The only actors Carol Burnett couldn’t tolerate… 

 

 

 

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 It’s free and means the world to me. Now, let’s get straight into this wild story. Carol Burnett, the woman adored across America for her warm smile and playful humor, has always been seen as the sweetest soul in Hollywood. But after decades of keeping her reputation spotless, she shocked everyone with a few confessions no one ever saw coming.

Now in her 90s, during a rare and emotional sit-down with Rolling Stone, Carol opened up about the men she could never stand throughout her life. These weren’t random guys in passing. They were people deeply connected to her career and personal life. Some broke her heart through betrayal and greed, others clashed with her over money and fame, and a few even tried to edge her out of major shows like Saturday Night Live.

One younger man went too far, mocking her image in a nasty sketch that crossed every line. That single move pushed Carol to take the fight to court just to defend her name and dignity. So, who were these men that left such deep scars on this Hollywood legend? And which one of them did she swear she could never forgive? Among them was Harvey Korman, once her closest friend and most trusted co-star, but also the reason behind one of the most explosive fallouts of her entire career. In the glittering world of 1970s

television, where every laugh meant sky-high ratings and million-dollar ad deals, The Carol Burnett Show ruled the airwaves. At its center stood the unstoppable duo, Carol Burnett and Harvey Korman, a partnership so seamless it felt like magic. Carol was the show’s heartbeat, while Harvey brought that perfect comedic balance that made every sketch pop.

 But behind the applause and laughter, cracks were forming, and soon the tension would become impossible to hide. By 1974, a friendship that once lit up Hollywood was starting to fall apart. As The Carol Burnett Show entered its seventh season, things looked perfect from the outside. The ratings were through the roof. CBS had just locked in three more seasons, and the team had scored their fourth Emmy.

 But behind all that glitter, something was cracking. Costume designer Bob Mackie later spilled that Harvey Korman had turned moody and distant, snapping at people, losing his patience, and even dodging Carol backstage. A quiet storm was building, and no one saw how bad it was about to get. Many around the studio whispered that Harvey felt trapped in Carol’s shadow, afraid that her fame had completely outshone his own.

 That jealousy simmered until one unforgettable afternoon at Studio 33 in Los Angeles, when everything finally blew up. The crew was deep in rehearsal with guest star Petula Clark, who had just flown in from London. During one of Harvey’s scenes, a lighting mistake left his face hidden in shadow. Suddenly, he slammed his script down, his voice booming across the set.

 After all these years, can’t anyone get it right? The room froze. Nobody dared to breathe. Director Dave Powers rushed in trying to calm him down, but Harvey kept going, snapping that even Carol hadn’t noticed. That hit her hard, deeper than anyone realized. Carol, known for her grace and steady leadership, quietly stood from her seat in the audience.

 She walked onto the stage, calm but firm, her voice cutting through the tension. “Harvey,” she said, “I’ve had enough. If you can’t respect everyone here, you don’t need to be here.” The entire studio went dead silent. Working It was summer, and I was 18, something like that, and I I was working as an usherette, what they called, at Warner Brothers Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard.

According to Bob Mackie’s book, that moment changed everything. The laughter that once filled the set suddenly felt miles away. You could have heard a pin drop after that moment. Total silence on set. Harvey Korman just stood there, staring at Carol for a few seconds, his face frozen with shock, then quietly turned and walked right off the stage.

Nobody dared to follow him. One cameraman later remembered seeing Carol sitting alone for more than half an hour, her eyes locked on Harvey’s empty chair, whispering to herself, “I didn’t want it to end this way, but he went too far.” Only a few hours later, headlines exploded across Los Angeles. The Herald Examiner blared, “Harvey Korman leaves The Carol Burnett Show.

” CBS tried to stay quiet, giving no official comment, but the gossip spread like wildfire. Reporters at Variety claimed Carol had finally hit her limit after months of tension boiling behind the scenes. For the next three days, Hollywood couldn’t stop buzzing about it. Everyone wanted to know what really went down between these two comedy legends.

 Carol’s long-time friend and co-star Vicki Lawrence tried reaching out to Harvey, hoping to patch things up, but he didn’t answer any calls. Meanwhile, Carol kept filming as usual, never once mentioning his name on set. One crew member later said she looked calm, but completely drained, like the weight of it all had finally hit her.

