2005
Ghosts Of Christmas Present
December 21, 2005 11:59 PM
Dear CDT Readers,
Well, the weather outside is frightening . . .
Just like the malls, the Christmas rush is on at the CDT. Just last week we had Richard Pryor, Eugene McCarthy and Tookie "Hurry It Up" Williams singing "It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with Yul . . . " (that's Yul Brynner, Celebrity Death Trio 1985). Now three more future Ghosts Of Christmas Past have decided to "jingle all the way" to the Mistletoe Morgue.
In the course of barely one weekend we got three new celebrities, and this time it's a holiday buffet for our politically-partisan patrons. Since the US Government has been outed for spying on everyday citizens (hey, if it's okay for Santa--he knows when you've been bad or good--it's okay for Dubya), they deserve something for Christmas other than the lumps of coal they'd be getting.
Politics aside, the following three celebs have all been voted off of the island once and for all, and can now be found spreading holiday cheer at the Christmas Crematorium.
Herewith, the departed.
William Proxmire. Senator from Wisconsin. First elected in 1957, when politicians still believed that the voters mattered more than the lobbyists-and he acted that way. He created the "Golden Fleece" awards to show just how wasteful government was with taxpayer money. In this day and age, every damned politician would win his award on a daily basis. Our favorite fleece recipient: The Department Of Justice, which spent $27,000 to study why prisoners wanted to get out of jail. Our guess (no charge): the spectacular sex life.
Jack Anderson. Pulitzer Prize winning columnist. Anderson was one of the last of a generation of investigative journalists who were happy to take on bureaucrats and expose their craven ways. He broke numerous stories, including Iran-Contra and the CIA's attempt to kill Castro by hiring the Mafia. J. Edgar Hoover once called him "lower than the regurgitated filth of vultures." Coming from a guy who wore fishnet stockings and a pushup bra under his starched FBI suit, that's high praise, indeed.
John Spencer. Emmy Award winning actor. Played chief of staff and presidential confidante Leo McGarry on "The West Wing" TV show. He also starred in numerous movies, including "Presumed Innocent," "Cop Land," and "The Negotiator." The saddest part of his death is that real presidential confidante Karl Rove is still alive.
RIP, one and all.
Well, the weather outside is frightening . . .
Just like the malls, the Christmas rush is on at the CDT. Just last week we had Richard Pryor, Eugene McCarthy and Tookie "Hurry It Up" Williams singing "It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with Yul . . . " (that's Yul Brynner, Celebrity Death Trio 1985). Now three more future Ghosts Of Christmas Past have decided to "jingle all the way" to the Mistletoe Morgue.
In the course of barely one weekend we got three new celebrities, and this time it's a holiday buffet for our politically-partisan patrons. Since the US Government has been outed for spying on everyday citizens (hey, if it's okay for Santa--he knows when you've been bad or good--it's okay for Dubya), they deserve something for Christmas other than the lumps of coal they'd be getting.
Politics aside, the following three celebs have all been voted off of the island once and for all, and can now be found spreading holiday cheer at the Christmas Crematorium.
Herewith, the departed.
William Proxmire. Senator from Wisconsin. First elected in 1957, when politicians still believed that the voters mattered more than the lobbyists-and he acted that way. He created the "Golden Fleece" awards to show just how wasteful government was with taxpayer money. In this day and age, every damned politician would win his award on a daily basis. Our favorite fleece recipient: The Department Of Justice, which spent $27,000 to study why prisoners wanted to get out of jail. Our guess (no charge): the spectacular sex life.
Jack Anderson. Pulitzer Prize winning columnist. Anderson was one of the last of a generation of investigative journalists who were happy to take on bureaucrats and expose their craven ways. He broke numerous stories, including Iran-Contra and the CIA's attempt to kill Castro by hiring the Mafia. J. Edgar Hoover once called him "lower than the regurgitated filth of vultures." Coming from a guy who wore fishnet stockings and a pushup bra under his starched FBI suit, that's high praise, indeed.
John Spencer. Emmy Award winning actor. Played chief of staff and presidential confidante Leo McGarry on "The West Wing" TV show. He also starred in numerous movies, including "Presumed Innocent," "Cop Land," and "The Negotiator." The saddest part of his death is that real presidential confidante Karl Rove is still alive.
RIP, one and all.
Jingle Hell
December 13, 2005 07:48 AM
Dear CDT Readers,
It's really not the holiday season without at least one appearance by the Celebrity Death Trio. Sure, you have Christmas, Chanukah, and Kwanzaa, but nothing says "hark the herald angels sing" like three celebrities taking one final trip to the Mortuary Mall for some last-minute shopping.
And this year, Santa arrived early (or not at all, in the case of Tookie Williams). Three celebs have packed their bags while whistling that famous seasonal line "Ask not for whom the "silver bells" toll---they toll for thee."
So, tip your hats, or tip an eggnog, to the troika of famous people who beat the Christmas rush this week on their way to the gift-giving graveyard-where all sales are final. No returns, no substitutions. No exceptions.
Herewith, the departed.
Richard Pryor. Comedian. One damn funny man, and amongst the most influential standup comics of all time. Despite self-destructive behavior, he influenced almost every comedian you can think of. His in-your-face comedy got under a lot of people's skin, and forced Saturday Night Live to use a seven second delay when he hosted the show.
Eugene McCarthy. Politician. The thinking man's liberal, he stirred up the Democratic Party in his numerous attempts to run for president (for those actually wondering, he was never elected president). In 1968, McCarthy became the face of the Vietnam antiwar movement, and forced voters to think about the issues. It's hard to see how far the Dems have fallen when you compare McCarthy to today's bigwigs in the party, like . . say, Howard Dean.
Stanley Tookie Williams. Murderer. Nobody even knew who this guy was two weeks ago. Now everybody does. He helped found the Crips gang, killed four people during two separate robberies, and has been on death row for 25 years. He tried to repent for his crimes while in San Quentin, writing books and preaching the evils of gang membership. Regardless of your stance on capital punishment, he was put to death in California for murder-each of his victims was killed at point blank range with a shotgun.
RIP, one and all.
