"It’s good to be king."

Mel Brooks actually said that, quoting himself, to a sold-out show Saturday night at the Riverside. Based on the remarkable stories, the adoring reception and the super-human energy from this soon-to-be 90-year-old film legend, I believe him.

"True story," he said over and over again. With a life lived as richly as Brooks, why lie?

"I don’t know what you paid," said Brooks, humbly, "but you’re getting your money’s worth, because I’m telling you things no one has even heard before."

And that was much more than just "Blazing Saddles" anecdotes, although this crowd roared through film, quoting lines like it was "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" before Brooks came up and spoke. "Spoke" isn't the right word. He dazzled, really, for a good hour to our rapt attention. Of course, I brought my dad tonight, who introduced me to "Blazing Saddles" and Mel Brooks. I could see that he was just as happy as I was to be in the presence of brilliance.

I’m not exaggerating when I say this was one of the best live performances I’ve ever experienced.

When he spoke, Brooks paid emotional homage to the wonderful cast of the 1974 groundbreaking film. Today is actually the birthday of Milwaukee’s own Gene Wilder, but he shared stories of the amazing actors and writers who have passed, like Madeline Kahn, Slim Pickens, Cleavon Little, Harvey Korman and Richard Pryor. Some of these stories I had heard over the years, but many I had not.

For example, Brooks talked about the scene between Bart and Lili that ended up on the cutting room floor: "But you’re sucking on my arm" was the punchline that was too dirty even for him.

The moderator, who barely had a chance to moderate – mostly because Brooks was content engaging the audience and just plain sharing – asked Brooks his favorite line from the movie. The one that still makes him (and me) laugh: "Someone has to go back and get a shitload of dimes."

Brooks also explained the side-splitting fart scene at the campfire: the writers soaped up their hands and fake-farted under their armpits. "The high (pitched) ones, that’s me," he said, giggling. The memories kept coming and coming, all with remarkable and crystal clarity.

But Brooks also shared something really insightful about "Blazing Saddles," my favorite movie of all time. "When you satirize something, the background has to be etched perfectly," he said. While I’ve seen that film 50 times, on the big screen at the Riverside, tonight I could pay special attention to the details – and Brooks was right. He made "Blazing Saddles" authentically, and 42 years after its release, we saw that it holds up oh so well.

Beyond "Blazing Saddles," the magic of tonight’s performance was how a man born in 1926 can recall details from his early childhood (like peeing from his Brooklyn window and his mother’s choice for apartment paint colors) then immediately and effortlessly transition into waxing poetically about a bygone era in Hollywood history. He didn’t sit down for more than five minutes at a time. When he did, he pretended to sleep and did a perfectly-timed spit take. We gobbled it up and wanted more.

And we got more. The audience heard nuggets about the Borscht Belt, his other works, his friendship with Sid Caesar and a dozen seemingly random memories that still connected in the end. Unfortunately, the selected questions were more about his shoe size and boxer or briefs ("Depends," he shouted without missing a beat). No one touched on his marriage to Anne Bancroft or his life-long friendship with with Carl Reiner.

But that’s OK. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Brooks or the audience, which was rather diverse in age, but unfortunately devoid of any African Americans that I could see – and "Blazing Saddles" was such a trail-blazing comedy in terms of race relations. For his part, Brooks’ mind remains sharp as a tack, and in a suit and tie, he bounded around the stage like a man half his age.

Brooks seems like the kind of man who will live forever, and even though he’s the consummate showman, he certainly acted and made us believe like he wanted to be in Milwaukee on this hot and steamy night. At 90, why wouldn’t he only do the things he wants to do in life?

Brooks was authentic, sweet, and a little off-color tonight – like a beloved grandfather deservedly relishing in his many accomplishments.

"I’m giddy with happiness today," he said, looking out to the crowd.

Me, too, Mel. Me, too.