The Walking Dreadful

Click here to go to most recent posts.

Donald Duck with a really bad hangover?

That's Peter Burns. Yes, Peter, not Petra or Petronella. He is the former frontman of Dead or Alive. The poor guy survived a botched lip job that got infected and almost killed him. It then took over 100 more surgeries to fix it.



Click here to go to most recent posts.

Live women to fill dead air

Notice the lovely symmetry of her...eyes...the contrast between her soft, warm hands, and the hard, cold steel of the socket wrench she grasps almost as a pool cue--almost as if she knows how to use it. Admire the lovely lines of the classic beauty--the young lady has nice lines, too, but unfortunately, she appears to get out less frequently than the machine behind her. She could use a little colour in her cheeks (all of them)--perhaps candy apple red?








Click here to go to most recent posts.

Dead man walking!

Yesterday, I took the longest walk since my recent heart attack. I went about two miles (round trip) to re-fill one of my prescriptions. It was quite pleasant even if most of the way my nostrils were filled with car exhaust and for a short stretch the fumes of some solvent from a homeowner who was painting or something. The worst part of the trip was paying the almost $100 for a one-month supply of Lipitor. If the heart attack doesn't kill and you survive the hospital food, the cost of medication should do the trick. I hope I die soon--I can't afford the meds that are keeping me alive! Did I mention the side effects of taking five different drugs each day? I'm not sure if I mentioned it because one of the effects is being in a stupor. I think I used to be a fairly smart guy. Now, when there's a knock on my door, I open the refrigerator door. It wouldn't be so bad, but now I'm 20 pounds overweight and I need to go on diet pills I can't afford.

Life is ebbing away

I'm 54 years old and I'm dying. I don't have cancer. I don't have heart disease. I don't have any terminal affliction at all. As I was watching a documentary about the making of the 1957 movie Sweet Smell of Success (starring Burt Lancaster, Tony Curtis and Martin Milner, best known for Adam-12), something I've been feeling for a few years now suddenly became clear. Every time another celebrity from my early life passes away, so too does a piece of me. I have seen hundreds of heroes and villains alike go to the great beyond. This evening, it felt like there's very little left of me to die.

It doesn't help that I have lost interest in some of the things that used to inspire, enlighten and fill my life with joy. I haven't been to the movie theatre in four years, before that, it was ten years. Between the years I was five and twelve years old (early 60's), I used to go to the movies once a week. It shaped my early impressions of life. Later, when I was about 20, I returned to my weekly habit of movie-going. That lasted about 10 years. It seems that the biggest draw became special effects.

I had the misfortune of having a formative mind just at the time that rock and roll was born. Misfortune, because once the explosion and subsequent wave of incomprehensibly historic music waned, for me, it was as if music had died altogether. Hip hop just doesn't cut it after living through Elvis, The Twist, Beatle Mania, The British Invasion, Woodstock, Heavy Rock, etc.

I never realized how much some of the celebrities who were a part of my life meant to me until they were gone. I don't even understand now why watching an episode of the Dean Martin Roast series on YouTube practically brings me to tears even though I might have a huge grin on my face. I mean other than the fact that probably about half the guests from those shows are ghosts now. It's as if the death of each figure from my childhood takes a little of the colour of my soul away and soon I will be invisible...like them.

I wasn't ready for it, although it's perfectly logical that a point would be reached where the rate of dying celebs from any era would reach a crescendo. At my current age, many of the actors, musicians, comics, etc. that I watched, listened to, laughed at and idolized in my early life, who were just establishing themselves are now about 65-75 years old--right about life expectancy for them. I have mourned so many of the older ones already; I feel I don't have the heart to endure any more. Here is just a sample of the prominent figures who met their maker in 2008...

Suzanne Pleshette - Emily on The Bob Newhart Show.

Roy Scheider - French Connection, Jaws

Sir Arthur C. Clarke - 2001-A space Odyssey

Richard Widmark - Judgement at Nuremberg

Charleton Heston - Ben Hur, Planet of the Apes

Dick Martin - Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In

Harvey Korman - Carol Burnett Show, Blazing Saddles

George Carlin - Comic

Larry Harmon - You probably know him by his "other name"--Bozo the Clown

Isaac Hayes - Wrote the theme from Shaft, the chef on South Park

Jerry Reed - When You're Hot, You're Hot, Amos Moses, Smokey and the Bandit

Paul Newman - List too long

Bettie Page - 50's pin-up model, early Playboy centrefold

Van Johnson - Actor

Rock and Roll Heaven

Q & A's from around the web

Why DID BUSH PROMISE TO CATCH OSAMA BIN LADEN DEAD OR ALIVE THEN FAIL??

Unless Bin Laden is right next to the oil, they will never find him.

Is this heart-wrenching or what?

A dog is run over by what appears to be two vehicles. Another stray attempts to rescue the already dead dog by dragging him away from highway traffic to the safety of the median.





This pooch is also "dog's best friend" and deserves a medal of valour. It's times like these that the memory of my own deceased pet touches my heart. Sometimes, it's an insult to beasts to describe humans as "acting like animals". Our furry friends are often nicer than our fellow man.

Ripped from the headlines

Portland Tribune - Fort McMurray, Alberta

A man has been charged with marijuana possession and cruelty to animals in an unusual case in this sleepy Canadian town. Fred Ketchup will be arraigned in court on Monday after police received a call about the suspicious death of a beaver.

A man walking along a ravine came upon the remains of the animal. The scene appeared suspicious and police were summoned. While authorities were investigating, incredibly, Mr. Ketchup, whose property backs onto the ravine, appeared at his back fence nonchalantly smoking a joint.

Police smelled the pot and went to speak with Fred. After a few minutes he was taken into custody and driven to the station where he allegedly confessed that he had stashed a bag of marijuana at the foot of a tree by the ravine.

Police released this photo as a warning to area beavers of the dangers of marijuana.

Philanthropist Paul Newman Passes Away at 83 of Cancer

There is no doubt that Paul Newman was one of the all-time giants of Hollywood. He was a true superstar, starring in such films as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Hustler, Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, The Sting, and The Color of Money just to name a few.

Just last night in the wee hours when I was watching TV as is my practise to do so to help me fall asleep, I came across The Sting, a movie I had seen when it was in theatres back in 1973. It is a delightful film that succeeds in getting the audience on the side of the bad guys. I imagine it's quite a treat for the ladies, containing two heart throbs, the other being Robert Redford.

Newman was nominated for an Oscar ten times winning three of them. So, why does the title of this article refer to him as "philanthropist"? Paul Newman never felt comfortable being showereed with every accolade from "brilliant" to "icon". Forgive my presumption, Mr. Newman, that "philanthropist" is a label you might be more at ease with.

In the early 1980s, Newman started up the "Newman's Own" brand as a way to sell his homemade salad dressing. The company, which also made popcorn, spaghetti sauce and other products, has turned into a multi-million dollar business and has donated $175 million to charities.

Paul Newman was married to Joanne Woodward for 50 years, rare by Hollywood or any standard.

When asked by Playboy if he was ever tempted to cheat on his wife, Newman replied, "I have steak at home, why go out for hamburger?"

We lost a good one

I have just learned of the passing of Bernie Mac. What a shock. The man was only 50 years old--younger than I, when he succumbed to pneumonia in hospital this past Saturday. Many people are funny, as Bernie most definitely was, but Bernie was a genuinely nice guy, born into poverty in Chicago, did well for himself, chose not to go to Hollywood and was married for 30 years. RIP, Bernie