It's really not the holiday season without at least one appearance by the Celebrity Death Trio. Sure, you have Christmas, Chanukah, and Kwanzaa, but nothing says "hark the herald angels sing" like three celebrities taking one final trip to the Mortuary Mall for some last-minute shopping.
And this year, Santa arrived early (or not at all, in the case of Tookie Williams). Three celebs have packed their bags while whistling that famous seasonal line "Ask not for whom the "silver bells" toll---they toll for thee."
So, tip your hats, or tip an eggnog, to the troika of famous people who beat the Christmas rush this week on their way to the gift-giving graveyard-where all sales are final. No returns, no substitutions. No exceptions.
Herewith, the departed.
Richard Pryor. Comedian. One damn funny man, and amongst the most influential standup comics of all time. Despite self-destructive behavior, he influenced almost every comedian you can think of. His in-your-face comedy got under a lot of people's skin, and forced Saturday Night Live to use a seven second delay when he hosted the show.
Eugene McCarthy. Politician. The thinking man's liberal, he stirred up the Democratic Party in his numerous attempts to run for president (for those actually wondering, he was never elected president). In 1968, McCarthy became the face of the Vietnam antiwar movement, and forced voters to think about the issues. It's hard to see how far the Dems have fallen when you compare McCarthy to today's bigwigs in the party, like . . say, Howard Dean.
Stanley Tookie Williams. Murderer. Nobody even knew who this guy was two weeks ago. Now everybody does. He helped found the Crips gang, killed four people during two separate robberies, and has been on death row for 25 years. He tried to repent for his crimes while in San Quentin, writing books and preaching the evils of gang membership. Regardless of your stance on capital punishment, he was put to death in California for murder-each of his victims was killed at point blank range with a shotgun.
RIP, one and all.
When The Levee Breaks When The Levee Breaks
September 15, 2005 10:36 PM
Dear CDT Reader,
Well, it was a long hot summer, with nary a long, cool, dirt-napped Celebrity Death Trio to break up the record heat and humidity. Sure, it seemed as if Peter Jennings went off to that big newsroom in the sky with Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw, making for a perfect trio, but the fact is that Jennings was the only one who actually died. A lot of people forget that crucial point, even if Dan Rather did pretty much kill his own career. The reality is that Tom and Dan just retired. So, that didn't count.
Then there was the travesty of the "drain they call the city of New Orleans." In a perfect world, Mayor Nagin, Governor Blanco and FEMA flunky Michael "Heck of a job, Brownie" Brown would have all been shot in the New Orleans Convention Center, making for a Celebrity Death Trio of properly political proportions. But that was not to be. Instead, everybody else suffered from these idiots' inability to take responsibility and take charge. Christ, even Noah could have done a better job evacuating the city than these bozos, and he's been dead since the beginning of time.
Nonetheless, we did squeak out an end of summer CDT--just to prove there was still life in the old "dying for fame" game. And it was an interesting bunch, probably the most diverse CDT to date. But we'll let the obituaries speak for themselves. Here's to the latest group of cremation-worthy castaways, all of whom have gone on to join that great nonstop Mardi Gras Parade in Paradise, drinking--what else?--hurricanes at the very last call and eating filet of soul.
Laissez les bon temps roulez, indeed.
Herewith, the departed.
* Justice William Rehnquist - Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, former lawyer
You have to appreciate a guy who managed to get a job in the Nixon Administration and lived to talk about it more than thirty years later. There is plenty to read elsewhere about his politics and his performance on the court. What you probably didn't know is that he designed his chief justice robe based on the costumes in the Gilbert and Sullivan play "Iolanthe." And this guy was a conservative?
* Bob Denver - actor
Ahh, yes. One of the most familiar faces in TV Land, he really WAS Gilligan, the original "little buddy" who never quite figured out that Ginger and Mary Ann wanted him to father their love child week after week. Hapless, happy, and a nerd in every way, Bob Denver never outgrew Gilligan (first name "Willy") or his Maynard G. Krebs character from Dobie Gillis--for those of you old enough to remember that far back. If you hear someone yelling "Ski-i-i-i-i-p-p-p-p-er!!! in your dreams, it's Gilligan.
* Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown - musician
A classic blues guitarist through and through (and a main draw at New Orleans Jazzfest), Gatemouth actually fused swamp rock and country and blues and zydeco into his own brand of music. Respected by musicians ranging from Eric Clapton to Roy Clark, Brown was seeking shelter from the storm when he died at the age of 81.
Perhaps a rendition of Led Zeppelin's "When The Levee Breaks" would not be inappropriate.
RIP, one and all.
Well, it was a long hot summer, with nary a long, cool, dirt-napped Celebrity Death Trio to break up the record heat and humidity. Sure, it seemed as if Peter Jennings went off to that big newsroom in the sky with Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw, making for a perfect trio, but the fact is that Jennings was the only one who actually died. A lot of people forget that crucial point, even if Dan Rather did pretty much kill his own career. The reality is that Tom and Dan just retired. So, that didn't count.
Then there was the travesty of the "drain they call the city of New Orleans." In a perfect world, Mayor Nagin, Governor Blanco and FEMA flunky Michael "Heck of a job, Brownie" Brown would have all been shot in the New Orleans Convention Center, making for a Celebrity Death Trio of properly political proportions. But that was not to be. Instead, everybody else suffered from these idiots' inability to take responsibility and take charge. Christ, even Noah could have done a better job evacuating the city than these bozos, and he's been dead since the beginning of time.
Nonetheless, we did squeak out an end of summer CDT--just to prove there was still life in the old "dying for fame" game. And it was an interesting bunch, probably the most diverse CDT to date. But we'll let the obituaries speak for themselves. Here's to the latest group of cremation-worthy castaways, all of whom have gone on to join that great nonstop Mardi Gras Parade in Paradise, drinking--what else?--hurricanes at the very last call and eating filet of soul.
Laissez les bon temps roulez, indeed.
Herewith, the departed.
