It's been a hectic day, and I'm gonna phone this sumbitch in. Here's my entry from March 18:

ORIGINAL AIR DATE: March 9, 1951

GEORGE FENNEMAN (VO): Ladies and gentlemen, the National Broadcasting Company and the DeSoto-Plymouth Dealers of America present the one, the only--

CROWD: Groucho!

GROUCHO: Really?

GEORGE FENNEMAN (VO): You Bet Your Life!

(Music theme; applause)

GROUCHO: Thank you, thank you, your checks are in the mail. They're not being sent to you, but they're in the mail anyway, and that's called hitting the mail on the bread. There's a joke in there somewhere, but you might need a flashlight to find it. Or a periscope, depending on the depths to which you're willing to sink. Did you hear that sentence, George? Wasn't that classy?

GEORGE: Very well put, Groucho.

GROUCHO: So are you, George. And so's Ava Gardner, though I'm sure you're the better dancer. And if Ava were here, I'd tell you to hoof it somewhere else. Oh, where's Ava? I'm surrounded by vagabonds and Stanford graduates, which is redundant if you think about it. And speaking of redundant, let's get to today's secret word...

(Duck plummets down, the word RATIONAL around its neck)

GROUCHO: Rational. R-A-T-I-O-N-A-L. Bye bye, duckie.

(Duck rises out of camera range)

GROUCHO: George, did you know "ducky" is an English term meaning "peachy"?

GEORGE: I think I did hear that, Grouch.

GROUCHO: They've got their meats mixed up with their fruits out there in England, which explains why that country's in such a state. Or why that state's in such a country. In any case, it's incontinent. But crossing the Atlantic and getting back to our show, if one of our couples says the secret word, the duck will come down and award them 100 smackers, which is an old English term for dollars, which buys you a lot sausage. And speaking of sausage, George, why don't we get this monkey show on the road and bring out our first hot dogs.

GEORGE: Certainly, Groucho. Before the show we asked our audience to select two future talking-head pundits, one a child, the other as-yet unborn. They've selected Mr. William O'Reilly and Ms. Ann Coulter. Folks, come on out and meet ... Groucho Marx!

(Applause)

GROUCHO: Hello and welcome to You Bet Your Life. Say the secret word, and the duck will come down and give you a hundred dollars. It's a common word, something you use around the house. William O'Reilly and Ann Coulter--O'Reilly. A little Irish fella, eh? Where do you hail from, Darby O'Gill?

WILLIAM: Bill.

GROUCHO: Bill. Where's Bill? Under your hat? Under your duck?

WILLIAM: No, I'M Bill.

GROUCHO: You're awfully young to be a whole city. What's your curfew?

WILLIAM: I'm from the Westbury section of Levittown, New York.

GROUCHO: Where?

WILLIAM: Levittown.

GROUCHO: Is the town on an incline?

WILLIAM: No, LEVITtown, not LEVELtown.

GROUCHO: On a sharp decline, at least.

WILLIAM: I live in the Westbury section.

GROUCHO: No, I think they're two different cities.

WILLIAM: No.

GROUCHO: In fact, we played a wonderful theater out in Westbury many years ago, a little show called I'll Say She Is. It's a very nice area, if I recall.

WILLIAM: Actually, it's lower-middle class.

GROUCHO: Lower-middle, eh? So are you saying it's an abdominal existence? That joke's too old for you, Bill. It's almost too old for me. In fact, it delivered my father. So did my mother. Marked him HANDLE WITH CARE right into matrimony. Are you a married man?

WILLIAM: No, I'm only two years old.

GROUCHO: So what--you're never too young to be miserable. Soon as you're out of diapers, you're a marked man. And when you're in diapers, you're a messy man. You just can't win, Bill, so you might as well not even try. Which reminds me of an old joke about your last name. You wanna hear it?

WILLIAM: No.

GROUCHO: When an Irishman gets a headache, how does he take his pills?

WILLIAM: I don't know.

GROUCHO: O'Reilly. Now, wasn't that worth the wait?

WILLIAM: I guess.

GROUCHO: Save the guessing for the quiz portion, Bill. Is this your wife?

WILLIAM: No, she's just some lady they gave me backstage.

GROUCHO: They're giving away ladies backstage? George, you're the host now--I quit. I'll try my luck as a contestant. Ask me who's buried in Grant's tomb.

GEORGE: All right, who's buried in Grant's tomb?

GROUCHO: Who cares? Where are the women? Do I still have a sponsor?

(GROUCHO scampers to the front of the podium, where a placard still reads "DeSoto-Plymouth.")

