Barbara Billingsely and Benoit Mandelbrot

OK -- I have decided to get back in the game. My hiatus started when I missed the Steinbrenner death and I just couldn't bring myself to look at another obituary. It's not that I was sad about George Steinbrenner. I just got burned out on this whole thing.

But Barbara Billingsely deserves this. I had the great privilege of being alive when "leave it to Beaver" reruns were still in rotation. She's the ultimate Mom persona. Doesn't really exist, but it sure would be great if she did.

My children can't seem to sit through anything black and white for more than five minutes, which is a darn shame. I blame it on all the amazing colors available in the world, best portrayed through Benoit Mandelbrot's fractals.

Yes, it's equally a sad day for mathematicians around the world, as old Benoit (I never knew is first name until today) died from pancreatic cancer. For nearly seven decades Mandelbrot worked with dozens of scientists and made contributions in fields such as geology, medicine, cosmology and engineering. He used fractal geometry to explain how galaxies are grouped, how the price of cereals or how the mammalian brain is multiplied as it grows. Pretty powerful stuff, and it looks terrific on a T-shirt!

Dennis, Rue, Kazuo, and John

Gary Coleman took everything I could give. Being a worldwide authority on the topic, I would have to say the Gary Coleman - Dennis Hopper double whammy was probably the biggest since Farrah and Michael did their strange duet last summer. It's been hard for me to shake the sad and bizarre life that Gary made for himself. And the saddest part is that all that will ever come of this is a lame-o TV movie. I wish I had the wherewithal to pull together an epic film on the life of Gary Coleman, but I just don't think there would be much interest.

Dennis Hopper. That's an easy one. For me, his role as Frank Booth in Blue Velvet is all I need. If you haven't seen it, rent the movie. The "Pabst Blue Ribbon" line was something that Thelton and I used to say to each other back in the day. Thelton and I lived in an apartment complex known as "The Gathering." It was quite popular, but never my cup of tea, even though I lived there. We had two other roommates and the chemistry was never terrific. My Datsun was demolished there. Not by an accident. But by a mob of students. I had been away in New York for a good month, and the car was a piece of shit, but it certainly worked. So, I get back from an extended vacation in NY, and the car was all fucked up by who knows who at a wild party. Windows smashed. Car up on the curve. I like to think that perhaps Frank Booth was the ringleader of the festivities.

Rue Mcclanahan. I am somewhat proud to say that this is my second "Golden Girl" in the history of Celebituary. As I recall, of all the Golden Girls, she had the most sex appeal. There were probably some Betty White fans out there (and still are), but for my money Rue was the hottest Golden Girl. Who's with me on that?

Kazuo Ohno. If you don't know him, Google him. My first significant girlfriend, Alyson was a dance major, and through her I developed an interest in modern dance. I was really bummed that I let Merce Cunningham pass me by due to a busy calendar.  So, I really don't have a meaningful Kazuo Ohno memory, but I do have a lot of Florida State Dance Department memories. It was an awesome scene. And, one that I regret I never got more involved in. Maybe one of my kids will be a dance major. But, Kaz, Merce...here's to you.

And last but certainly not least, ...John Wooden. Well there is some substance, huh. See for me, it's pretty straightforward. John Wooden was always this old guy sitting in the stands. And the announcers would speak of him in glowing terms. So, in other words, my entire frame of reference with John W. revolves around his legendary status. I never saw the man coach. I never watched him in a post game interview. I never  saw him in the background pacing the sidelines while the Bruins played.

For all I know, everyone could be making it all up.

Of course, they aren't. But all I am saying is that I only know stories of his greatness. Now, contrast that with Yogi Berra, who has been more or less retired throughout my conscious lifetime. He's not just this guy in the stands. He's vital. No disrespect, Wooden.

Jose, Paul, Art, Pat, and Gary

What a week, really. For me, the multiple jobs thing is starting to take its toll. Don't get me wrong, business is good. Great, actually. I'm just a tad over-committed. My phone rings all the time. I'm either working late, "sleep working," where I lay on the couch laptop open and intermittently peck away between naps, or I wake up at 4 and crank out a deck or whatever. I love what I do. Really. I just need a small vacation.

So I feel bad. I sat on the Jose Lima death until it was no longer relevant. Then Paul Gray of Slipknot kicks it and I'm thinking - well that would be a nice two-fer, but I had too much work work. Then Linkletter came across and it was just getting ridiculous. Pat Stevens would have broken the bank, were it not for Gary Coleman on the same day.