* Justice William Rehnquist - Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, former lawyer
You have to appreciate a guy who managed to get a job in the Nixon Administration and lived to talk about it more than thirty years later. There is plenty to read elsewhere about his politics and his performance on the court. What you probably didn't know is that he designed his chief justice robe based on the costumes in the Gilbert and Sullivan play "Iolanthe." And this guy was a conservative?
* Bob Denver - actor
Ahh, yes. One of the most familiar faces in TV Land, he really WAS Gilligan, the original "little buddy" who never quite figured out that Ginger and Mary Ann wanted him to father their love child week after week. Hapless, happy, and a nerd in every way, Bob Denver never outgrew Gilligan (first name "Willy") or his Maynard G. Krebs character from Dobie Gillis--for those of you old enough to remember that far back. If you hear someone yelling "Ski-i-i-i-i-p-p-p-p-er!!! in your dreams, it's Gilligan.
* Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown - musician
A classic blues guitarist through and through (and a main draw at New Orleans Jazzfest), Gatemouth actually fused swamp rock and country and blues and zydeco into his own brand of music. Respected by musicians ranging from Eric Clapton to Roy Clark, Brown was seeking shelter from the storm when he died at the age of 81.
Perhaps a rendition of Led Zeppelin's "When The Levee Breaks" would not be inappropriate.
RIP, one and all.
Voices From The Grave
June 27, 2005 10:35 PM
Dear CDT Readers,
It's a Monday mourning (okay, afternoon), and we're deep in the dog days of summer. That means the thermometer is going up. Way up. We can certainly expect lots of French people to die from European heatwaves, and people across the South will sweat off some of the obesity that will ultimately doom them anyway. Through it all, celebrities will continue to gather in groups of three as they go lie down-not on the beach-but on the "summertime slab." Yes, the Celebrity Death Trio is in full swing, and the calendar doesn't even say July yet.
To that end, God's called his first three celebrities home just in time for his celestial "Fourth Of July For The Faithful" picnic. While they're slaking their thirst at T.G.I.Forever's, we'll be toasting them with our home-brewed Afterlife Ale. Cheers . . .
Herewith, the departed.
Shana Alexander. Younger readers may not remember her pioneering star turn on the Point/Counterpoint segment of 60 Minutes, but everyone remembers Jane Curtin's version of that role, in which Dan Ackroyd routinely addressed her as "Jane, you ignorant slut." The real Alexander was far from ignorant, and was one of the pioneering women in broadcast news.
Paul Winchell - Voice artist who, in addition to being the voice of Tigger from Winnie The Pooh, did a host of Saturday morning cartoons (Dick Dastardly in Wacky Races, Fleegle in The Banana Splits). And the guy didn't stop there: he was a famed ventriloquist (with Jerry Mahoney), had a patent on a disposable razor, and invented an early prototype of the artificial heart. Not bad for a guy who's catch phrase was "Ta ta for now."
John Fiedler - A diminutive bald actor best known as the voice of Piglet in the Winnie The Pooh series (notice that God's got a theme going here?). Despite his preternaturally high-pitched voice, Fiedler was an accomplished TV and film actor, starring in both 12 Angry Men and True Grit. But we'll always love him for his recurring roles in the original Superman and Bob Newhart series (as Mr. Peterson).
There's the trio for this edition. Astute readers will remember that the last CDT, barely three weeks ago, featured the inimitable Thurl Ravenscroft, the voice of Tony The Tiger and numerous Disney attractions alongside Frank Gorshin, famed for his comic impressions. This week we had voicemasters Winchell and Fiedler.
You know, we're thinking that if Mel Blanc had still been alive, he would have died this week.
And to have two members of the Pooh clan cash in their Eternal E-Z Pass one day apart has got to be wreaking hell on the psyches of toddlers everywhere.
RIP, one and all.
It's a Monday mourning (okay, afternoon), and we're deep in the dog days of summer. That means the thermometer is going up. Way up. We can certainly expect lots of French people to die from European heatwaves, and people across the South will sweat off some of the obesity that will ultimately doom them anyway. Through it all, celebrities will continue to gather in groups of three as they go lie down-not on the beach-but on the "summertime slab." Yes, the Celebrity Death Trio is in full swing, and the calendar doesn't even say July yet.
To that end, God's called his first three celebrities home just in time for his celestial "Fourth Of July For The Faithful" picnic. While they're slaking their thirst at T.G.I.Forever's, we'll be toasting them with our home-brewed Afterlife Ale. Cheers . . .
Herewith, the departed.
Shana Alexander. Younger readers may not remember her pioneering star turn on the Point/Counterpoint segment of 60 Minutes, but everyone remembers Jane Curtin's version of that role, in which Dan Ackroyd routinely addressed her as "Jane, you ignorant slut." The real Alexander was far from ignorant, and was one of the pioneering women in broadcast news.
Paul Winchell - Voice artist who, in addition to being the voice of Tigger from Winnie The Pooh, did a host of Saturday morning cartoons (Dick Dastardly in Wacky Races, Fleegle in The Banana Splits). And the guy didn't stop there: he was a famed ventriloquist (with Jerry Mahoney), had a patent on a disposable razor, and invented an early prototype of the artificial heart. Not bad for a guy who's catch phrase was "Ta ta for now."
John Fiedler - A diminutive bald actor best known as the voice of Piglet in the Winnie The Pooh series (notice that God's got a theme going here?). Despite his preternaturally high-pitched voice, Fiedler was an accomplished TV and film actor, starring in both 12 Angry Men and True Grit. But we'll always love him for his recurring roles in the original Superman and Bob Newhart series (as Mr. Peterson).
There's the trio for this edition. Astute readers will remember that the last CDT, barely three weeks ago, featured the inimitable Thurl Ravenscroft, the voice of Tony The Tiger and numerous Disney attractions alongside Frank Gorshin, famed for his comic impressions. This week we had voicemasters Winchell and Fiedler.
You know, we're thinking that if Mel Blanc had still been alive, he would have died this week.
And to have two members of the Pooh clan cash in their Eternal E-Z Pass one day apart has got to be wreaking hell on the psyches of toddlers everywhere.
RIP, one and all.
