Huck Finn’s adrenalin’s kickin’ in. Up on the trombone,
Tom Sawyer! And all stellar in their futuristic-funkscape
’staches, it’s the Sam Clemens Seven. Lip-locked to hip
hop. Then, oh baby, Bill Cosby’s feelin’ it. He snatches
two spoons off the nearest dessert tray: glasses of choco-
late mousse. He licks ’em clean & jiggles down a rapid
series of clicks, jamming the iambics on this old paddle-
wheel here clear across the nightingale. Nonetheless un-
impressed, Fat Albert goes back to cleaning his Colt 45.