My Sweet Bippy

I understand that by admitting that I not only watched "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In" but I remember watching it. I remember Henry Gibson's poems and Arte Johnson's "velly interesting" Nazi. I remember the guy in the raincoat riding his tricycle and falling over when he ran into all manner of obstacles. I remember Gary Owens gorgeous baritone announcing the show from "beautiful downtown Burbank." I remember being intimidated by Jo Anne Worley and quietly aroused by Goldie Hawn. I remember being fascinated by the amazing chameleon qualities of Lily Tomlin. But most of all, I remember the ringmasters: Dan and Dick.
Dan was a playboy, obviously. He wore a moustache and smoked a pipe. He's the one who said every week, "Say goodnight, Dick." Dick was the one who seemed to be having all the fun. Regularly cracking up in skits, before during and after introducing segments, he always appeared to be having a good time. Most of what came out of his mouth sounded like double entendre, intentional or not. I imagined he probably woke up in that tuxedo most mornings. He gave me my first catch-phrase. Others, including Richard Nixon, took the standard, "Sock it to me!" I preferred Dick's "You bet your sweet bippy!"
As a matter of fact, I may have been one of the few people who was actually enthusiastic about the appearance of Rowan and Martin's film, "The Maltese Bippy." A werewolf movie starring the guys from "Laugh-In"? How could it miss? Most of what I knew about the film I learned from the pages of "Famous Monsters of Filmland", specifically the photos of Dick Martin undergoing the "painstaking process" of having the lycanthrope makeup applied to him for hours each day. In fact, it took me many years to get a chance to see it in its entirety, since my parents probably felt that even a "G" rated film that told the story of soft-core porn directors who get mixed up in a murder mystery might be beyond their precocious seven-year-old son.
When I finally saw "The Maltese Bippy: years later, it was a terrible letdown. It wasn't a werewolf movie at all. It was a spoof with very little "oof". To his credit, Dick seemed to be having a whale of a good time still, but the 1969 zeitgeist had passed, and the jokes worked better in Mel Brooks and Monty Python films. I had grown up, but they never had.
Now Dick has gone to join his partner in that big lounge act in the sky. Since Dan went on ahead, I'll just have to do it for him: "Say goodnight, Dick."