Riddle Me This, Satan Riddle Me This, Satan
May 31, 2005 10:34 PM
Dear CDT Reader,
Well, it's been a long dry spell here at the Celebrity Death Trio headquarters. In fact, it's been so dry, we thought that maybe celebrities just didn't feel like dying in the wake of the last CDT (led by the Pope). After all, it takes a lot of guts to be the follow-up to a deadlining act that includes John Paul 2, Johnnie Cochran, and Saul Bellow.
But, as they say in show business "the show must go on." Or maybe it's "the lights must go out." It's one of those. Anyway, it's the world of show business that stepped up to the plate to knock another celebrity triple out of St. Peter's Park. And specifically, it's the world of TV, where anything goes, and this time, three of their finest went. So, in time honored tradition, we present the latest installment of the Celebrity Death Trio. Today we mark the passing of those brave souls who can no longer be taped live in front of a studio audience, and will be enjoying all the well-earned benefits of an eternal dirt nap.
Herewith, the departed.
Frank Gorshin: actor and impressionist. Well known as a Vegas and New York club headliner with an uncanny ability to mimic other celebrities, Gorshin achieved true fame as the Riddler on the original Batman series (starring Adam West). Gorshin's cackling, coupled with green tights, made him the definitive Riddler. We're sure he'll be enjoying his primo vantage point seats when "Batman Begins" opens next week.
Thurl Ravenscroft: in addition to having the coolest name you've probably never heard before, Thurl was the voice of Tony The Tiger ("They're GREEEAAAT!!") and the singer of the Grinch's theme ("You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch . . ."). Additionally, he is the voice you hear on many of the rides at Disneyland and Disneyworld, and was the voice of a host of Disney animated characters.
Eddie Albert: a well respected actor who will always be remembered first and foremost (at least by the CDT) as Mr. Oliver Douglas on "Green Acres." Putting up with Eva Gabor, Arnold the pig, Eb the Handyman, and the rest of the sophisticated citizens of the sitcom, Albert made a career of being the guy for whom nothing went right, although he did put Hooterville on the map. Despite it's interesting name, Hooterville bore no relation to the popular bar and grill known as Hooters. Although maybe we should go back and watch the reruns to make sure . . .
RIP, one and all.
PS. On an unrelated note . . .Are we the only ones to see some cruel irony in the news that Viagra, a drug you give to yourself to help you have sex, may cause you to go blind? Is this what the nuns at St. Bridget's School warned us about? Or is this just an April Fool's joke gone bad?
Well, it's been a long dry spell here at the Celebrity Death Trio headquarters. In fact, it's been so dry, we thought that maybe celebrities just didn't feel like dying in the wake of the last CDT (led by the Pope). After all, it takes a lot of guts to be the follow-up to a deadlining act that includes John Paul 2, Johnnie Cochran, and Saul Bellow.
But, as they say in show business "the show must go on." Or maybe it's "the lights must go out." It's one of those. Anyway, it's the world of show business that stepped up to the plate to knock another celebrity triple out of St. Peter's Park. And specifically, it's the world of TV, where anything goes, and this time, three of their finest went. So, in time honored tradition, we present the latest installment of the Celebrity Death Trio. Today we mark the passing of those brave souls who can no longer be taped live in front of a studio audience, and will be enjoying all the well-earned benefits of an eternal dirt nap.
Herewith, the departed.
Frank Gorshin: actor and impressionist. Well known as a Vegas and New York club headliner with an uncanny ability to mimic other celebrities, Gorshin achieved true fame as the Riddler on the original Batman series (starring Adam West). Gorshin's cackling, coupled with green tights, made him the definitive Riddler. We're sure he'll be enjoying his primo vantage point seats when "Batman Begins" opens next week.
Thurl Ravenscroft: in addition to having the coolest name you've probably never heard before, Thurl was the voice of Tony The Tiger ("They're GREEEAAAT!!") and the singer of the Grinch's theme ("You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch . . ."). Additionally, he is the voice you hear on many of the rides at Disneyland and Disneyworld, and was the voice of a host of Disney animated characters.
Eddie Albert: a well respected actor who will always be remembered first and foremost (at least by the CDT) as Mr. Oliver Douglas on "Green Acres." Putting up with Eva Gabor, Arnold the pig, Eb the Handyman, and the rest of the sophisticated citizens of the sitcom, Albert made a career of being the guy for whom nothing went right, although he did put Hooterville on the map. Despite it's interesting name, Hooterville bore no relation to the popular bar and grill known as Hooters. Although maybe we should go back and watch the reruns to make sure . . .
RIP, one and all.
PS. On an unrelated note . . .Are we the only ones to see some cruel irony in the news that Viagra, a drug you give to yourself to help you have sex, may cause you to go blind? Is this what the nuns at St. Bridget's School warned us about? Or is this just an April Fool's joke gone bad?
Papal Procession
April 06, 2005 08:33 AM
Dear CDT Readers,
Well, this was the big one.
The death week everyone was putting their Kentucky Derby money, their lunch money, and their life's savings on. And the CDT did not fail to deliver a stunning cast, quite likely the most storied troika of world renowned former carbon-based life forms to date. I mean, the Pope and Johnnie Cochran in one week? The irony is palpable: one gets the express ski lift to the Serene Slopes while the other will be wearing custom-fit baking gloves to hold onto his new Everlast barbecue tools.
But you've all read the headlines, so you don't need us to dwell mawkishly on this latest group of esteemed citizens who've finished up their visit to this theme park we call Life; those who've sampled the delights of Taking-Up-Space Mountain and by their departure have now made it a "smaller world after all." A tip of the cap, then, for this week's fabled three.
Herewith, the departed.
Johnnie Cochran: No matter how much good he may have done as a civil rights lawyer, Johnnie C will forever be known as the guy from whom O.J. Simpson purchased an acquittal. And because O.J. was actually guilty, and because his own lawyer knew it, Johnnie Cochran should have to spend all of eternity sitting outside the gates of heaven ("If it does not fit, you cannot admit") listening to Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman discuss the finer points of the word "justice" until hell freezes over. And with any luck, Alan Dershowitz will get to join in sometime in the near future.
