.
First off, since all you loyal readers were so helpful last week in trying to figure out what Walt said — either "Don't push the button, the button is bad" or "Push the button, no button is bad" — by listening to it played backward, this week's quest is to try to figure out the name of the company that is on all the logos in the supply room, on Desmond's shirt and, weirdly enough, on that shark. Hmm... something's fishy there. And if anyone has a clue as to what the 237, 236 then 108,000 countdown clock means, I'd also be interested in hearing thoughts on that. Or on what would happen if the numbers weren't entered in time? Oh, and are Apollo candy bars real, or is that another in-joke? Anyway, these were the most coherent questions I had after I finally calmed my heart palpitations and got the Mama Cass song out of my head again. With Sawyer's mid-ocean self-surgery, Michael's near-drowning experience, Sawyer's shark-bait swim with a predator,
Question: What can you tell me about the song playing on the record player in the hatch last week on Lost? I keep thinking the lyrics are some kind of clue.
Answer: It's called "Make Your Own Kind of Music," and it's sung by Mama Cass. I can't seem to find any hidden messages in the lyrics, but then again, it never dawned on me to play Walt's creepy message backward. I also didn't realize the guy who died in Jack's flashback had the same last name as Shannon. Or notice the cursed numbers were printed on Desmond's pill bottle. Or....
What I love most about Lost is that — cue up the record player — it makes its own kind of music. (And whoever that cat Desmond is who's living in quarantine in the hatch, we at least are kindred spirits when it comes to Mama Cass.)
The playfully surreal opening sequence of Lost's season premiere blew my mind, and the rest of the suspenseful, emotionally compelling episode put my mind at ease. Not that I was listening to the naysayers over the summer who, peeved at all the cliff-hangers from May's finale, were drooling that this fabulous fable was all tease and no payoff.
So much for that theory. I haven't a clue why this mystery man is living under the island, surrounded by retro gizmos, computers and guns as he works out, guzzles health shakes, and injects himself with some drug that seems to share Hurley's lottery numbers (other fans have to tell me such things, because I simply can't retain that m