DJ AM

[not that I need to explain myself...EVER, but I decided to honor the passing of DJ AM in a manner more consistent with what you might expect from a fellow DJ]

Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies

Terri Schiavo's Dad Dies
World's Oldest Dog Dies
Terri Schiavo's Dad Dies
World's Oldest Dog Dies

Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies
Disc jockey DJ AM dies

Korean Actress Dies
Bunnymen Keyboardist Dies
Korean Actress Dies
Bunnymen Keyboardist Dies

Bunnymen Keyboardist Dies
Bunnymen Drummer Dies

Travis Barker Lives

Teddy Kennedy

This one reminds me of the recent "Uncle Walter" death, where the big papers had already written and spit-shined the man's obituary months back. And with good reason. If you recall last spring and last fall, I doubt many of us thought the youngest Kennedy would be with us for even this long. But, we put it out of our mind, and kind of moved on. Maybe he would beat the cancer after all, serve another ten years, and break the record. But, no, he didn't. As they say, death and taxes (a topic Mr. Kennedy certainly knew a thing or two about) are inevitable.

I was lamenting the fact that I had to work tonight on the Teddy Kennedy obit, and my oldest daughter, Cameron asked "Who's he? Did he work for you?" And I suppose he sort of did.

I grew up in a lower middle class Democratic household, and was well versed in the obvious distinctions between Democrats and Republicans. The Democratic Party was the working class party that fights for the little guy and the Republican Party was the "money" party. And it's as simple as that. So, yeah, Ted Kennedy spent his whole career working for me.

My Irish mother was about as working class as it gets, and a big fan of the Kennedys. But, even she admitted that young Teddy was "damaged goods." It was the whole Chappaquiddick thing. I went so far as to write a report about it in high school. It all went down in 1969, and rather than write about the moon landing or Woodstock, I chose Chappaquiddick. I suppose I have always been a tad perverse. I have an extremely visceral memory of pouring through reel after reel of microfishe, reading authentic articles from the time. Damn, I wish I still had that paper.

I distinctly remember an old SNL skit, where the 1980 candidates were all doing domestic chores in an Iowa home. One of the big punchlines came when Teddy, played by Bill Murray, offered to drive the daughter home. You want longevity? How's this. TK was impersonated by FIVE different SNL actors over the years, starting with Murray and most recently Will Ferrell. That might be a record. But think about it. Who else has been in the public eye for that many years? Queen Elizabeth, for one. But she isn't tragically funny like our dearly departed Massachusetts senator.

What more is there to know about a man whose life was so well documented? (Beautiful piece by the globe, I mean...hats off!) I found a neato interactive map of his relationships and interrelationships. Speaking of interrelationships, he once was one third of a sandwich with Chris Dodd and a DC-area waitress. His first wife, Joan, is a notorious alcoholic and DUI collector. He was expelled from Harvard for cheating on a Spanish test. He rather famously couldn't answer the Roger Mudd question, "Why do you want to be president?" But there's a lot of good too. He had a wonderful working relationship with Utah Republican senator and songwriter Orrin Hatch. He was a noted sailor up on the Cape. He loved dogs and in fact, his dog "wrote" a book.

Oh, and one final related thought on the "Singing Senator." My old friend, Glenn White, observed on Facebook today "The Dead Kennedys announce a new band member." Ok, a little twisted, but hey, why not take this moment and reflect on perhaps one of the best band names of all time?

Bob Novak

You never know. Bob Novak might kick-start a late summer celebrity death parade the same way that Ed McMahon really shook up the cosmic karma two months back. Only time will tell.

Good ole' Bob Novak. He was one of many "talking heads" that I grew up with. And, I have to say, for me, he is most remembered as the guy who replaced Pat Buchanon on Crossfire. I was a huge Crossfire fan as a teenager and I fondly remember watching it on the smallish television in the living room, which replaced the humongous "furniture" TV in the living room. For a person who truly revels in shades of gray, Crossfire was testament to the fact that nobody was necessarily right (pun intended) or wrong. It was just a matter of how you saw things.

And, before I go any further, it's important for me to give pause and shine a little light on one Tom Braden, the left-leaning ying to Mssrs. Buchanon and Novak's yang. He passed on April 3, of this year, about two weeks before I started this blog. What is interesting about him -- apart from what I felt like was the penultimate alcoholic face -- is that he wrote the memoir that led to the famous seventies television series, Eight is Enough, staring Willie Ames, who most recently attempted suicide. Probably my favorite Eight is Enough is the melodramatic Christmas two-part episode where Tommy, played by Mr. Ames, receives a gift from the grave, from his deceased mother. As I child, I was touched by this.

Oh my, where did I go? Only I can go from Bob Novak to an mid-seventies Christmas special. While we remain in tangential land, the most endearing episode of Crossfire that receives the most hits on the InterWeb is the one that featured Frank Zappa, discussing censorship. A free Celebituary T-Shirt to whoever can name the song that they are discussing at the onset of the show.

But, I think it would be unfair to hi-jack Mr. Novak's final goodbye what with talk of Willie Ames and Frank Zappa. Just before he was diagnosed with the tumor, he hit a pedestrian with his Corvette. In retrospect, it was probably due to the tumor.

Here's a nice moment from the past, where he gets frustrated with a co-host and calls him an asshole.

