Just found out that Irish comedian Dave Allen died Thursday. When I was growing up, back in the three-channel, Paleozoic days, I used to stay up late to watch adult humor. In the days before Comedy Central and paid cable, this meant me pulling a chair up in front of the dresser my TV sat on, propping my feet up on it, and turning to PBS to catch "Benny Hill" and "Monty Python" and "Dave Allen at Large." Allen was everyone's favorite uncle, the one that gets tanked and tells funny stories until one or the both of you pass out. His shows had skits, which were apparently mandatory on all British comedy shows on penalty of law, but mostly he sat on his stool, sipped his drink, smoked his cigarettes, and told jokes. Some great, some awful, some telegraphed a mile away, but it didn't matter because he threw himself so fully into the joke, doing all the voices, acting out all the parts, that you laughed anyway. He was also probably the first person I heard really make fun of religion, and it's hard to say how much of an impact that made on me. There was always a confessional joke waiting to happen, and a lot of the kind of humor that you see much anymore: ribald, risque, racy, but never crude. An example: "A newly married husband asked his wife how she wanted to have him approach her. "'Well,' she said, 'We'll play hide-and-seek. I'll hide and you can look for me. When you find me then you may seduce me.' "'But what if I can't find you?' "'I'll be in the downstairs linen closet.'" Good night Mr. Allen, thank you, and may your God go with you.