“Wait a minute....”
“We got it, Al.”
“Wait a minute, Max, I’m thinking, for Christ’s sake ... ‘healthy satire of the media’.... It’s an angle, it’s an angle. Jones might buy it ... Jones at the FCC ... if I could get to him first ... he’s stupid enough to buy it. Okay, it’s an angle, Max—that’s all I can say right now ... it’s an angle.”
The critics for the most part, after lambasting the first couple of shows as “terrific boners,” sat tight for a while, just to see which way the wind was going to blow, so to speak—then, with the rating at sky-rocket level, they began to suggest that the show might be worth a peek.
“An off-beat sleeper,” one of them said, “don’t miss it.”
“New comedy,” said a second, “a sophisticated take-off on the sentimental.”
And another: “Here’s humor at its highest.”
Almost all agreed in the end that it was healthy satire.
After interfering with six or seven shows, Grand grew restive.
“I’m pulling out,” he said to himself, “it may have been good money after bad all along.”