I have mixed feelings about putting Gary Coleman in a "class." He really deserves his own Cel-o-bit. But, it's just how the week went down. To do a Gary Coleman feature would be to ignore all these other cats, and it just ain't right, ya know?

So, what about Lima? Colorful guy. Dominant on the mound every now and then. I have been a member of the East Norwalk Diamond Association fantasy baseball league since 2001, and I went and researched his AL years to try to see if I ever "owned" him. Alas, I did not.

Paul Gray? Here's the thing about Paul. I never knew the first thing about him until the day he died. Have I been a fan of Slipknot? Positively -- frankly since the beginning. And, while I always knew they had a bassist (who doesn't?), I never knew the dude's name. 

So, check this out. I'm in a "nice" Ford Taurus on the way to Covington, GA. They comped me XM Radio. So, I fiddled around -- and low and behold I see the words "Paul Gray Guest DJ" on one of the channels. Turns out, Mr. Green did a spot as a guest metal DJ back in 2006, and they had the recording. The main thing I learned about Paul was that he likes to say "Fuckin'" a lot, and he happened to have a pretty serious lisp. So, there you go. As for the set, it was a lot of fun. He played some MegaDeth, some Judas Priest, oh, and some Slipknot. The Slipknot song was "Metabolic" from the Iowa album and Paul made a joke about how nobody plays it, so it was his ASCAP gift to himself and the bandmates. So, if you want to salute Paul Green over the Memorial Day holiday, play Metabolic for him.

I have to say, for me Art Linkletter really wasn't all that relevant to me. Different generation. I hate to give the guy short shrift, but he really doesn't mean a whole lot to me next to erratic pitchers, metal bassists, and voice talent.

Enter Pat Stevens. Not the one you're thinking of. This woman was the voice of Velma, among other things. And for being the voice of Velma and coining the phrase "Jinkies," you get your own star on my perverse walk of fame. I don't have a specific Velma recollection, other than realizing at an early age that she was decidedly not attractive. Unlike Gilligin's Island and its "Ginger / Marianne" debate -- there is no such thing in Scooby Doo land. It's all Daphne, and Velma is far down the list.

So that brings us to the headliner, the showstopper. The icon of tragic child stars. The one and the only Gary Coleman.

I just lost thirty minutes of my life trying to track down the Different Strokes promos that introduced the world to Gary Coleman. They were mock press conferences with Gary coming off as really smart and beyond his years. If someone finds them, let me know.

Of all the seventies sitcoms, Different Strokes seems to be encircled with the most mythology. There's the whole "Curse" thing what with the tragic lives of Gary, Dana, and Todd. I believe the curse is so sticky because the tragic arc of these individuals is so radically different than the characters they portrayed. They were all so damn cute, how could they possibly be on drugs, prostitute themselves, steal things. It was all so dissonant.

In particular, Gary Coleman has made a career out of being a pathetic has-been. Corey Haim has nothing on Gary Coleman.

I actually remember the beginnings of Gary as "famous for being famous." One of my friends from the Modem Media San Francisco office, had to be Cloud, called me and said "you'll never guess who is in our office repping a Web site....Gary Coleman."

The walls of my innocent boobtube childhood were shattered. Arnold Jackson was not supposed to be at the Modem San Fran office. He was supposed to be cute and on my television. It was the end of my innocence. I really never got used to Gary as the guy just trying to make it, trading off his childhood celebrity.

Wow, that was well over ten years ago, and Gary has been at it ever since. Several lame promotional gigs, notorious media blow-ups, even an appearance on Divorce Court. This was the tragic Gary we all know and love today.

Even though I trade in this business, for my money I'll take little Gary, er...rather child Gary. Like Art Linkletter, I don't have much use for Gary Coleman 2.

Ronnie James Dio

After all these 2fers and 3fers, it's refreshing just to settle down and do a nice, single obit. I decided to steer clear of the whole lacrosse thing. I'm not really sure how I possibly have any right to take the high ground, but sometimes it just doesn't feel right, ya know?

But Dio is easy. Dio is familiar. Dio is relevant.

I came to Black Sabbath after the Ozzy years, and I remember buying "Mob Rules" probably at K-Mart, but I forget. It was a long time ago. For me, the Dio-led Sabbath was the only Sabbath I knew. I even bought the live album. That was an album cover I spent a good deal of time with. They decided to depict a cast of characters that represented classic Sabbath songs. "Paranoid." "War Pigs." "Children of the Sea." It's one of the things that I miss about album art. The good ones always gave you something to sink your teeth into.

