There exist countless tons of hidden cultural artifacts that were never meant for public consumption, all commissioned by private companies or corporations for exclusive distribution to their own employees and executive boards. The collectible 1979 McDonalds flexi-disc is a fairly well known example. I find such things fascinating when they surface. Since I haven’t worked directly for a huge corporation since I think probably 1995, I honestly have no idea if such things even happen anymore. Oftentimes, they’re worthy bits of cultural product, made by perfectly reputable entertainers. Such an example that I ran across recently easily won my smile. It stars the late, great comedian Jonathan Winters—in his prime, no less—performing a variety of roles in this goofy film for the edification and enrichment of Caprolan nylon rug salesmen, back in 1960! It’s hokey, safe comedy befitting the audience and era, but Winters is as charming and funny here as he ever was. Enjoy!
 

 
Previously on Dangerous Minds
A seldom-seen side of comic genius Jonathan Winters, 1973

 
There was not a lot of stuff that my father and I could agree on when I was growing up, but on the matter of Jonathan Winters (and Diana Rigg) we were in firm agreement. We both thought he was hysterical. To this day I have Winters’ zany flights of verbal fancy etched in my memory from listening to his comedy albums over and over again.

Today most people will remember Jonathan Winters from films like It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, The Loved One (which he is amazing in) and The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming. Or his TV roles as “Mearth,” the alien son of Mork & Mindy and for his memorable appearances on The Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts and Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show.

The thing that virtually all of Winters’ TV and film appearances have in common is how OUT THERE and free-form his comedy was. Jonathan Winters, even into old age, was been known for his manic energy and indefatigable improvisational genius. You never, ever saw him in a quiet, contemplative mood, but for 30 minutes here, in this 1973 program from public television called Day at Night, you get to see a very different side of the comic genius. The host is public television pioneer James Day.

Talk about a dangerous mind, this is a delight.

Winters’ last album was the morbidly titled Final Approach.