The answer, dear children, is FERTILIZER.

I’ve reasoned to wonder why Randy Quaid is kept on the payroll. Can we catalogue a Truer Descent into Self-Imposed Exile than that of the Chieftain of Full Shitters & Kamikaze Pilots? Who is sitting behind a desk, finger dangling over the Red Button of Make-It-or-Break-It for the Entertainment-Folk? It’s time for a 7% increase in salary for the Bug Buster. His has been a career of off-beat, atilt, and wuh-wuh-wacky appearances and yes, occasionally, he has been seen sporting a blazer (“The Paper”, “Bye Bye Love”, “Caddyshack II”). I thoroughly enjoyed his twisted turn-of-tongue in the 1993 flick “Freaked”, looking pleasantly (read: manically) like Uncle Sam, post battery-acid-and-Mr.-Pib shooters aplenty. Let Us Not Cast From Grace this American Treasure because surely Chevy Chase will one day require Mr. Quaid’s timely intervention in yet another flapperty-japperty attempt to emerge as Man of the Year, 2014: