Sad news from Hollywood: the king of the insult comics, “Mr. Warmth,” Don Rickles has died at 90 of kidney failure. He deserves a final standing ovation, not only for giving the world 70 years of laughs, but for continuing to entertain audiences right up until the end and never yielding to the PC thugs who’ve terrorized so many comedians into censoring themselves, lest anyone's feeling be hurt by their jokes. Rickles gleefully offended everyone, like a heckler who’d somehow taken over the stage, addressing his fans as “hockey puck,” and playing off of ethnic and gender stereotypes while always making sure the crowd knew that he was a nice guy playing a jerk. He got us to laugh at ourselves and our own absurd prejudices, which we need more of.
It’s no surprise that Rickles wasn’t cowed by the young hothouse flowers of the SJW movement. He was a lifelong pal of Frank Sinatra, and anyone who would do jokes about Sinatra and the mob to his face had no fear. One of his best Sinatra lines is in the obit, but another story he loved to tell isn’t. Rickles recalled that before he met Barbara, his wife of 52 years, he was dating a young woman he wanted to impress. So when he saw Sinatra in the same Vegas restaurant, he begged him to stop by his table, to show his date what a big shot he was that the great Frank Sinatra would come over and say hi to him. Frank agreed. Later, as he was leaving, a smiling Sinatra approached Rickles’ table and said, “Hi, Don!” Rickles angrily snapped back, “Frank, please! We’re tryin’ to eat!”
Luckily for Rickles, Sinatra cracked up laughing.