GROUCHO: All right, Bill, take five. I'm gonna make time with your partner here. What's your name again, miss?

ANN: Ann Coulter.

GROUCHO: No, but I'm wearing a jacket.

ANN: No, my name is Ann COULTER.

GROUCHO: Any relation to Ann Arbor?

ANN: No.

GROUCHO: Good. We've done this before, so let's not go through Michigan.

ANN: I don't get it.

GROUCHO: We call that "reaching." A better joke would be: A crosseyed man with a lisp was taking target practice in Detroit, but he wasn't doing very well. So he put on a pair of corrective glasses and stepped closer to the target and said, "I'm not taking any chances; I don't want to Michigan."

ANN: Oh, brother.

GROUCHO: I've got four more of those if you're tired of me, but you can only exchange me for merchandise already in stock. Though it's only fair to warn you I stole those jokes from Chico. Did anyone ever tell you you're the spitting image of Francis the Talking Mule? Before you answer that with a belt across the mouth, let's play You Bet Your Life. Fenneman here'll explain the rules. Then someone'll come out and explain Fenneman.

GEORGE: Each couple starts off with $10. Groucho will ask you three questions, and you can bet as much of that $10 as you'd like. The couple earning the most money by the end of the show gets a shot at $1,000.

GROUCHO: That buys a lot of horse feed, Ann.

ANN: Heh.

GEORGE: The topic our couple has chosen, Groucho, is "Politics of the Future."

GROUCHO: Fine with me. OK. "Politics of the Future." How much do you lovebirds wanna bet on the first question?

(The couple confers.)

BILL: We'll go with five.

GROUCHO: Five it is. First question: Who won the 2000 Presidential Election in Florida? Oh, this should be interesting. I don't know this one myself.

BILL: We're going to go with George W. Bush?

GROUCHO: No, I'm sorry. That's incorrect. It's Al Gore. Al Gore. Sounds like tuna. There's probably something fishy in there, anyway, and I'm working without a net. How much do they have left, George?

GEORGE: Five dollars, Grouch.

GROUCHO: That's OK. You kids are still in the running. How much are you willing to wager on the second question?

(The couple confers)

ANN: $4.75?

WILLIAM: Yeah. $4.75.

GROUCHO: What was the title of the most reviled book of 2003?

(The couple confers.)

WILLIAM: Lies And The Lying Liars Who Tell Them?

GROUCHO: Is that your final answer?

O'REILLY: Definitely.

GROUCHO: I'm sorry, but that's not correct. It's Treason: Liberal Treachery From The Cold War To The War On Terrorism. Sounds like a heavy read. Tough break, kids. You're not doing very well at this game. You can't have much left at this point; how much sixpence they got, Fenneman?

GEORGE: Just a second.

GROUCHO: Look at that Stanford education in action. Notice the steam rising from his collar. When he leans down he pours hot tea.

GEORGE: A quarter, Grouch.

GROUCHO: Well, kids, you can almost afford Fenneman's suit. If you get the answer to this one, you can walk away with the pants too. A surge of cash for a serge suit. Did you know my father was a tailor? Lousiest tailor in New York, but let's not drag the New Testament into this. How much are you willing to wager on Question No. 3?

(The couple confers)

ANN: We'll shoot the works, Groucho.

GROUCHO: If you get this wrong, you can always go collecting cans for the needy: yourselves. What was George W. Bush's justification for going to war with Iraq in 2003?

(The couple confers.)

GROUCHO: Take your time. Fenneman doesn't have to shill DeSotos for another 10 minutes.

(The couple continues to confer.)

ANN: That would be to force the dismantling of Saddam Hussein's Weapons of Mass Destruction program?

GROUCHO: No, I'm sorry, that's incorrect. As a matter of fact, the card's blank. Good gracious, THIS nonsense is the Politics of the Future? I'm glad I'll be dead for that little jaunt. It seems like none of you are gonna have a rational bone in your--

(Trumpets blare and the duck comes down. Groucho takes the money.)

GROUCHO: Well, looks like I've said the secret word. About time you showed up. And it's just as well; Fenneman and I'll be using this cash to get loaded and weep for the future. But because this is You Bet Your Life, we can't let you go away empty-handed, though you will leave empty-headed, and you'll have a tougher time walking than me and George in about two hours. So here's the freebie question: Who's buried in Grant's tomb?

(The couple confers.)

WILLIAM: That would be General Grant.

GROUCHO: No, I'm sorry. The correct answer is America. Thank you, and lots of luck from your DeSoto-Plymouth dealer. You're gonna need it.