The Pope. No matter where you sit on the electrified fence that is organized religion, you have to give this particular Pope credit for taking an active role in world politics. A man of strong beliefs, he named names and called plenty of world leaders out on the carpet. Of course, he probably should have spent a little more time checking his own rug, under which issues like women in the church, clerical sexual abuse, and AIDS were all swept.
Saul Bellow: Perhaps America's most notable novelist, having won the Pulitzer and the Nobel prizes for his writing. Most of you probably had to read "Herzog" in either high school or college English. And if you've only been reading John Grisham novels and Harry Potter stories since then, odds are that you haven't read any of Mr. Bellow's more recent work. So stop in the library today on your way home from work and pick up "The Adventures Of Augie March." You'll be glad you did.
(NB: As for Terri Schiavo--this one is so sad, we don't even know where to begin. Has she been dead for years? Was she starved by the state of Florida? God knows. At least her friends and family had the good grace and dignity not to turn her personal life and death into a media blitz: a blitz launched day after day where one side sniped against another while lining up headline-grabbing politicians in a constant grab for one-upsmanship that resembled nothing so much as a lethal game of "Red Rover Red Rover." Oh, wait. Her friends and family DID do that. Sorry, Terri. Maybe in your next life, you'll be blessed with better relatives.)
RIP, one and all.
PS. The CDT thanks cub reporters Arthur Schwartz, Pete Prown, and Mike Johnson for providing news items and ideas during this frenetic funerary week. Wouldn't have made the deadline without them . . .
Well, this was the big one.
The death week everyone was putting their Kentucky Derby money, their lunch money, and their life's savings on. And the CDT did not fail to deliver a stunning cast, quite likely the most storied troika of world renowned former carbon-based life forms to date. I mean, the Pope and Johnnie Cochran in one week? The irony is palpable: one gets the express ski lift to the Serene Slopes while the other will be wearing custom-fit baking gloves to hold onto his new Everlast barbecue tools.
But you've all read the headlines, so you don't need us to dwell mawkishly on this latest group of esteemed citizens who've finished up their visit to this theme park we call Life; those who've sampled the delights of Taking-Up-Space Mountain and by their departure have now made it a "smaller world after all." A tip of the cap, then, for this week's fabled three.
Herewith, the departed.
Johnnie Cochran: No matter how much good he may have done as a civil rights lawyer, Johnnie C will forever be known as the guy from whom O.J. Simpson purchased an acquittal. And because O.J. was actually guilty, and because his own lawyer knew it, Johnnie Cochran should have to spend all of eternity sitting outside the gates of heaven ("If it does not fit, you cannot admit") listening to Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman discuss the finer points of the word "justice" until hell freezes over. And with any luck, Alan Dershowitz will get to join in sometime in the near future.
The Pope. No matter where you sit on the electrified fence that is organized religion, you have to give this particular Pope credit for taking an active role in world politics. A man of strong beliefs, he named names and called plenty of world leaders out on the carpet. Of course, he probably should have spent a little more time checking his own rug, under which issues like women in the church, clerical sexual abuse, and AIDS were all swept.
Saul Bellow: Perhaps America's most notable novelist, having won the Pulitzer and the Nobel prizes for his writing. Most of you probably had to read "Herzog" in either high school or college English. And if you've only been reading John Grisham novels and Harry Potter stories since then, odds are that you haven't read any of Mr. Bellow's more recent work. So stop in the library today on your way home from work and pick up "The Adventures Of Augie March." You'll be glad you did.
(NB: As for Terri Schiavo--this one is so sad, we don't even know where to begin. Has she been dead for years? Was she starved by the state of Florida? God knows. At least her friends and family had the good grace and dignity not to turn her personal life and death into a media blitz: a blitz launched day after day where one side sniped against another while lining up headline-grabbing politicians in a constant grab for one-upsmanship that resembled nothing so much as a lethal game of "Red Rover Red Rover." Oh, wait. Her friends and family DID do that. Sorry, Terri. Maybe in your next life, you'll be blessed with better relatives.)
RIP, one and all.
PS. The CDT thanks cub reporters Arthur Schwartz, Pete Prown, and Mike Johnson for providing news items and ideas during this frenetic funerary week. Wouldn't have made the deadline without them . . .
Waiting In The Wings
March 28, 2005 10:32 PM
March 28, 2005
Dear CDT Readers,
We come off last week with a trio of deaths that may not have resonated on every corner of the known world, but certainly will strike a chord with many of our readers. It's a sort of B-list Celebrity Death Trio, one that's keeping the batter's box warm while the main event is warming up in the on-deck circle . . . but more on that in a moment. Right now, we pay homage to those celebrities who just checked into the Eternity Suite at The Graveyard Inn, with unlimited mini-bar privileges and no need for maid service.
Herewith, the departed.
John DeLorean: GM exec who created the space age car named after him and used in the "Back To The Future" movies. Unfortunately, Johnny D is probably best known for trying to set up a drug deal to raise money for his faltering auto business. Which may be why you don't see a lot of those stainless steel dream machines racing up and down the 405 or I-95.
Bobby Short: popular jazz musician and longtime New York City fixture best known for his decades of keeping jazz alive at the Carlyle Hotel. Probably the best dressed guy to ever make our list.
Rod Price: Foghat founder and guitarist. Yeah, yeah--Foghat? Admit it, Foghat was a guilty pleasure for anyone over the age of 40 (and we don't need to point out how many of you readers are smack dab in the middle of THAT demographic), plus, you can all sing the riff to "Slow Ride" in your sleep, can't you?
RIP, one and all.
Moving right ahead, we have an interesting situation here at CDT Central. Despite the fact that we're a hard news organization, and report only the hard cold facts (after they've occurred), many readers have been "speculating" about the next CDT winners with a level of morbid fascination that would do Gomez and Morticia Addams proud. These latter day Nostradami are expecting that a troika formed by Rainer Grimaldi III, Ms. Schindler, and Karol Wojtyla will be the biggest CDT of the year. (These CDT entrants are, of course, recent respirator-user Prince Rainier, Congressional stalking horse Terry Schiavo, and frequent hospital visitor Pope John Paul II.)