But, for me, as much as I enjoyed the Sabbath work, it was really the second Dio album, "The Last in Line," that resonated with me. The title track is probably one of my favorite metal songs, and a great example of utilizing dynamics to great effect. The video was most excellent too. At least I thought so. I watched it again, and it hasn't really held up well. The video arcade shots are downright embarrassing. Well, what are you gonna do? It was the eighties after all.

Enjoy the campiness that is "The Last in Line" video. And, remember, if you ever end up in a bizarro underworld, be sure to pull the plastic tubing out of the main bad guy's neck.

Rest in peace, Dio.

Lynn Redgrave, Lena Horne, and Phil Pagano

An old friend, and contributor to this blog, Peter Knierim has always been a big follower of the whole "celebrities die in batches of three" concept. While sometimes this is eerily accurate, it really depends on how you look at it.

Now that I am a worldwide authority on such matters, I can say that if I wanted to, there are at least three interesting people I could write about each day. So, really it's just the lens that you assign to it. Such was the case with this new "triple" which only could be manufactured by someone like me.

I had been meaning to "do" Lynn Redgrave for, well over a week now. But I just kept putting it off. There's a risk associated with that, as sooner or later the death becomes irrelevant, which is a real pity.

But then Lena Horne really forced my hand. I couldn't NOT do Lena, but I still had the backlog of Lynn Redgrave. Oh, and I am as busy as ever. In fact, I am seriously pushing a deadline by taking the time to write this. What are you supposed to say to your customer?

"I'm sorry I don't have that copy deck as promised, but, in case you missed it, Lena Horne died."

It just doesn't hold water. So, I will get all "meta" with these folks and fold three separate lives and stories together into one tight, photo-filled entry and get back to bread winning.

Being into death, celebrity death, and irony how could I possibly ignore Phil Pagano's passing? And interweaving his demise with two female icons of stage and music, well that was just even weirder.

For those who don't know Phil, he was the allegedly corrupt Chicago Metra director who went and threw himself in front of one of his trains on Friday.

I used to work in East Norwalk, CT right by the train station there and we had a similar thing happen a couple years back.

A recently fired Fairfield guy did the same thing. Huge commotion. Big mess. The whole event was unforgettable and quite disturbing. No, I didn't see it happen. In fact, I was out-to-lunch and came back to the office only to see the whole aftermath. I really felt bad for the gentleman and his family. What a spectacular way to go! You have to like attention, at least a little bit, to put yourself in that situation. Or, maybe it's just efficacy. A speeding train will most certainly do the trick. Or convenience. In many urban / suburban markets, trains are very available.

Thinking too much about it, just makes you want to sing the blues, or perhaps watch a light-hearted romantic comedy on Hallmark Channel. See, I didn't forget about Lynn and Lena. But, in the relevance game, big Phil hit home just a tad more than these accomplished divas.

OK, back to work.

Peter Steele V. Guru

It's actually a rare occasion when stars from "my generation" pass prematurely. There has been a lag since the last double -- and frankly this was almost a triple with that Athiest dude who flipped over to God at the very end.

But I had to do my own Run DMC / Aerosmith thing, only much darker. Let's start with Peter Steele from Type O Negative.

I had an extremely visceral experience shopping tor CDs back in the mid nineties. This was just when they were starting to put out "listening stations." I remember I spent a good 15 minutes with the Type O CD -- it had all the right ingredients:  dark lyrics, compelling cover art. For me, being able to listen to the music in advance sort of ruined the mysterious "advance" nature of buying an album unheard based on how it looks and makes you feel. I picked up "Felt" as a cassette no less -- and as an import -- and I just knew I would love it -- still do. But Type O? Not-so-much.

I passed on Type O that day, and never really followed them after that. The album was "Bloody Kisses," and I kind of want it now, but I went and bought the greatest hits like a weenie. On the day I heard I created a Type O channel on Pandora and enjoyed it very much. So, now I am excited about exploring the work of Type O and seeing how much it can be a part of my life. We'll see.

Guru, on the other hand. Well that's an entirely different music shopping story. Guru was primarily with the group "Gang Star," sort of a "rapper's rapper" troupe that always had much love and respect from the east coast community. The critics love these guys -- they were the biggest rap act you never heard of for a time there.

And you know how it came to me? Darn record clubs -- so how do you like that? I was trying to oblige my monthly purchase and saw something that puffed up the talents and skills of these "underground east coast" rappers.

