I've been waiting for this one

Alan Alda says farewell to his friend Larry Gelbart. Excerpts follow, but for god's sake read the whole thing:

Larry Gelbart could take an event where sentimentality was allowed, even expected, and turn it on its ear. My friend Allan Katz, who also wrote for "MASH," was with him once at a friend's funeral. When Larry realized he had to leave early, he leaned over to Allan and said simply, "I'm sorry to grieve and run."

And the more I watched him, the more convinced I became that the only effort he put into it was in not saying most of the funny things that occurred to him. He would only let one get his lips moving if it was really worth hearing. And he would often enjoy it as much as you did, as if he had never heard it before. Because he hadn't.

But he's gone now. The bastard seems to have won this round. We have the words and images our friend left behind, but we don't have that easy smile, full of generosity, or the sound of that silky voice and lovingly articulated words. They really were pearls that came out of his mouth, and he never gave the impression he was laying them before swine. All of us who worked with him were awed by him, and we revered him, but we always, always were comfortable in his presence because above all we loved him. And we could see that he loved us back.