First order of business:

Happy Birthday, Sister-san!

The Great Flydini

Brought to you by comedian, actor and author Steve Martin and his magical trousers.

Have I ever told you about the huge crush I have on Steve Martin? It's true. I loved Steve even before he started making family comedies and writing books. I loved him when he was a Tonight Show guest and a Saturday Night Live god, I loved him singing "King Tut" on MTV, and I loved him on the vinyl comedy albums my parents played for us on homey evenings. I loved him when he was a ramblin', banjo-playin' guy. I'd like to say I loved him before his hair went silver, but that's going too far back even for me.

It was with great pleasure, then, that I viewed his appearance as the Great Flydini on one of my Best of Carson DVDs last night. I don't think I've laughed so hard since the first time I saw Eddie Izzard. It's a simple gag played to great effect — and I apologize for going on about it here, because it's much better seen than read. Still: Steve comes out on stage, pins back the tails of his suit jacket, carefully unzips his trousers, and proceeds to pull stuff out of his fly. He doesn't rummage for the items; they appear at the opening as he stands with his arms stiff at his sides. It's all done wordlessly, the famous rubber face bemused and somber, with classy music playing.

First there's a series of scarves tied together at the corners like a magician's scarves. Then several eggs, which he places in a basket. A lit cigarette. Then a phone rings and he pulls a receiver out, the cord trailing back into his pants. In the short pantomimed conversation, he clearly mouths, "I told you never to call me here!" Back in goes the phone.

Then a beautiful woman appears and the crowd titters with anticipation, wondering how close to an R rating they're going to get. The fly produces a bouquet for the woman, followed by a small cocktail. Then the phone rings again . . . and it's for her. She chats for a moment, then tucks the receiver back into his fly. As she leaves, Flydini offers her the gift of a lace handkerchief. She takes it but drops it carelessly on her way out — and it swoops right back into the fly.

For the finale, a small harlequin hand(?)puppet emerges from the fly and "sings" the operatic aria on the soundtrack with Martin watching in amazement. The puppet takes his bows and Flydini exits. Brought back for an encore, Flydini emits a shower of bubbles a la Lawrence Welk.

Best. Prop comedy. Ever.

Today around the world: April 8 is the birthday of the Sultan of Johor in Malaysia — and Sister-san's birthday everywhere else.