Then came Wednesday morning. CBS got a surprise call, and it was Harvey. Speaking softly to the assistant, he said, “I need to talk to Carol.” When she finally picked up, his voice trembled. “I was wrong,” he said quietly. “I want to come back.” The very next day, Harvey walked into the team’s morning meeting, his head low.

 The whole crew went silent as he apologized to everyone, then turned to Carol and said, “I forgot why I started.” Carol smiled, walked over, and gave him a gentle hug. A moment that reminded everyone why their bond had been so special in the first place. The entire studio burst into applause, echoing through the walls of Studio 33.

But even as everyone cheered, those who were there could feel it. Something between Carol and Harvey had shifted forever. Harvey stayed on The Carol Burnett Show until 1977, finishing out his run quietly before moving on. Carol kept in touch with him afterward, but their once-tight friendship was never quite the same again.

In a 1983 interview with Entertainment Tonight, Carol was asked about Harvey, and she gave a small, wistful smile. “Harvey made me laugh more than anyone,” she said softly, “and gave me the biggest headaches.” That single moment summed up years of brilliance and tension between two icons. The blow up at Studio 33 became one of CBS’s most talked-about behind-the-scenes stories, a lasting reminder of how fragile creative partnerships can be when pride and pressure start to clash.

 After that storm, Carol grew tougher, sharper in her focus, and more guarded with her emotions. She refused to let personal drama interfere with her work again. But while her career soared, the real heartbreak was still waiting at home. Behind the glitz and laughter of The Carol Burnett Show, her marriage was slowly coming apart.

 Carol Burnett and her husband, Joe Hamilton, once celebrated as CBS’s golden couple, saw their world of joy begin to fade into distance and sorrow. Their story had started in 1960, back when Carol was a rising performer on The Garry Moore Show. Joe, a seasoned television producer about 10 years her senior, had already built a name for himself with The Steve Allen Show and The Colgate Comedy Hour.

They first crossed paths during a CBS taping in New York, a moment Carol never forgot. She later shared, “He looked at me in a way That one glance sparked a connection that would change both their lives, for better and for worse. Three years later, they tied the knot in a small California ceremony with just close friends and colleagues in the room.

 Simple, sweet, and low-key. By 1967, when The Carol Burnett Show premiered, Joe Hamilton was running things behind the scenes as producer, mentor, and partner, a steady force for years. They looked like the perfect creative duo. She brought warmth, he brought structure, but even success can stretch a bond thin.

 Costume designer Bob Mackie later said that by 1975, Hamilton started taking more control, and people felt the shift on set. He wanted to approve guest lists and scripts before Carol even saw them, tightening the reins in a big way. In one meeting, he pushed to cut emotional scenes and lean only on jokes, but Carol stood firm, saying viewers needed both heart and laughs.

 And that’s where the distance started to grow. As pressure kept stacking, Hamilton was home less and less, and at first Carol chalked it up to new projects and deadlines. Then the whispers started in August 1979, with TV Guide hinting that a well-known producer was involved in a private relationship Angeles editing suite.

 Careful wording, no names, but the town can read between the lines. People around the studio began noticing Hamilton spending time with a young CBS editor at the Show House restaurant near the lot, and the chatter got louder fast. Carol didn’t confront him right away, trying to keep it professional, but according to close friend Vicki Lawrence, she broke down after overhearing colleagues talk about Joe’s too-friendly relationship.

 a quiet heartbreak behind all the spotlight. The breaking point finally hit in 1982, and it was brutal. While reviewing some contracts, Carol’s lawyer uncovered a shocking detail. Joe Hamilton had quietly created his own company, Hamilton Productions, right in Beverly Hills. Even worse, he’d registered several spin-off projects from The Carol Burnett Show under his own name, including Mama’s Family, a fan-favorite sketch that came straight from Carol’s show, but without her listed as an owner.

 That was it, the final straw. Carol marched straight into their CBS office and confronted him face-to-face. According to the biography Laughing Till It Hurts, she looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Do you think it’s fair to turn what we built together into something just yours?” Joe didn’t flinch. His reply was cold and sharp.

“It’s business, Carol, not emotion.” That single line shattered everything. On March 3rd, 1983, Carol Burnett officially filed for divorce in Los Angeles County Court. The Los Angeles Times headline screamed, “Carol Burnett and Joe Hamilton split.” But behind that headline was a messy and emotional battle over fame, fortune, and ownership, one of Hollywood’s most complicated asset divisions.

