Gracie turns detective in a movie based on a dective novel written by S. S. Van Dine. The novel of the same title actually was written based on the character Gracie played. George did not play in the film at all, and apparently was only involved in promotional pieces.
HERE I am at last.
The first Lady President!
Imagine George Burns saying that if I loved my country I would demand a recount!
To my friends who kept up my spirits throughout the good fight, and to my supporters who did the same thing for my stockings. I thank you. And I say further that my election goes to show that the United States is still the land of importunity, where the humble have the same chance as those of lowly origin.
I’ll never forget the little sentiment that a man who said his name was “Admirer of Dewey” wrote on the bottom of his ballot:
Voters see red, when voters get blue.
If the country goes crazy, it may go for you.
DEAR DIARY!
I am so thrilled. For tomorrow is the big day, the day he is to give me my answer. Sam–soon perhaps to be Uncle Sam.
My heart beats just as it did the night after I first told George of my love and I was waiting to speak to his father. Ah, me. What will Sammy say? And will tomorrow be the Day of Gracie?
If only I could have my loved ones about me to witness my triumph. But my brother, so impetuous, is already busy making stamps, and George is going to make his hole in one, on account of the club bar will be closed all day and he won’t have to treat. And daddy is still serving his third term.
But at least, even if I don’t win tomorrow, it makes me so happy to know that daddy is well provided for at last, now that he’s given up trying to invent that unbreakable glass for firealarm boxes and has found something steady. Alcatraz is just another home from home for him now.
“Hello, Warden,” my daddy always says. “Any mail waiting for me?”
A LOT of water has flowed under the TVA since the old days when Alabama used to cast her 32 votes for Oscar Underwood, but us oldsters remember them well. Why, we even remember the Republicians. It used to be in those days that you couldn’t hold election without them.
But if I’m anything, I’m a modern, if I’m anything, and I believe that conventions should be streamlined. Streamlining is the process of reducing wind-resistance, if you know what I mean, but that isn’t everything. The boys in the back room (ask them what they’ll have, George) must go, on account of it’s time we gave the game back to the delegates.
Then the delegates can give it to me.
Under the present system, too many ballots are taken. You’d think that paper didn’t cost anything. But I will fix that, and I will now tell you how.
ACCORDING to an old legend, our forefathers first started shaking hands so that the politicians could have only one hand free to pick the voters’ pockets.
That’s silly, if I do say it myself. Smart politicians don’t pick pockets. They take ’em as they come.
On an average campaign tour a candidate shakes hands 400 times a day, thereby expending enough muscular contraction to milk all the cows in Van Buren County. But this would be just as silly as shaking hands. Why should a candidate milk cows when he can appoint his own Secretary of the Treasury?
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George Burns and Gracie Allen 