So I said "What the heck? Why not?" I like progressive rap, so certainly if there is band that is pushing the limits of the hip hop format -- I will always give them a little time, Such was the case with Guru and Gang Star -- they came to me in cardboard. There was something nice about that -- how archaic and how inaccessible. But I think we all like opening things and discovering them -- for me, it's not so much at retail.

I know there's a lesson in there somewhere. Something about delayed gratification, I think. Either that, or the existence of God. One of the two.

Lech Kaczynski and Meinhardt Raabe

I really can't make this stuff up, people. I have been listening to Polish Death Metal a fair bit lately. Bands like Vader and Decapitated, oh and Lux Oculta. For those who don't know, Polish Metal artists are known for a highly technical style, which borders on the impossible.

Lech Kaczynski was born June 18, 1949, and he and his brother achieved fame as child actors in a hit 1962 movie, "Those Two Who Would Steal the Moon," about troublemaking twins who try to get rich by stealing the moon and selling it.

That, I also could not have made up. I have not seen this movie, but I certainly will check to see if I can add it to my Netflix queue.

For a blog that is about celebrity death and laced with irony, the death of Meinhardt Raabe is bittersweet.

Yes, Yes, he was played the coroner, and yes, yes, he was the last remaining member of the cast with a "speaking" role.

But, why did his death have to occur on the same day as the President of Poland? Meinhardt certainly deserves better, but what can you do? I actually am growing quite fond of the "two-fer" format and I believe it adds a whole new level of 'meta' to the equation. So, if you are going to be upstaged, my Munchkin friend, please know that it is in the name of moving the product forward.

I just wish I had the energy for Dixie Carter....

Malcom Mclaren

Not often that I bang out two Celebituaries in a day, at least lately, and truth be told, I really don't have the time. I have three deadlines and taxes to finish up, no less. So what the hell, Charles? What the hell?

But Malcom Mclaren certainly deserves this. When you launch the Sex Pistols and had such an influence on music and fashion, shouldn't you get a same-day obit?

OK, so I have justified the need. But what does Malcom mean to me? It's funny. I missed the whole first wave of punk. I was 6 and just a tad too young to be down with the program. So all of the Pistols' shenanigans were missed by me. I certainly got around to it and found their limited canon very compelling, indeed. I remember this punk rock girl, Lilly, who I met at Junior Achievement in 10th grade and she turned me on to the whole scene. So that's pretty much that for the Sex Pistols.

Here's the thing with me and Malcom.

I used to spend summers in Kingston, New York at my grandmother's home. And, I remember the summer of '82 being a time for me when I was just getting into music. One day, while switching channels, I caught the last manic 30 seconds or so of "Buffalo Gals" by Mclaren. I was blown away. There seem to be a few songs from that time, "Genius of Love" and "Rapture" were a couple others that were all about white people wrapping their heads around early rap music. So, this song is a bizarre Square Dancing urban thing -- and for me, it just worked. I still play it when DJing -- and it's just a lot of fun.

So, for me, while I can appreciate the Sex Pistols -- very much so -- I am all about the Buffalo Gals. Thank you so much, Malcom. "All that scratchin' is making me itch."

Christopher Cazenove

This was just too good to pass up. Christopher Cazenove played Ben Carrington in the sixth season of Dynasty. Frankly, I had no idea the show lasted that long. In fact, it carried on another three seasons even after Ben Carrington! Here's the skinny on Ben Carrington straight from Wikipedia -- formatting and all:

Alexis Colby finds Blake's vengeful brother Ben in Australia, and brings him back to cause trouble for her ex-husband. Blake blames Ben for their mother's death; Ben was supposed to be caring for her, but instead left her alone. Ben and Alexis manage to bring Blake to his knees before Blake turns the tables on them; Ben eventually reconciles with Blake, and with his estranged daughter Leslie. It is also revealed that Ben had an affair with Emily Fallmont, and that Clay Fallmont may be his son. This is never proven for sure, and Ben ultimately leaves town.

So, this is classic "life imitating art imitating life," stuff. I think I have already said my peace about Dynasty. For those that follow this kind of stuff, the Death Watch stock on people like Joan Collins is through the roof.

I know I have said this before, but it's guys like Chris that really make Celebituary what it is. I'm not sure what that something is, but no doubt Blake and Ben Carrington are putting together a deal to blow this blog up big time, what with all their international business goings-on.

John Forsythe

You know what? I had been waiting for this. After Robert Culp, I was really in the mood to bang out a celebituary, but nothing came through. I could list all the famous or semi-famous people out there who passed in the last week. David Mills, Kendall Berry, Dan Duncan. There are many more.

