"He is the funniest comedian I have ever heard. He made me laugh with his Russian jokes so much that tears were rolling down my eyes. We were in Branson, Missouri, 2 years ago and I'll never forget him or his hilarious act. He is playing this Thursday night at the Old Westbury Theater (Capital One now). Do you want to go with me to see him? You won't be sorry. His Name is Weird Al Yankovic."

Thus spake my neighbor and friend. "Sure, pal, I'll go with you. It sounds like a fabulous show," said I, opening up Pandora's Box to one of the wackiest evenings of my young life.

As we arrived at the theater after a steak dinner at Ben's Delicatessen Syosset, I was shocked by the crowd as it entered. Kids of 12 to 16 were the mainstay of the audience. They arrived in T-shirts with a variety of messages imprinted on them. Some were dragging parents who seemed a bit leery of the forthcoming experience.

As we took our seats, the crowd began a wave. I have seen the wave done at Shea Stadium but never, never at Westbury Music Fair. The crowd was going nuts prior to the entrance of their hero Weird Al Yankovic.

I turned to my pal, and I said "When I was in Branson I saw a Russian comedian who had his own theater, but he was named Yaacov Smirnoff."

My buddy turned white and stated "that's the guy!" He had mistaken one Russian name for another.

The people in front of us roared with laughter. I called my son Gregg and he too cracked up. "He has clever lyrics" Gregg said. My companion said "They will never give us our money back.

We're stuck with Weird Al. Weird Al jumped on stage with curly hair below his shoulders. The crowd went wild.

Weird Al began to scream at the top of his voice. You could not understand or even hear the clever lyrics. His gyrations and screaming were something to behold.

My ears began to ache because we were sitting under a group of powerful speakers. I was in physical pain in my ears. What to do - what to do?

I had brought the NY Post to read. I tore off some newspaper, wet it, and placed a large wad in my right ear and a smaller wad in my left ear. It was better but not perfect. "Let's get the heck out of here," I said.

We left before Weird Al was finished. As we were departing I took the NY Post wad from my right ear. The smaller wad in my left would not come out. It was stuck. My friend tried to remove it but it was too far in.

On Friday morning, after having slept with the wad in my ear all night, my chum accompanied me to Syosset Hospital. I thanked him and he said, "that's what friends are for."

The young doctor, (15 years old at the most) placed a tweezer in my left ear and removed the wad. It was as though I had passed into heaven. It was relief and ecstasy simultaneously.

All this because my friend could not differentiate between two Russian names.