 Hamilton demanded full production rights, including profits from The Carol Burnett Show and all related projects, while Carol fought hard to keep her name and half of what they’d built together. The legal fight dragged on for nearly a year, turning into a daily media spectacle. Reporters from People, Variety, and USA Today camped outside the courthouse waiting for any update.

Beside, Carol stayed composed and graceful, though those close to her said the strain showed. Hamilton, on the other hand, looked exhausted and defeated. The two barely spoke throughout the entire ordeal. Finally, in June 1984, the court ruled in Carol’s favor. She kept the rights to her show’s name, while Hamilton received 40% of syndication profits.

 When asked afterward how she felt, Carol simply smiled, calm, collected, and stronger than ever. Carol Burnett gave a faint bittersweet smile and said, “We were the best team until he forgot I was more than a partner.” That quote landed on the People magazine cover and spread like wildfire across every talk show in America.

 After the divorce, Carol cut off all ties with Hamilton’s production company, determined to move forward on her own terms. Joe’s later shows never reached the same success, and in 1991, he sadly passed away from heart disease. And the manager just says, “What’s going on here?” And this woman said, “She won’t let us sit out.

 We want to go to sit out.” And I said, “But Mr. Batten,” that was his name, Batten, I said, “I It’s Hitchcock.” Carol didn’t attend the funeral, but she sent a bouquet of white flowers with a note that read, “I wish you peace, Joe. As for me, I’ll keep going.” It was short, but packed with emotion, everything she didn’t say in person.

 Years later, during an interview at the Paley Center for Media, she reflected softly, “Joe taught me that in this business, love isn’t enough. You also need trust.” But just when fans thought they’d heard it all, another shocking story from Carol’s past resurfaced, one involving one of Hollywood’s most unpredictable legends, Marlon Brando.

 The third man on Carol’s list wasn’t just another industry name, it was Brando himself. Now, some Hollywood stories sound like wild gossip until the truth comes out. This one, though, was very real, and it left Burnett completely stunned. It all happened on a quiet summer night in July 1972. Los Angeles was still and sleepy, the hills along Coldwater Canyon softly glowing under the moonlight, where Carol lived with her two daughters.

 Around 3:00 a.m., the phone suddenly rang. Her housekeeper, thinking it was a studio emergency, rushed to wake her up. Groggy and half asleep, Carol picked up the phone and froze the moment she heard that unmistakable deep voice on the other end. “Carol,” the man said slowly, “it’s Marlon Brando.” The name alone sent a chill down her spine, because whatever came next, she knew it wasn’t going to be an ordinary call.

At first, Carol thought it had to be a prank, someone pulling her leg. But then, the man mentioned watching a rerun of The Carol Burnett Show on CBS that very night, and her heart skipped a beat. It really was Marlon Brando. She thanked him politely, expecting a quick call and goodbye, but the conversation kept going and going.

 For more than 30 minutes, Brando talked about acting, fame, and Hollywood, saying how “Television needs more women like you.” His voice grew slower, his tone softer, almost hypnotic, and his words started crossing the line. Carol later recalled, “I realized I was speaking to the real Marlon Brando, not one of his roles.

 He was charming, brilliant, but dangerous.” When his compliments began turning too personal, Carol quickly stepped in, her voice firm, yet polite. “Mr. Brando,” she said, “I appreciate your kind words, but it’s very late. I have an early call tomorrow.” She hung up, hoping that was the end of it. But by sunrise, Hollywood was on fire.

The Hollywood Reporter splashed the headline, “Marlon Brando calls Carol Burnett at 3:00 a.m.” and the Los Angeles Herald Examiner followed right after with “Brando finds inspiration in CBS’s comedy queen.” Gossip icons Louella Parsons and Rona Barrett couldn’t resist. They claimed the call lasted over an hour and hinted that Brando sounded completely smitten.

 CBS had to jump in fast, releasing a statement saying the call was entirely personal, trying to cool things down. But the damage was already done. Furious, Carol demanded her PR team shut the rumors down, but the story kept spreading like wildfire. Then, an anonymous source stirred things up even more, claiming Brando called again a few days later, though this time Carol refused to pick up.