John Forsythe is a celebrity, however. For God's Sakes, we're talking about Blake Carrington!

I was a big Dynasty fan. I think it was on Wednesday night. I'm sure I could look it up and find out for sure, but just play along with me. 

Blake Carrington was the man. One of the first "man" I ever knew. Maybe it was the two MILFs hanging around him in the publicity picture. Maybe it was the well established fact that Blake owned everything. I just know that he was a big deal, and I respected that.

So, while I have your attention, I should tell you my long term plans for this blog. I truly believe that this evening little boys and little girls all over America should be watching back-to-back-to-back Dynasty episodes. As soon as one of htese celebrities kicks it, there needs to be a pace you can go and relish the career that was. Not just a 30 second time filler. Y'all should receive a master class in John Forsythe. Or, you should at least have the opportunity to do so. 

So, that is the vision, and to a degree it is coming true. Hold on. Lemme go get a Dynasty link.

 Oh, here's one. The ever-popular "Blake rapes Krystal" scene. I can't make this shit up.

Robert Culp

I don't mind saying that I am really struggling with this one. I think we all know Robert Culp. He's been in so many things and he is so much of a part of the small screen, you can't really pin him down to anything in particular. The popular obituary press really makes a big deal about I Spy. But I never really saw that show. I did watch Greatest American Hero quite a bit, but I don't have any specific recollections of Mr. Culp per se.

So, what do you do when your entire blog is about personal relevance, and there's nothing in particular that really moves you about the individual? You make something up.

I met Robert Culp while I was in college. Robert was in LA filming "Perry Mason:  The Case of the Defiant Daughter." He was blitzed out of his mind at a bar right around the corner from the studio. At the time, "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips was a huge hit. I remember Robert sang the Carnie Wilson part, I sang the Chyna Phillips part, and Ray Burr came rolling in -- which is really weird because "Ironside" had long since been canceled -- and he sang the Wendy Wilson part. It was a real hoot. Then, Robert puked all over himself, and things sort of wound down from there.

I think we'll all miss Robert. I certainly know I will, although my memories of him are a bit hazy. Best of luck to you Robert in your new role.

What do you want from me? It's Friday.

Alex Chilton

First off, thanks Charles for letting me contribute here again.

Wow. Alex Chilton, a talented songwriter, musician, sub-genre progenitor and cult hero, is gone. You’ve heard and enjoyed his music (or his influence at least), I guarantee it. In his teens, he was in the Box Tops, with huge hit The Letter.

Later, over the course of a handful of years, his band Big Star created some of the most memorable, inspirational power pop ever recorded. Not inspirational in the can-I-get-an-Amen way, but a sound that musicians loved and copied to no end. Big Star helped shape music from the ‘70s right through the ‘90s. Cheap Trick. REM. Jeff Buckley. Beck. Wilco. Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown. They, and who knows how many others, followed Alex’s blueprint of honest lyrics and lush arrangements.

He wrote In the Street, which was used as the theme song to That '70s Show. Big Star's first three albums were all named to Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. If Rolling Stone meant anything anymore, this would really mean something.

So it's not accurate to say he was under appreciated, because he was appreciated by plenty. It's just that after the Box Tops, he never had huge commercial success (by P. Diddy standards). But Alex Chilton and Big Star were essential in furthering the cause for beautifully humble, intelligent rock and roll. Heartfelt, without taking themselves too seriously, despite the band’s name and the title of their first album, #1 Record.

Truly wonderful stuff. Here, give September Gurls a listen (yeah, the Bangles covered it).

The Replacements honored him on their 1987 album Pleased To Meet Me in a song called, coincidentally, Alex Chilton. So while I never saw Big Star or Alex perform live, I did have the opportunity to see the Replacements open for Tom Petty at Lake Compounce, an amusement park in Bristol, CT in 1990. It was near the end of the Replacements existence and also the last time I was at the park. For that matter, I haven’t really seen the two friends I went to the show with either in a long, long time. Avery Woron, Keith Siglinger – you guys out there?

The suspected cause of Alex’s death was a heart attack. He hadn’t been feeling well, but by the time he made it to the hospital, it was too late. He was only 59. That's just tragic.

Since no one here is getting any younger and in an effort to make an effort, why not take a second to make sure your heart is in good shape?

Peter Graves

Peter Graves is another one who was tailor made for Celebituary. There's the camp seventies / eighties thing. There's his name. And, of course, the whole Captain Over persona, an even more ironic name, eh?