While we won't take bets--but, oh, are we tempted--we will be keeping vigilant watch over the fates of any and all celebrities who decide to keep the "death comes in threes" tradition alive.
* * *
One final note. We want to mention the passing of Dr. J. Mike McWhorter. While not someone any of our readers would know, Doc was a highly respected neurosurgeon who had served as the president of the Congress Of Neurological Surgeons. He was once approached by the Guinnness Book Of World Records for inclusion in that tome after having performed brain surgery on a single patient for over 40 hours (the patient lived). A wonderful man who also served as the advisor on "The Great Brain Book," he will be truly and forever missed. Thanks, Doc.
Dear CDT Readers,
We come off last week with a trio of deaths that may not have resonated on every corner of the known world, but certainly will strike a chord with many of our readers. It's a sort of B-list Celebrity Death Trio, one that's keeping the batter's box warm while the main event is warming up in the on-deck circle . . . but more on that in a moment. Right now, we pay homage to those celebrities who just checked into the Eternity Suite at The Graveyard Inn, with unlimited mini-bar privileges and no need for maid service.
Herewith, the departed.
John DeLorean: GM exec who created the space age car named after him and used in the "Back To The Future" movies. Unfortunately, Johnny D is probably best known for trying to set up a drug deal to raise money for his faltering auto business. Which may be why you don't see a lot of those stainless steel dream machines racing up and down the 405 or I-95.
Bobby Short: popular jazz musician and longtime New York City fixture best known for his decades of keeping jazz alive at the Carlyle Hotel. Probably the best dressed guy to ever make our list.
Rod Price: Foghat founder and guitarist. Yeah, yeah--Foghat? Admit it, Foghat was a guilty pleasure for anyone over the age of 40 (and we don't need to point out how many of you readers are smack dab in the middle of THAT demographic), plus, you can all sing the riff to "Slow Ride" in your sleep, can't you?
RIP, one and all.
Moving right ahead, we have an interesting situation here at CDT Central. Despite the fact that we're a hard news organization, and report only the hard cold facts (after they've occurred), many readers have been "speculating" about the next CDT winners with a level of morbid fascination that would do Gomez and Morticia Addams proud. These latter day Nostradami are expecting that a troika formed by Rainer Grimaldi III, Ms. Schindler, and Karol Wojtyla will be the biggest CDT of the year. (These CDT entrants are, of course, recent respirator-user Prince Rainier, Congressional stalking horse Terry Schiavo, and frequent hospital visitor Pope John Paul II.)
While we won't take bets--but, oh, are we tempted--we will be keeping vigilant watch over the fates of any and all celebrities who decide to keep the "death comes in threes" tradition alive.
* * *
One final note. We want to mention the passing of Dr. J. Mike McWhorter. While not someone any of our readers would know, Doc was a highly respected neurosurgeon who had served as the president of the Congress Of Neurological Surgeons. He was once approached by the Guinnness Book Of World Records for inclusion in that tome after having performed brain surgery on a single patient for over 40 hours (the patient lived). A wonderful man who also served as the advisor on "The Great Brain Book," he will be truly and forever missed. Thanks, Doc.
Back To Back To The Beyond
February 22, 2005 03:30 AM
Dear CDT Readers,
While many people took this week off in honor of dead presidents, we have no such luxury hear at Celebrity Death Trio™ Central. We write when three famous people die together, no matter when, no matter where, no matter why. It's our job; it's what we do.
This week finds us yet again experiencing a mad dash to the Finite Finish Line, with two sets of triumphantly terminal trios leaving the good life . . . back-to-back. It happened so fast, we didn't even the first week out in time. That's because everyone kept sending in their claims that the Pope deserved his very own death trio--you know, Father, Son, Holy Ghost. And the guy hasn't even died yet. It was like getting Vatican Spam.
Now that we've cleaned out the mail in our dead letter office, we can get down to business. We'll do this in reverse order to tap into those celebrity deaths that are freshest in your mind, and freshest in the dirt. So, take a moment, bow down your heads, and remember these celebrities who now partying at the Permanent Prayer Palace.
Herewith, the departed.
Week 1:
Hunter Thompson: Writer, Gonzo Journalist. One of the greatest writers of the 20th century, bar none. If it wasn't for him--and "Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas"--we wouldn't be writing the Celebrity Death Trio the way we do. He should be an inspiration to every aspiring modern writer out there, except for the suicide part.
Sandra Dee: Actress, Original Surf Chick. Born Alexandria Zuck, Sandra was the first Gidget, and was one of the first teen idols. She was also married to Bobby Darin. If life was fair, current teen idol Britney Spears would have offered to trade places with Sandra and Britney would now be the Grim Reaper's girlfriend.
John Raitt: Actor. John was to the Broadway musical what Brando was to film. He made a name by originating manly roles in plays like "Carousel" and "The Pajama Game." He may also have appeared in more musical performances than anyone--he performed with touring companies for some 50 years. He was also guitarist Bonnie Raitt's dad, which gets him extra points in our book--if not in St. Peter's.
Week 2:
Arthur Miller: Playwright. Arthur was the rock star of Broadway playwrights. He wrote "Death Of A Salesman" and "The Crucible," two of the best American dramas ever put on stage. Plus, he was married to Marilyn Monroe, which was more than the Kennedy brothers could claim.
Dick Weber: Bowler. Perhaps the greatest kingpin ever to grace the lanes, he won 26 titles and was a staple on TV during his long career. The guy was so good, even his kids bowled 300 games (true story).
Sister Lucia: Visionary and Personal Friend Of God. Her name may not ring a bell, but her childhood escapades will. She, along with her two cousins, claimed in 1917 to have seen the Virgin Mary appear to them in the village of Fatima in Portugal. Their sightings turned the place into a veritable haven for the faithful, who believed that the little kids were telling the truth (Lucia was 10 when this happened) and had been given secrets about the future. Two of the kids died within a year; Lucia lived almost 90 years longer. Talk about a conspiracy.
RIP, one and all.
While many people took this week off in honor of dead presidents, we have no such luxury hear at Celebrity Death Trio™ Central. We write when three famous people die together, no matter when, no matter where, no matter why. It's our job; it's what we do.