 According to her friend Vicki Lawrence, the whole ordeal left Carol feeling humiliated and furious, terrified that the public might twist the story into something it wasn’t. It was supposed to be just one strange late-night call. But in Hollywood, even a single phone ring can turn into a scandal that refuses to die.

 A few days later, over lunch at the legendary Musso and Frank Grill, Carol finally opened up to a close friend about what had happened. “He crossed the line,” she said quietly. “I can’t believe someone like Marlon Brando thinks a late-night call like that is okay.” Her frustration was clear. The whole thing had left her shaken and embarrassed.

From that night on, she made sure to keep her distance. At every event, she was careful not to cross paths with him. During the 1974 AFI Awards, when Brando unexpectedly showed up on the red carpet, Carol immediately turned away and slipped out of camera view. Reporters brushed it off as coincidence, but insiders knew the truth.

 It was all deliberate. According to a former CBS staffer quoted in Hollywood Inside Out, her PR team even began adding a quiet note to her monthly schedule, “Do not attend events with Brando present.” It was never made public, but everyone behind the scenes knew Carol was serious about avoiding him for good. Brando himself never spoke publicly about the situation, though friends later claimed he once brushed it off, joking, “Carol takes things too seriously. It was just a conversation.

” But instead of easing tension, that remark only made things worse. It painted him as arrogant and dismissive, while Carol came across as the one trying to protect her dignity in a town that often forgot what boundaries even meant. For her, it wasn’t just about feeling insulted, it was about trust and respect in show business.

 That night taught her a lifelong lesson about drawing clear lines, both personally and professionally. One former crew member later revealed that from that moment on, Carol refused to answer any phone calls after midnight, not even from CBS executives. But as much as she tried to protect her peace, the next blow would hit even harder.

 This time, it wouldn’t be a private embarrassment, it would be a public humiliation in front of hundreds of Hollywood’s biggest stars. And the man responsible, none other than Cary Grant, who dared to mock Carol Burnett’s signature humor right to her face. Hollywood in 1968 was dripping with glamour, champagne flowing, flash bulbs popping, and egos larger than life.

 The Carol Burnett Show had exploded into a full-blown television sensation, sweeping the Emmys and cementing Carol as one of TV’s brightest new stars. That same year, Cary Grant, the picture-perfect symbol of golden age charm, was being honored with a lifetime achievement award from the Hollywood Foreign Press Association.

 Two legends, two eras, they should have crossed paths just to exchange polite congratulations and move on. But that night inside the Beverly Hilton’s International Ballroom, a single careless remark sparked a feud that would quietly simmer for decades. The ballroom glittered with Hollywood royalty, Lucille Ball, Gregory Peck, Elizabeth Taylor, Jack Lemmon, every seat filled with icons. Last 5 minutes.

I said, “It’s going to start all over again in about 10 minutes. Get some popcorn, go to the bathroom, go to the No, you can’t Carol arrived looking stunning in a deep red Bob Mackie gown that shimmered under the lights. Confident and glowing, she was ready to celebrate and pay her respects to one of her heroes.

After the ceremony, she approached Cary Grant’s table, champagne glass in hand, smiling warmly. According to film critic Roger Ebert, who was there that night, the mood around the table shifted the second she walked up. Trying to keep things light, a director sitting beside Grant joked, “Have you seen Carol’s show? The whole country loves it.

” Grant looked up slowly, gave a faint smirk, and delivered a line that stopped everyone cold. With his trademark smooth tone, but laced with clear mockery, he said, “Oh, that show. The one where she waves her arms, makes faces, and overacts. I don’t understand why people enjoy that sort of thing.” The air in the room changed instantly. Carol froze.

 The laughter around the table died, and even the orchestra seemed to quiet down for a second. What should have been a friendly moment between two Hollywood icons had just turned into something icy. A sharp reminder that in a town built on charm and performance, even one cruel sentence could cut deeper than any script ever written.

 Cary Grant’s comment hit the ballroom like a brick in a quiet pond. Instant shockwaves everywhere. Some guests let out nervous laughs, others went dead silent, and Carol kept her smile even as her eyes changed. Cool, steady, unshaken. Without raising her voice, she delivered the cleanest clapback. “Maybe people prefer laughing with real folks rather than with perfection.” Boom.

