Steve Martin is one of the funniest people alive today. Have I seen The Pink Panther yet? No, as I have yet to hear word that they are paying people to watch such blasphemy. I haven't watched Cheaper By The Dozen or it's underwhelming sequel either. Sue me. These are not films I consider prime examples of Martin's comedic talents. Sure, his absence from those movies would render them undeniably horrible to the vast majority of those with cerebral cortices, but beggars can't be choosers.
When I speak of his genius, I'm thinking of The Jerk, Dean Men Don't Wear Plaid, and one of my all-time favorite films, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. And this only speaks of his work in film. The man writes too. I have only had the pleasure to read a scant sampling of his essays, but it has left me wanting more. So, when I caught wind last year he had written about his time as a stand-up comic--that brief ear when he had the world by the gonads--I knew what I wanted for Christmas.
Christmas came, I didn't get it. Who knows, there might be another Christmas this year. Fingers crossed.