“I never tried to prove nothing, just wanted to give a good show. My life has always been my music, it’s always come first, but the music ain’t worth nothing if you can’t lay it on the public. The main thing is to live for that audience, ’cause what you’re there for is to please the people.”
Abbott: Strange as it may seem, they give ball players nowadays very peculiar names.
Costello: Funny names?
Abbott: Nicknames, nicknames. Now, on the St. Louis team we have Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–
Costello: That’s what I want to find out. I want you to tell me the names of the fellows on the St. Louis team.
Abbott: I’m telling you. Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–
Costello: You know the fellows’ names?
Costello: Well, then who’s playing first?
Costello: I mean the fellow’s name on first base.
Costello: The fellow playin’ first base.
Costello: The guy on first base.
Abbott: Who is on first.
Costello: Well, what are you askin’ me for?
Abbott: I’m not asking you–I’m telling you. Who is on first.
Costello: I’m asking you–who’s on first?
Abbott: That’s the man’s name.
Costello: That’s who’s name?
Costello: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?
Abbott: Every dollar of it. And why not, the man’s entitled to it.
Costello: Who is?
Costello: So who gets it?
Abbott: Why shouldn’t he? Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.
Costello: Who’s wife?
Abbott: Yes. After all, the man earns it.
Costello: Who does?
Costello: Well, all I’m trying to find out is what’s the guy’s name on first base?
Abbott: Oh, no, no. What is on second base.
Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.
Abbott: Who’s on first!
Costello: St. Louis has a good outfield?
Abbott: Oh, absolutely.
Costello: The left fielder’s name?
Costello: I don’t know, I just thought I’d ask.
Abbott: Well, I just thought I’d tell you.
Costello: Then tell me who’s playing left field?
Abbott: Who’s playing first.
Costello: Stay out of the infield! The left fielder’s name?
Abbott: Oh, he’s center field.
Costello: Wait a minute. You got a pitcher on this team?
Abbott: Wouldn’t this be a fine team without a pitcher?
Costello: Tell me the pitcher’s name.
Costello: Now, when the guy at bat bunts the ball–me being a good catcher–I want to throw the guy out at first base, so I pick up the ball and throw it to who?
Abbott: Now, that’s he first thing you’ve said right.
Costello: I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!
Abbott: Don’t get excited. Take it easy.
Costello: I throw the ball to first base, whoever it is grabs the ball, so the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to what. What throws it to I don’t know. I don’t know throws it back to tomorrow–a triple play.
Abbott: Yeah, it could be.
Costello: Another guy gets up and it’s a long ball to center.
Costello: Why? I don’t know. And I don’t care.
Abbott: What was that?
Costello: I said, I DON’T CARE!
Abbott: Oh, that’s our shortstop!
This is a test for Jetpack’s Tiled Gallery.
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This is some text after the Tiled Gallery just to make sure that everything spaces nicely.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, “Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!” This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.
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