 The table froze as her words landed, and Carol gave a polite nod before walking away, leaving Grant stuck with a tight smile he couldn’t shake off. Hollywood never lets a moment like that slide, and 2 days later the Los Angeles Times ran a brief titled Cary Grant and Carol Burnett, A Frosty Encounter at the Beverly Hilton.

 Short, but sharp, hinting he’d look down on her grounded style. The story ripped through town fast. Some defended Grant as just joking, but TV viewers, especially women, weren’t having it. CBS moved quick and classy with a pointed note, dropping a line that said it all. “Carol Burnett represents humor that is humane and intelligent.” Then they doubled down.

“Laughter born from empathy, not foolishness.” Everyone knew who that was aimed at. Carol kept quiet, but Grant fanned the flames in a chat with Variety’s Art Silverman, taking a swipe at TV comedy without naming names. The subtext wasn’t subtle. When asked about American TV humor, he said, “I prefer a more refined humor.

” Then came the follow-up that made it louder. “Something closer to the European style television these days tries too hard to be funny.” No direct callout, but the message was crystal. Tabloids went even further, claiming he told Carol to her face that she made comedy lose its elegance. Unconfirmed, but the rumor sprinted across town and fired up her fans.

 In the span of a week, a handshake moment turned into a headline saga, and Carol walked away calm, sharp, and unbothered in public. By November 1968, CBS reported that viewer letters had doubled, and almost every single one was cheering for Carol. Fans admired how calm she stayed through the whole mess. No interviews, no gossip, no comebacks.

She just kept her head high and went right back to work. That same season, The Carol Burnett Show hit its highest ratings ever, proving that her grace under pressure was her biggest power move. To celebrate the show’s momentum, she invited her close friend, comedy queen Lucille Ball, to co-star in a special episode.

 Lucille later shared, “Carol told me the best response is when they turn on the TV and still see us there.” That was Carol’s way of saying success speaks louder than drama. Still, she never completely forgot that awkward night at the Beverly Hilton. When Paramount Pictures later offered her a co-starring role with Cary Grant in a 1970 musical, she politely declined, citing scheduling conflicts.

But according to a close friend, her private words were much more revealing. “I won’t work with someone who looks down on women’s laughter.” Grant, for his part, never apologized or spoke publicly about the incident again. Yet in Graham McCann’s biography, Cary Grant, A Class Apart, it’s mentioned that Grant once admitted privately, “Carol is such a smart, strong woman.

She made me feel uneasy.” That confession said it all. Ironically, his condescension only fueled Carol’s fire. She doubled down on her mission, portraying real, everyday people on screen. Housewives, maids, secretaries, seamstresses, characters with big hearts and simple lives, the kind of folks Hollywood usually overlooked.

 Within just 3 years, she had three consecutive Emmys, and The Carol Burnett Show was officially named one of TV Guide’s most iconic American programs. From that experience, Carol carried one powerful truth. You don’t need to argue, let your success do the talking. But as her fame climbed even higher, not everyone in Hollywood was cheering.

 Behind the smiles and handshakes, some powerful men were starting to feel uneasy, and Carol Burnett’s rising star was beginning to threaten the old Hollywood order. One of those powerful figures who seemed rattled by Carol’s success was none other than Lorne Michaels, the man behind Saturday Night Live. For years, Carol quietly accused him of dismissing women and deliberately leaving her out of the SNL spotlight.

It’s one of television’s strangest and most puzzling snubs. How could the Carol Burnett, a comedy trailblazer who paved the way for women on TV, never once be invited to host Saturday Night Live in nearly 50 years? It just didn’t add up. To understand why, you have to rewind to 1975, the year SNL premiered live from Studio 8H inside Rockefeller Plaza.

 At that very moment, The Carol Burnett Show was in its eighth season, dominating CBS as the highest-rated variety show in America. Carol stood for heartfelt, character-driven humor, sketches filled with warmth, relatability, and soul. Meanwhile, Lorne Michaels was building a new kind of comedy, sharper, edgier, and soaked in political bite.

 At the time, critics like Harriet Van Horne from the New York Post suggested that having Carol host SNL would be perfect, a symbolic bridge between two eras of comedy. It sounded like a harmless idea, but behind the scenes, it marked the beginning of a long, cold silence between Burnett and Michaels, one that would stretch for decades.

