I love to listen to comedy records in bed so I can fall asleep mid-laugh. For a few years Woodrow was my reliable bedtime tuck-in standup. When I slide this LP on the player I always take a moment to stop and look at the label. There's something about this one. It's so incongruous with the material. The LP sticker sort of looks like the gates of heaven done up in golden age Hollywood style. This isn't dreamland, Andy, this is permanent. The rest of the LP design features several different shots of Woodman bowing his head, maybe getting ready to go on stage, maybe thinking up another joke for bedtime, or maybe just thinking about what he's done. My mind wanders to the film "Defending Your Life" when Albert Brooks goes to a purgatory called Judgement City. Or what if the Golden Girls were all already dead and the shows endless repetitions were little more than the last synaptic firings of Dorothy Zbornak, or Rose Nylund's dementia? The moose joke. I "looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me." And I'm asleep before the side's done.
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