From Hollywood

The Fallen Idol

If today I am a full-fledged cynic, with all the accoutrements thereof — the granite heart, the jaundiced eye and the querulous insistence on reading the small print before signing any document—I pray you remember I was not always thus. When I was one-and-twenty, I was as big a schnook as any Shropshire lad; when I was two-and-twenty (by which time, if memory serves me correctly, even the Shropshire yokel had come to his senses), I was even a bigger patsy. Let’s face it: I was a notable instance of arrested development and I was at least two-and-forty before I began looking around and not taking everybody at his face value.

MR

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Morrie Ryskind

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The Fallen Idol

If today I am a full-fledged cynic, with all the accoutrements thereof — the granite heart, the jaundiced eye and the querulous insistence on reading the small print before signing any document—I pray you remember I was not always thus. When I was one-and-twenty, I was as big a schnook as any Shropshire lad; when I was two-and-twenty (by which time, if memory serves me correctly, even the Shropshire yokel had come to his senses), I was even a bigger patsy. Let’s face it: I was a notable instance of arrested development and I was at least two-and-forty before I began looking around and not taking everybody at his face value.