From the New York Times obit:
Mr. Ramis was multitalented: he was a skilled fencer and a ritual drummer, he spoke Greek to the owners of his local coffee shop and taught himself to ski by watching skiers on television. He made his own hats from felted fleece.
It could’ve been said by a Harold Ramis character. Watch the hairpin turn on the next quote, excerpted from an an excellent A/V Club interview conducted after Analyze This:
O: You mentioned that Groundhog Day won a comedy award, and that film will always be considered a comedy. But all those great Billy Wilder films, for instance, are also comedies with serious underpinnings, yet they’re considered classics bar none. Is it just that modern comedies have too much scatological humor and easy toilet jokes?
HR: Groundhog Day was pretty clean. It may have to do with some puritanical feeling that comedy is a forbidden pleasure in a certain way. They make you laugh, and laughter is somehow an inferior emotion to tragedy. Maybe that’s it. But in the real world, Groundhog Day got exactly the sort of reaction I would have hoped for: a really tremendous outpouring of support from what I call the spiritual community. People of every religion and spiritual discipline wrote me saying, “This movie expresses the philosophy of yoga better than any movie ever,” or the philosophy of Zen Buddhism. Jesuits were writing me, Rabbis were preaching sermons on the High Holy Days about it, psychoanalysts were saying the movie is about psychoanalysis. So everyone got it, you know? It’s interesting that everyone tended to think that they got it exclusively. The Buddhists would say, “Well, no one else would understand it, but this a really Buddhist movie. You must be one of us.”
The philosophy of yoga. Sermons on the High Holy Days. Dogs and cats living together – mass hysteria.