This week finds us yet again experiencing a mad dash to the Finite Finish Line, with two sets of triumphantly terminal trios leaving the good life . . . back-to-back. It happened so fast, we didn't even the first week out in time. That's because everyone kept sending in their claims that the Pope deserved his very own death trio--you know, Father, Son, Holy Ghost. And the guy hasn't even died yet. It was like getting Vatican Spam.
Now that we've cleaned out the mail in our dead letter office, we can get down to business. We'll do this in reverse order to tap into those celebrity deaths that are freshest in your mind, and freshest in the dirt. So, take a moment, bow down your heads, and remember these celebrities who now partying at the Permanent Prayer Palace.
Herewith, the departed.
Week 1:
Hunter Thompson: Writer, Gonzo Journalist. One of the greatest writers of the 20th century, bar none. If it wasn't for him--and "Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas"--we wouldn't be writing the Celebrity Death Trio the way we do. He should be an inspiration to every aspiring modern writer out there, except for the suicide part.
Sandra Dee: Actress, Original Surf Chick. Born Alexandria Zuck, Sandra was the first Gidget, and was one of the first teen idols. She was also married to Bobby Darin. If life was fair, current teen idol Britney Spears would have offered to trade places with Sandra and Britney would now be the Grim Reaper's girlfriend.
John Raitt: Actor. John was to the Broadway musical what Brando was to film. He made a name by originating manly roles in plays like "Carousel" and "The Pajama Game." He may also have appeared in more musical performances than anyone--he performed with touring companies for some 50 years. He was also guitarist Bonnie Raitt's dad, which gets him extra points in our book--if not in St. Peter's.
Week 2:
Arthur Miller: Playwright. Arthur was the rock star of Broadway playwrights. He wrote "Death Of A Salesman" and "The Crucible," two of the best American dramas ever put on stage. Plus, he was married to Marilyn Monroe, which was more than the Kennedy brothers could claim.
Dick Weber: Bowler. Perhaps the greatest kingpin ever to grace the lanes, he won 26 titles and was a staple on TV during his long career. The guy was so good, even his kids bowled 300 games (true story).
Sister Lucia: Visionary and Personal Friend Of God. Her name may not ring a bell, but her childhood escapades will. She, along with her two cousins, claimed in 1917 to have seen the Virgin Mary appear to them in the village of Fatima in Portugal. Their sightings turned the place into a veritable haven for the faithful, who believed that the little kids were telling the truth (Lucia was 10 when this happened) and had been given secrets about the future. Two of the kids died within a year; Lucia lived almost 90 years longer. Talk about a conspiracy.
RIP, one and all.
Graveyard Gridiron
February 04, 2005 06:29 AM
Dear CDT Reader,
As they say in the newspaper business, stop the presses. Right now. I
mean it. This instant.
We've barely recovered from last week's big Terminal Troika (Johnny
Carson, Philip Johnson, Rosemary Woods) when three more celebs
decided to walk the paradise plank this week--all just in time for
Super Bowl weekend. Nice timing--I mean, if you actually die on Super
Bowl Sunday, you're lucky if they even mention your passing in your
own living room. Unless you're the Pope, but that's a whole 'nother
CDT waiting to happen. And a lot of you are waiting for that, aren't
you? Be honest. It's not like you'll go to hell or anything. At
least, I don't think so.
So, just in time for a long weekend of football festivities, blow a kiss goodbye to the following ex-celebs who have taken their final run across God's Goal Line
and spiked their souls in The End Zone.
Herewith, the departed.
Max Schmeling: German boxer who was the great white hope of the Nazis
in the 1930s, even though he publicly disavowed Hitler and his band
of idiots. Schmeling knocked out Joe Louis in the upset of the
century, before a rematch where Louis kicked his ass to the ground in
less than three minutes. But Schmelling was a magnanimous guy: he
sent money to Louis later in life and even paid the expenses for
Louis' funeral. Very classy.
Ossie Davis: Actor, playwright, director and noted civil-rights
activist. He starred in over 80 films, and gave speeches at both
Martin Luther King's and Malcolm X's funerals. Only two months ago,
he received lifetime honors at the Kennedy Center. Talk about cutting
it close . . . (Interesting note: one of Ossie's first roles was in
"The Joe Louis Story.")
John Vernon: Great character actor best known (especially by the
esteemed readership of the CDT) as Dean Wormer in Animal House. He
also starred opposite Clint Eastwood in "Dirty Harry" and "The Outlaw
Josey Wales" was provided the voices of the Submarine and Iron Man in
the old 60's cartoon series. Best line: "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no
way to go through life, son."
RIP, one and all.
As they say in the newspaper business, stop the presses. Right now. I
mean it. This instant.
We've barely recovered from last week's big Terminal Troika (Johnny
Carson, Philip Johnson, Rosemary Woods) when three more celebs
decided to walk the paradise plank this week--all just in time for
Super Bowl weekend. Nice timing--I mean, if you actually die on Super
Bowl Sunday, you're lucky if they even mention your passing in your
own living room. Unless you're the Pope, but that's a whole 'nother
CDT waiting to happen. And a lot of you are waiting for that, aren't
you? Be honest. It's not like you'll go to hell or anything. At
least, I don't think so.
So, just in time for a long weekend of football festivities, blow a kiss goodbye to the following ex-celebs who have taken their final run across God's Goal Line
and spiked their souls in The End Zone.
Herewith, the departed.
Max Schmeling: German boxer who was the great white hope of the Nazis
in the 1930s, even though he publicly disavowed Hitler and his band
of idiots. Schmeling knocked out Joe Louis in the upset of the
century, before a rematch where Louis kicked his ass to the ground in
less than three minutes. But Schmelling was a magnanimous guy: he
sent money to Louis later in life and even paid the expenses for
Louis' funeral. Very classy.
Ossie Davis: Actor, playwright, director and noted civil-rights
activist. He starred in over 80 films, and gave speeches at both
Martin Luther King's and Malcolm X's funerals. Only two months ago,
he received lifetime honors at the Kennedy Center. Talk about cutting
it close . . . (Interesting note: one of Ossie's first roles was in
"The Joe Louis Story.")