So, looking at this picture here, it really does make you wonder...why do we laugh at Captain Over and "Jimmy," while we cringe at Michael Jackson and his young friend? I suppose it's as simple as fiction vs. fact -- or alleged fact. Either way, I'm just not sure a movie like Airplane gets made in this day and age, or certainly, if it does, I'm not sure it has the same mass appeal.

I am proud to say I saw Airplane in the theater and laughed my ass off. Can't remember who I went with, but it was great and I'm pretty sure I went back. This was a PG movie before there was such a thing as PG-13 -- it was probably one of the reasons PG-13 came to be.

So, anyhow, Peter Graves. I really think it begins and ends with Airplane. Why really bother ourselves with anything else? To that point, I am going to break my own rule and add a video to this post.

So, without further ado, I give you the original Airplane Trailer. There was something much better a couple days ago. 10 minutes of nothing but Captain Over. But I guess it got pulled.

Original Airplane Trailer

Merlin Olson. It was always good to have a true Norsman on the sports page every week. He was sort of the large Scandinavian uncle I never had. My frame of reference aren't the popular ones -- which makes this more special.

My Merin Olsen wasn't really a lineman (pre-dated me). Nor was he Father Dowling. Shows like "Little House" were for girls. My Merlin was the sporetscaster who got pulled in for all the big time games. If Merlin was on a game, you know it was a big deal. Stoic. Detached. Able to throw on a helmet at a moment's notice and whup some ass. That was my Merlin.

It's funny. People in the public eye morph into so many roles and personas over the years, it really does feel like we live multiple lives. For Merlin, there were the three public lives that we know so well (player, sportscaster, actor), but you wonder about his less public existence.What were his middle school years like? How has the last year been?

Celebrities like Merlin are by subscription only. You get the public stuff free, but you need much better access to receive unlimited Merlin.

Merlin appeared to be a good man and certainly played some endearing roles. For my money,the one I will miss the most was his sportscaster.

Corey Haim

Corey Haim is pretty much who Celebituary was invented for. So, let's take a moment and reflect on one of the "Two Corey's" for a moment.

For starters, I am beginning to realize how out-of-touch I am with pop culture these days, and this is not a good thing. Growing up, I couldn't have been more plugged in to the relatively small universe. MTV made it easy. There was no reality programming to speak of. The "Big Three" networks were well defined. Everybody had the Farrah Fawcett poster. Etc.

I say all this, because the fact that there was even a show known as "The Two Corey's" on A&E completely escaped me. So now I am worried that I am missing out on all sorts of has-been celebrity entertainment. For some reason, "Celebrity Fit Club" is not one of them. You know how some shows just seem to find you, no matter where you are or what you are doing? I have that thing going with Celebrity Fit Club 7, where it always just seems to be in my face. But, see, I don't even KNOW all of those so-called "celebrities. I mean there's K-Fed and Bobby Brown, and Sebastian Bach. But, some of these people, I don't know 'em, which is bad, because then I can't honor them as I might like to. Gotta watch more TV, I guess.

You want to know how much pop culture there is? To wit, Corey Haim was voted 8th -- that's right 8th -- favorite Canadian on a TV series for his work in "The Two Corey's."

But, why worry about the present, when there is the more idealistic past to dwell on. For me and Corey it pretty much starts and ends with "The Lost Boys." I gotta believe I saw "License to Drive," but it doesn't resonate with me whatsoever. But Lost Boys, wow. For starters, I never knew why that song, "Cry Little Sister" was not a hit -- maybe it was too soundtracky. But, I put the Lost Boys soundtrack right up there with "Pretty in Pink," it's got some great moments.

I saw this movie with some odd configuration of high school friends at The Cordova Mall in Pensacola, FL. I think Ed was probably there. Ed? For some reason, I think Maria Yeo was there. I even think Paige Vance was there. It was in the "new" theater at Cordova Mall, where I also saw Dirty Dancing. Lost Boys was remarkable in that it was the first Rated R movie that I could remember going to with a group of friends with 100% legal compliance. We were all legit "adults" going to see an "adult" film and boy did it feel good!

I worked at Cordova Mall at the time. I worked at Morrison's Cafeteria slinging vegetables for a miserable alcoholic boss who fired me, no lie, for attending a debate tournament instead of working the Saturday lunch shift. The fucker.

So Corey Haim? He played the role well. And the hair? It was the perfect late eighties quaff. The whole movie was great and I'm glad I had the privilege of seeing it in its original glory.

So I watched the whole "molested" conversation between the two Corey's and the whole thing is just sad and pathetic. When you add in the Michael Jackson component, it just gets stranger and even more ironic.

