Today marks the anniversary of the premier of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In in 1968. My parents called it "mod," and we watched it every week. We gathered in front of the TV for an hour of innuendo, skinny chicks in bikinis, off-color jokes, and silly gags--remember the wall full of doors that opened seemingly at random to reveal regular cast members and their dopey one liners? Or Goldie Hawn acting stupid? Or Joanne Worley with that obnoxious cackling? I never understood why that show was permitted in our house. We were strict Baptists--tee totalling people with knee-length skirts who weren't allowed to dance and weren't allowed to listen to rock-n-roll and weren't allowed to say even words like dern or gosh or darn it. We went to church every week and competed in Bible drills and Sunday school attendance contests with red and blue teams. Yet, on Monday evenings, we watched the entire hour of Laugh-In. I remember hearing a joke I was sure I shouldn't be he...