John Vernon: Great character actor best known (especially by the
esteemed readership of the CDT) as Dean Wormer in Animal House. He
also starred opposite Clint Eastwood in "Dirty Harry" and "The Outlaw
Josey Wales" was provided the voices of the Submarine and Iron Man in
the old 60's cartoon series. Best line: "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no
way to go through life, son."
RIP, one and all.
Heeeeeerrrre's Johnny! Or His Ghost.
January 28, 2005 04:28 PM
Dear CDT Readers,
Just in time to warm you up after a bitterly cold week, three celebrities have called it quits and booked their final flight to paradise. And while they might have preferred that paradise had come in the form of, say, Hawaii instead of the Afterlife Bar and Grille, they certainly rest comfortably (forever) in the satisfaction of knowing they didn't go alone. So, in this late January edition of Celebrity Death Trio, we say goodbye to yet another group of ex-celebs who are standing in line at the St. Pete Meet-And-Greet.
Herewith, the departed.
Johnny Carson. Master of late night TV, once considered the most popular entertainer in America. Millions went to sleep after tuning into Carnac the Magnificent and Carson's sly wit. And when you think about it for a moment, it's a good bet you were conceived one night shortly after Johnny waved goodnight.
Rosemary Woods. Nixon loyalist (perhaps the only one on the planet) and secretary who was alleged to have erased the crucial 18 minutes of White House tapes that would have put Tricky Dicky in the slammer for covering up Watergate. The photo of her re-enactment of the fateful tape malfunction-which required her to do contortions that would have made a circus freak proud-became an enduring image of the Watergate era.
Philip Johnson. Perhaps the most important living (well, not anymore) architect in America. He was a co-designer of the original glass and steel skyscraper, New York's Seagram Building, which changed the way buildings were built all over the world. He was an aggressive innovator and promoter of new styles (he almost single-handedly created NYC's Museum of Modern Art), and designed the famed Sony building in NYC, California's Crystal Cathedral, and numerous skyscrapers around the country. And to show that he wasn't afraid of what people thought of his ideas, he built and lived in a glass house. Talk about ballsy.
RIP, one and all.
PS. The music fans amongst you have repeatedly pointed out that just over two weeks ago we had a musical celebrity death trio. While this trio doesn't quite rate as PEOPLE Magazine cover material or New York Times Obituaries celebrities, we've taken the requests under advisement and include them here. Consider it a post-mortem, if you will.
Spencer Dryden. Drummer for the Jefferson Airplane. Never achieved as much fame as bandmate Grace Slick, but he did sleep with her.
Jimmy Griffin. Guitarist and cofounder of the group Bread. While you may barely remember any of this group's actual songs, there were plenty of girls in high school during the 70s that cried themselves to sleep listening to songs like "If," "Diary," "Make It With You," and "Baby I'm A Want You." Okay, may not "Baby I'm A Want You," but definitely the others.
Danny Sugerman: Took over the management of the Doors as a teenager, and was the preserver-and main propagandist-of their legacy. Later on, married Oliver North's paper shredding Farrah Fawcett clone, Fawn Hall.
PPS. There were a huge number of additions to the subscriber list at the end of last year. If you've been added against your will, or wish to be dropped, send an email and you will be stricken from the record and referred to our dead letter office.
Just in time to warm you up after a bitterly cold week, three celebrities have called it quits and booked their final flight to paradise. And while they might have preferred that paradise had come in the form of, say, Hawaii instead of the Afterlife Bar and Grille, they certainly rest comfortably (forever) in the satisfaction of knowing they didn't go alone. So, in this late January edition of Celebrity Death Trio, we say goodbye to yet another group of ex-celebs who are standing in line at the St. Pete Meet-And-Greet.
Herewith, the departed.
Johnny Carson. Master of late night TV, once considered the most popular entertainer in America. Millions went to sleep after tuning into Carnac the Magnificent and Carson's sly wit. And when you think about it for a moment, it's a good bet you were conceived one night shortly after Johnny waved goodnight.
Rosemary Woods. Nixon loyalist (perhaps the only one on the planet) and secretary who was alleged to have erased the crucial 18 minutes of White House tapes that would have put Tricky Dicky in the slammer for covering up Watergate. The photo of her re-enactment of the fateful tape malfunction-which required her to do contortions that would have made a circus freak proud-became an enduring image of the Watergate era.
Philip Johnson. Perhaps the most important living (well, not anymore) architect in America. He was a co-designer of the original glass and steel skyscraper, New York's Seagram Building, which changed the way buildings were built all over the world. He was an aggressive innovator and promoter of new styles (he almost single-handedly created NYC's Museum of Modern Art), and designed the famed Sony building in NYC, California's Crystal Cathedral, and numerous skyscrapers around the country. And to show that he wasn't afraid of what people thought of his ideas, he built and lived in a glass house. Talk about ballsy.
RIP, one and all.
PS. The music fans amongst you have repeatedly pointed out that just over two weeks ago we had a musical celebrity death trio. While this trio doesn't quite rate as PEOPLE Magazine cover material or New York Times Obituaries celebrities, we've taken the requests under advisement and include them here. Consider it a post-mortem, if you will.
Spencer Dryden. Drummer for the Jefferson Airplane. Never achieved as much fame as bandmate Grace Slick, but he did sleep with her.
Jimmy Griffin. Guitarist and cofounder of the group Bread. While you may barely remember any of this group's actual songs, there were plenty of girls in high school during the 70s that cried themselves to sleep listening to songs like "If," "Diary," "Make It With You," and "Baby I'm A Want You." Okay, may not "Baby I'm A Want You," but definitely the others.
Danny Sugerman: Took over the management of the Doors as a teenager, and was the preserver-and main propagandist-of their legacy. Later on, married Oliver North's paper shredding Farrah Fawcett clone, Fawn Hall.
PPS. There were a huge number of additions to the subscriber list at the end of last year. If you've been added against your will, or wish to be dropped, send an email and you will be stricken from the record and referred to our dead letter office.