Last week, in the middle of the day, I sat in my office laughing hard at an episode of "All in the Family" which I saw about 9 or 10 years ago. It was an episode in which Archie changes a baby's diaper. The part at which I laughed so hard that it hurt was where he took off the used diaper and, not knowing what to do with it, he grunted and threw it over his shoulder.

I think that what I remember most about that moment was not so much Archie tossing the diaper over his shoulder but the thunderclap of laughter that erupted -- as loud and spontaneous as any I've ever heard.

I wonder if there is a theory of comedy that correlates to the rule of thumb regarding how close you are to the center of a thunderstorm based on how many seconds pass between the bolt of lightning and the clap of thunder. I think that rule states that for every second that passes between the lightning and the thunder your are that many miles from the center of the storm, and the further apart the lightning and thunder become the further away the storm is moving. Maybe the corollary regards how many nanoseconds pass between the punchline and the joke, how many seconds the laughter goes on, how long the comedian or actor has to pause before the laughter stops so s/he can continue the script. I think all these elements could make for a fascinating "Theory of Comedy" where scenes like the diaper-tossing one exhibit an audience in the vortex of a comedic typhoon.

I could be making some of this up based on fuzzy memories; I think I saw that episode of "All in the Family" during the summer of 1990 while experiencing a renewed interest in that show and its many, many spin-offs. (There were more spin-offs based on AITF than any other TV show ever made.)

After moving to New York in October of that year I continued to watch "The Jeffersons." At one point I carefully explained to a girlfriend at the time that I liked George Jefferson because he was an obnoxious asshole but always a good guy by the end of the show. She objected to me liking that show, saying it was "so stereotypically black." Eventually she admitted to having never seen or heard the show, and I eventually concluded that she just made that comment up.

I've always liked shows that feature a man and a woman sniping and bitching at each other with acrid piss and bile. I liked "Benson" for that same reason. Benson and Krauss (sp?) gave each other hell. Plus, Benson could sing.

Anyway, I'm way off the subject. But just to clarify -- I have not watched much network TV for years. I have cable TV in my office and I watch American Movie Classics and the Bravo network all day, but it's hard to really follow those movies and performances while looking busy at work.

But another event from the (not-so-distant) past that I found myself remembering as if still happening was David Letterman's seemingly impromptu eulogy for Gene Siskel after his death a few months ago. Dave sounded irritated and angry to be saying such thoughtful things, but it also seemed like he was truly sad in some way. He stuck those comments into the middle of a rambling sit-down monologue, and when he was through dispensing the eulogy (which lasted for quite a while) he moved right on to the scheduled comedy.

I don't know if it was the eulogy itself that I remember or if it was hearing Letterman talk like that. It reminded me of the night the Gulf War started and I imagined that entertainers and performers (like Dave) would express national solidarity to make the stress of the situation go away. It never happened, but I wondered throughout the Gulf War (I just resisted calling it "The War") if it would be he or Jay Leno who entertained the troops if the conflict went on for years. And I say, what of Arsenio Hall?

I think the troops got Bob Hope. (And Dave once said that Siskel & Ebert were the only reason he put 2 chairs out by the desk.)

I've never lived through anything you could possibly call "The War." And, as I am occasionally reminded, I don't know shit about sacrifice. But I remember now like it just happened that feeling during the Gulf War that I would do whatever possible to support the cause. My feeling about war is not that it is heroic or dignified but a flailing of desperation and barbarism, run by cowards and politicians, and I intended to be among the flailing desperate.

But then the whole thing was over before you could say "Super Bowl."

Three of the above four paragraphs started with the word "I."