Fine and dandy. That’s an old fashioned one isn’t, yea. Say to a guy, “How are ya?” He says, “Fine and dandy!” Not me, I never say that. You know how come? ‘Cause I’m never both of those things at the same time. Sometimes I’m fine, not dandy. Close to dandy, approaching dandy, in the vicinity of dandyhood. Not quite fully dandy.
Other times, I am, indeed, highly dandy. However, not fine. One time. One time, in 1965, August, for about an hour, I was both fine and dandy at the same time. But nobody asked me how I was! And I coulda told ‘em. I coulda told ‘em. I coulda said to the person, “Fine and dandy.” I consider it a lost opportunity.