Other moments. Mr. Novak, you might remember was at the center of the whole "Plame Game" blown cover hoopla that transpired three years ago. He was criticized as an "unpatriotic conservative" for his anti-Iraq war stance. Sounds like Bobby probably took the right stance, after all.

A parting shot? Watch here as Mr. Novak walk off, stage right (natch) to the sound of The Clash. Isn't the Internet something?

Les Paul

[editor's note: When I heard about old Les, I put out an APB to all the axe men in my life. And, no I'm not talking about teen and pre-teen boys. One Brett Minieri answered the call, and wrote this baby like only a fellow guitarist could. Welcome to Celebituary, Brett]

Sure 92% of men and 101% of all women couldn't recognize Les Paul if he bludgeoned them over the head with a guitar bearing his very name. Doesn't matter. To truly gauge a man's life, you begin with his legacy. Like Einstein and Thomas Crapper, their contributions to society are far greater than any social (or celebrity) impact they may have had. Such is the case with LP.

As it happens, Les Paul had an incredibly prolific career and did many amazing things. Not one of which was more important than inventing the iconic single-cut electric 6-string instrument that would bear his name. By doing so he armed some of the greatest musicians and soon-to-be rock gods with one of the most important and influential tools in rock and roll history.

Can you visualize Jimmy Page prancing around on stage at MSG pretending some dinky Gretsch or Rickenbacker is his phallus? Of course not. Or the idea of Jeff Beck’s classic Wired being recorded with anything less than his ’58 Black top? Hells no. What about Joe Perry or Ace Frehley or Duane Allman or Slash…you get the idea.

Ever realize how many classic rock songs reference a “Les Paul?” At least a dozen…that shortlist includes bands like Aerosmith, Great White and Sammy Hagar just to name a few.

And one final piece of recognition for an often unnoticed contribution to rock/pop culture; it was he – not Cher or Madonna or Donovan to adopt a single name. And as far as being an icon…well even Prince’s “symbol” can’t touch Les Paul’s 9lb 6oz flamed mahogany beauty as a more singular symbol of what its like to truly be culturally relevant.

Did we know him intimately? No. Will we all miss his legacy? Absolutely, if not unknowingly.

R.I.P. Les Paul.

John Hughes

OK, I'm back in the game. In my humble opinion, the past week has been one of the slower ones in recent memory.

Yes, there was that famous dancer.
There was Time's Woman of the Year in 1986.
And how about the screenwriter who wrote "On the Waterfront?"
Then there's England's beloved manager from their 1990 World Cup semi-final appearance.
And how could I leave out the 'sweater zombie' from Day of the Dead?

But none of them captivated my imagination. And who knows? Perhaps I just needed a break. A Vacation, if you will.

John Hughes. Well, that death cannot go unnoticed. I feel blessed to be a member of perhaps the one generation that truly has its own canon of movies. Sixteen Candles. Breakfast Club. Pretty in Pink. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. See, when my kids ask me what it was like growing up in the eighties, I can just refer them to these films -- classics, every single one of them!

You want a memory? I remember standing in line to see Pretty in Pink at the old twin theaters back behind Town & Country Plaza. Pensacola people, ya' feelin' me? I remember when Molly Ringwald said "They Fucking Forgot My Birthday!" My mouth popped open and I looked at one of my friends, probably Ed Spears. See, Sixteen Candles was rated PG, and she said "Fuck," and you're not supposed to say that in a PG movie, at least none that I had ever seen. The next year, whadda ya know, the PG-13 rating comes out. I'm pretty sure that line was a big contributor to the whole movement.

I go could on and on about Sixteen Candles. "Girl's Underpants!" That really was the ultimate prize back in the day -- maybe still is, but I feel like kids have moved beyond that. I'm not sure whether I got into the R rated "Breakfast Club" or I had to wait for the video, but God Damn!, another amazingly quotable, well written masterpiece. Then, there was Bueller, which pretty much contributed to a nationwide rise in "skip days" in high schools, I'm sure of it.

Hell, I even liked Uncle Buck, which I recall seeing in college with my roommates. The "melanoma head" scene made me laugh out loud then and it makes me laugh out loud now.

Hughes made me cry with the whole Kevin Bacon not knowing if Elizabeth McGovern was going to make it or not in "She's Having a Baby." The Kate Bush song there, not sure if that was John's call, excellent choice.

Damn, so many Hughes memories. So many.

So, here's the strange serendipity part of the whole story. Recently, my kids have been consuming Beethoven movies like ice cream. It's pretty much been the summer of Beethoven. For those who don't know, and don't click on my painstakingly researched hyperlinks, Beethoven is a series of movies about a huge dog. Who wrote those films? Come to find out it was Edmond Dantès, which is the pseudonym of one John Hughes.

Hughes dropped out of sight in 1994, still writing, but not directing anymore. Speaking of directing, this is my favorite Hughes story. The entire film, Breakfast Club was conceived by the writer Hughes, as a way for him to get into directing. He had never directed before. Never been on a set, even. So, what does he do? He writes a film with a limited number of actors, who are mostly kids (easier to direct), with a limited number of shots (easier to direct). Talk about making your own luck!

Well, I could sing the praises of Mr. Hughes for days, but I do have a format to keep to. I'll leave you with one of Hughes earlier works, as a pure writer for National Lampoon. It's about a boy who wakes up one day with a vagina. OK, not fair to women,..um men...um..I'm confused. Here. Here's the opposite story, also written by John.

Oh, God, good st