One other sad and pathetic point. Corey Haim is well acknowledged as a "has-been" and he is two years younger than me. Hmmmm....

Alexander M. Haig Jr.

To all my fans out there. I have let you down. To all the people who followed me, who counted on me for a little levity, yet honest-to-goodness respect for the deceased (with a few awkward exceptions), I'm really sad.

I'm sad that I have let you down. I am sad that I became part of your perspective on the dearly departed.OK, here is the God's Honest Truth. I started the blog while business was...um...bad. They were dark days no doubt. And dark days give way to gallows humor. Indeed.

So business has been good for Marrelli Enterprises, INC. And you should all be happy for me, although I work long hours for my multiple commitments. 

If any my associates are reading this and wondering why you're not getting that PowerPoint deck, or populating your spreadsheet, or working on your copy, or building that web site, feel good about my commitment. Because, naturally, I wouldn't take such an indulgence on your dime. 

And, thus, far less Celebituary. 

But, folks, the world needs Celebituary, so indeed I have a higher calling every now and then.

Charles, put on your dark makeup. The show must go on.

So, Mr. Haig, one of the few people who I can associate in my formative mind as "president." I certainly do. He stood up there and pretty much told me so. And, for the most part, I was down with the program. I vaguely recall stories of Sandinistas and knowing they had overthrown their government and whatnot, so the idea of waking up one day with a brand new president was, if nothing else interesting. So, I was all ears.

Funny story. The day Reagan got shot... it happened at school. The hallways were abuzz, and there was a small black and white TV, and you were all crowded around and you couldn't see a GD thing. I'm not making this shit up. So I was always the kind of kid who preferred the back of the class. It was always the best seat in the house to be able to spectate on all the various goings on. Sort of center fielder, if you will.

So, I can't see shit, and can barely hear shit, and the whole thing was a piss poor AV production, but whatever.

I turn to my friend, and I'm like 

"Maybe it was the same guy who shot JR?" 

And this young black substitute teacher looked at me in a sort of "I can't believe you said that but I personally think it's really funny" sort of way. I think she even put her hands on her hips. And I definitely got some head shakin.' She liked my wit. My read on the situation. My subtle detachment.

Alexander Haig. Here. The word on the street is that you invented the word "epistemologicallywise." From one orator to another, nice work. That particular phrase deals in matters like "How do we know what we know?" Far too profound for a center fielder like me. Just back here catching fly balls. 

You're Out.

Now back to work.

Jack Brisco

I already spoke at length of my fondness for professional wrestling and Jack Brisco was right at the center of the seventies Florida wrestling scene. I sure do wish I had all my old Wrestling mags as Jack Brisco was prominently featured, being the two time NWA champ and all.

In the old days, for the most part, "good guys" were "good guys," with relatively uncomplicated names and personas. It doesn't get much more straightforward than "Jack Brisco." He was a regular guy in regular tights fighting all these evil dudes in sheik costumes and masks and what not.

OK, big confession, I had a Planet of the Apes "astronaut" doll, who, when stripped down to his blue doll underwear was a proxy for Mr. Brisco. So, there. I played with dolls. But it was guy "rasslin'" dolls and not baby dolls or anything like that. I mean, who hasn't launched Luke Skywalker from the top of a bedpost to (hopefully) land on The Joker? I know I have.

So, thanks, Jack, for being a good guy. We need more of you, not less.

J.D. Salinger and Zelda Rubinstein

How could you? How could you link the author of an American classic, with a character actor?

My blog. My rules.

Truth is, we're all equal in death and I'm sure Mr. Salinger would be the first to acknowledge that you could do a lot worse.

I read 'Catcher in the Rye' like everyone else, and frankly, it was so spot on, I actually wondered "what's the big deal? Isn't that how we all feel?" The alienation. The confusion. The fear, really. The fear of growing up.

My brother Jim, who was eleven years older than me always used to tell me, "I just think of you as a kid. I think of you as someone who goes to the arcade and plays video games."

I still am that kid. I'm still this young boy who just happens to have five kids of his own. A big kid with a big family. OK, sure it feels good to make the mortgage payment. And unclog the sink. And shovel the driveway. But, in general, being a grown up sucks.

Because you're just a little bit closer to dying.

Enter Zelda Rubinstein. She spoke to the dead, ya know. I saw her do it at an old movie theater in Kingston, NY, where Poltergeist played.

The thing about that movie...one of its central movements was about television stations going off the air, which is kind of a quaint idea in this day and age.