 Inside NBC, Carol’s name actually came up during early meetings for season 2 in 1976, but according to several insiders, Lorne allegedly shut the idea down fast, saying, “She doesn’t fit the spirit of the show.” That comment stung, especially coming from someone who claimed to value innovation.

 In the tell-all book Live from New York, Back Bay Books, 2002, one editor even recalled Michaels referring to Burnett dismissively as “the face of old television, and we’re doing something new.” It was a sharp jab that revealed more than just creative differences. It hinted at ego, control, and a deep unwillingness to share the spotlight with the very woman who made sketch comedy a household staple long before SNL ever hit the air.

That single comment from Lorne Michaels lit a fire that burned for years. By 1981, whispers had turned into full-blown rumors, and journalist Tom Shales poured gasoline on the flame when he wrote in The Washington Post that Carol Burnett had tried several times to host Saturday Night Live, but never got a single reply.

 The article set off outrage across the country. Hundreds of fans flooded NBC with letters asking why one of America’s most beloved comedians, a woman who literally helped shape TV sketch comedy, was being ignored. A week later, NBC tried to calm the storm with a vague, carefully worded statement. “Guest hosts are chosen based on each season’s content and tone.

” But nobody bought it. Most people believed Carol had been quietly snubbed, not for lack of talent, but because she didn’t fit the new image SNL was chasing. In reality, Carol never publicly asked to host the show, but insiders close to her claimed she always felt dismissed by the network. During a late 1980s appearance on Larry King Live, when the topic came up, she smiled with gentle irony and said, “Maybe I’m just not edgy enough for them.

” Her tone was calm, but her words carried the weight of years of quiet rejection. Those who worked with Michaels painted a clear picture. He was unyielding about what SNL stood for, young, rebellious, ironic, everything opposite of Carol’s heartfelt, human-style comedy. A former editor told Rolling Stone in 1990 that Michaels had even turned down a major sponsor’s push to include Carol in the show’s 10th anniversary special.

His reasoning? “We respect her, but that’s not our kind of comedy.” That single remark locked the door for good, and everyone knew it. By 1991, the cold tension between them was legendary. At a Television Academy event in Los Angeles, both were scheduled to speak. Journalist Bill Carter of The New York Times later described the atmosphere.

When Carol Burnett walked on stage, the entire audience rose to their feet in thunderous applause. Minutes later, when Lorne Michaels took the microphone, Carol stayed seated, smiling faintly. Her eyes steady on the camera. It was silent, subtle, and powerful. A classy reminder that sometimes silence speaks louder than any punchline ever could.

The clip from that Television Academy night quickly aired on Entertainment Tonight, and viewers everywhere dubbed it the coldest look in Hollywood. Carol’s quiet stare became iconic, a moment that said more than a thousand interviews ever could. For years, the story faded into the background, just another piece of Hollywood legend, until 2023, when NBC decided to celebrate her legacy with a grand tribute special, Carol Burnett: 90 Years of Laughter Plus Love.

During a sit-down with The Hollywood Reporter promoting the event, one journalist dared to ask the question everyone had wondered for decades. Did she regret never hosting Saturday Night Live? Carol gave a gentle smile, poised, graceful, and sharp as ever, and replied, “I guess they didn’t need me, but I didn’t need them, either.

” That one line cracked open 50 years of silence and set the internet ablaze. Within 24 hours, social media exploded. The hashtag #InviteCarolToSNL went viral, with thousands of fans demanding that NBC finally give her the spotlight she had been denied for half a century. People across generations united online, praising her humility, her humor, and that unmatched grace that never faded.

 A few weeks later, during a panel at the Paley Center for Media, Carol reflected on everything with her signature calm wisdom. “Some people don’t realize,” she said softly, “that kindness has its own kind of power.” Those words summed up her entire legacy. Proof that dignity lasts longer than controversy ever could. After that, Carol slowly stepped back from the spotlight, appearing less frequently on television, choosing instead to protect the timeless image she had built.

 But destiny wasn’t done with her yet. A new opportunity was waiting, one that would connect her with a dream she’d held for years. Though it would soon turn into one of the most painful chapters of her career. And if you’ve been hooked by Carol Burnett’s incredible journey through Hollywood’s highs and heartbreaks, don’t forget to like, subscribe, share, and drop a comment below.