Of course now we know that TV stations don't stop. They just go and go. They do not sleep. They do not die.

But the Poltergeist TV did go off the air. And when it did, the ghosts came to visit. And dammit, if they didn't go and take young Carol Anne. So, long story short, they bring in Tangina (played by Ms. Rubinstein) and she gets to the bottom of all the nonsense, speaks the the dead, and ends up saving young Carol Anne. By the way, you gotta love the Kim Jong il shades Tangina wears in the flick.

The real Carol Anne, actress Heather O' Rourke, never made it through adolescence. She died at twelve, slightly younger than Holden Caulfied, the protagonist from 'Catcher in the Rye.'

So, there you have it. I have successfully linked J.D. and Zelda. But, in reality, it's all a sham. Crazy talk, really. So, while we're talking crazy, I'm thinking about the whole Phoebe bit of Catcher, and I am reimagining Phoebe as the young Carol Anne from Poltergeist.

"You can't even think of one thing."
"Yes I can Yes I can."
"Well do it, then."
"I like Allie," I said. "And I like doing what I'm doing right now. Sitting here with you, and talking, and thinking about stuff and-"
"Allie's dead-You always say that! If somebody's dead and everthing, and in Heaven, then it isn't really-"
"I know he's dead!" Don't you think I know that? I can still like him though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake-especially if they were about a thousand time's nicer than the people you know that're alive and all."
Old Carol Anne didn't say anything. When she can't think of anything to say, she doesn't say a goddam word."

Pernell Roberts

"Charles, what's up with the Trapper John picture? Why no Bonanza?"

Well for me, I grew up with Trapper John, MD and not with Bonanza, so there you have it. I was never a big Western fan, anyhow.

It's all so fuzzy for me. I want to say that Trapper John aired on Sunday nights, and I remember enjoying it, but it doesn't stir up any profound memories. I kind of sort of remember trying to wrap my head around the fact that Pernell Roberts was playing the Trapper John "character," which most of us knew belonged to Wayne Rogers. I remember wondering why they just didn't use the "real" Trapper John from M*A*S*H.

Jeron Lewis

Sometimes these things just rip your heart out. I know what some of you may think about this blog. It's just a joke. And, you know what, sometimes it is. Soupy Sales? That's what he would have wanted, ya know?

But this basketball kid? My heart goes out to him. Just a fluke play and now he's gone. The fact that he just had a baby makes the whole thing sadder.

I would send you the link, but I don't do that anymore.

It's just sad and senseless and there's nothing funny or ironic about it.

Teddy Pendergrass

And wouldn't you know it? A two-fer. The night I decide to get back in the game, the Gods of popular music give me two very different artists with very different stories.

I remember the Teddy Pendergrass car accident news reports. And that was all I knew of him. That, and the Eddie Murphy, "you got, you got, you got what I need" bit. "Throw your panties on the stage."Yes, I would absolutely love to link to that -- but Dammit, I ain't going there. No links. No links, I tell you.

I wasn't much of a fan of his music, but his death has inspired me to go out and snatch up some of his recordings. Which essentially means in 2010 opening a new tab in my browser and going to that Russian site (no link) and buying a song or two for 9 cents a track.

The only other thing I have to say about Teddy is that he definitely had the "black GI Joe" look down cold. So, in an odd way, I had a Teddy Pendergrass doll when I was a kid. RIP, Teddy.

Jay Reatard

I'm trying to get back into this. Bear with me. Ultimately the format caught up with me. I take a lot of pride in what I do, and each entry took well over two hours, sometimes I would curate this stuff over the course of an entire weekend. So I backed off. There were so many I wanted to do. The German Goalkeeper. The Johnson heir. That actress in her thirties. What was her name? Oh, and Chris Henry. I sat on the sidelines through it all.The funny thing is, my wife went to a Martha Stewart taping today. The topic? Blogs. And I thought to myself, I used to do that...I used to do that.

I know one thing is for sure. I am definitely killing the links. To hell with it. My blog. My rules. No more linking out. Besides, links,...um...expire.

Jay Reatard. What a name. I had been meaning to listen to more of his stuff, and well, this is really quite the perfect excuse. Bill, the guy in the office next to mine was a big fan. I bet we'll talk about it tomorrow...er..today.

There is this massive catastrophe in Haiti, and what am I writing about? Jay Reatard. He's pretty good and quite prolific. Google him. Cos you ain't gettin' no God Damn links from me! Jay would have liked that. He had that FU type of attitude. And look where it got him. Rock on, reatard.