The year 2009 was a huge success when it came to the number of famous people dying. Two biggies happened on the same day in June. After Farrah Fawcett ruined my morning and Michael Jackson put a damper on my afternoon, I started wondering who would be the third, or if Ed McMahon was the first of that trio. (Because, we all know that these things supposedly happen in threes.) Then I thought, what if Farrah was actually the third and Michael was starting up a new one? Then I wondered how big a celebrity they need to be to have the dubious honor of being included in this little pop culture superstition game. I am relying, for the most part, on my voice-activated software. If it knows who I’m talking about, then they’re in.
According to my few minutes of painstaking research, a healthy amount of so-called celebrities bought the farm that year. But I’m only counting the ones I’m familiar with or interested in. I intend no offense to the memory of any B, C, or D-list “stars” nor do I mean to show disrespect toward any 100-year-old silent film actors or any sports figures from the 1940s to the 1960s. So here are my unofficial results (in threes, of course):
Ricardo Montalban, Clint Ritchie (Clint Buchanan on One Life to Live), and Phil Carey (Asa Buchanan on One Life to Live)—I include these last two because I was addicted to that soap opera from 1984 to 1991 and again from 1996 to 1999. The other interesting thing I found was that Phil Carey was only 13 years older than the man who played his son. These three died within 23 days of each other. Ricardo Montalban always reminds me of Fantasy Island, which then immediately reminds me of that “little person” (also known as a “dwarf” or, in some circles, a “midget”) Hervé Villechaize who played Tattoo. He killed himself in 1993. (Can you blame him?) Incidentally, my research reveals that John Updike, who certainly merits mention, died along with this trio, making it a death foursome. I could re-order the list, but then it would separate the two One Life to Live guys, thus defeating the entire purpose of listing them together. Thanks a lot, Updike.
James Whitmore, Paul Harvey, and Ron Silver. Now this is an odd mix. Their deaths cover a 37-day time span, so if we are going for a one-month window, I may need to relegate Whitmore and totally revamp the list in a future edit. Whitmore was in a lot of old black-and-white movies. I generally hate black-and-white movies, so I am not really familiar with his work. But I did like him in The Shawshank Redemption where he played a pivotal role as the librarian. Paul Harvey always sort of got on my nerves, what with his “now you know…the rest of the story” crap. Sure, some of the stories were interesting or charming or whatever, but I really didn’t like how he kept you in suspense just so you could find out that some crippled, consumptive, poverty-stricken kid became an Olympic gold medal winner or something. Actor Ron Silver died of cancer. Coincidentally, that was his astrological sign. That is kind of like a Pisces getting killed by a fish.
Natasha Richardson, porn star Marilyn Chambers, and Bea Arthur. While they are spread (so to speak) over 38 days, I think I’ll carve out an exception simply because I like to see the name of a porn star next to Bea Arthur’s. Sorry you have the misfortune of their company, Natasha. As if dying from a bump on the head wasn’t bad enough. Marilyn was in this famous porn movie called Behind the Green Door. When I was about 14, I made the mistake of popping the VHS tape of it into a VCR while I was babysitting. Luckily the kids were asleep. Not so luckily, I got caught watching it when the unfortunate parents came home. Was I going to get in trouble for watching their porn? I think not, because they were the real porn-watchers. Speaking of porn, one way to really kill a boner is the thought of Bea Arthur. I grew up watching her as Maude. Later she was in The Golden Girls, which I guarantee they show reruns of in hell. Along with bad Kevin Costner movies.
Jack Kemp, Dom DeLuise, and David Carradine. Here we have 34-day coverage. I’m starting to think the 30-day goal is a little too tight. Speaking of too tight, they find Grasshopper mysteriously bound and hanged in a Bangkok hotel room. Trust me folks, there’s a Thai hooker out there who knows exactly what happened and how much he paid for it. Jack Kemp, even though he was a politician (and a Republican at that) was a little bit more cool because he had played professional football. And I like football. Dom DeLuise was amazing in his role as the flamboyant director of a musical in one of the Best Movies Ever, Blazing Saddles. “Watch me, faggots!” he yells. Beautiful.
Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson. Yes, it was those three within three days just as I suspected. If Farrah had started a new set, she and MJ would have been in the Billy Mays group, and I’m sorry, the OxiClean guy’s “celebrity” status would only add insult to injury. Or in this case, insult to death. I met Ed McMahon in an airport one time. I went up to him and said, “You look exactly like Ed McMahon.” He laughed and gave me his autograph on my boarding pass. Even though I didn’t ask for it. I think he was probably drunk. Come to think of it, I probably was, too. With regard to Farrah, I am glad the media downplayed the kind of cancer she had. No one wanted associate a sex symbol with anal cancer. Anal? What a pain in the ass that must have been. Really shitty way to go. I always identified with her because her character on Charlie’s Angels was named Jill. The similarity pretty much ends right there. At least I hope so, what with the anal cancer and all. When Michael Jackson died, my friend Kathy (who didn’t have a TV at the time) found out about it after hearing the rumor from a neighborhood kid. She Googled “Michael Jackson death” and the first thing that popped up was a spoof article in The Onion titled “Neverland Ranch Investigators Discover Corpse of Real Michael Jackson.” She really thought he had been buried there 20 years earlier and that the one we thought was Michael Jackson was a fake. She’s normally a very smart woman, but that day, she was an idiot.
Billy Mays, Karl Malden, and Walter Cronkite. How’s that for a trio? First, I thought Karl Malden was already dead. When I found out he wasn’t, I couldn’t believe he was 97. Ninety fucking seven? No wonder I thought he was dead. When “The Most Trusted Man in America” died within 20 days of Karl Malden and the OxiClean Guy, this was quite an honor for OxiClean Guy. On the other hand, were Walter or Karl to hear that the third member of their death cluster was a guy named Billy Mays who was a modern day snake oil salesman, they may feel a little slighted. Sorry Walter and Karl, I can’t just go back and edit my whole list now. Too much thought and effort and math went into it. As an aside, I’m not sure why I cried as I watched the news of Cronkite’s death and saw clips of his broadcasts. I think it was his announcement of President Kennedy’s death that really hit me. (Then I thought of Kennedy’s own death trio compadres whose deaths were totally upstaged by that assassination: Aldous Huxley and C.S. Lewis. Not bad company, as death trios go.)
Frank McCourt, the Taco Bell dog, and John Hughes. Sorry Frank and John, for organizational purposes (and because you died within 18 days of each other), you have to share your space with a talking Chihuahua. Frank McCourt wrote this famous book called Angela’s Ashes. I heard it was good, but because it sounded really depressing, I never read it. Plus I don’t like to read big books. The dog, Gidget was her name, became famous for saying “¡Yo quiero Taco Bell!” I only mention this animal because I love Taco Bell and because a talking dog is pretty cool. Especially one that speaks Spanish. Unless that was her native language, which, come to think of it, probably was, seeing as how she was a damn Chihuahua (a breed I generally do not care for–not because I am racist, which I’m not, mind you–but because they are too small and wiry and somewhat big for their little doggie britches). I must discuss John Hughes and list my favorite movies he wrote and directed. Here they are along with my favorite lines from each (many thanks to IMDb.com): Uncle Buck (“I’m Buck Melanoma. Moley Russell’s wart. Not her wart. Not her wart! I’m…I’m the wart. She’s my tumor. My…my growth. My…uh, my pimple. I’m Uncle Wart. Just old Buck ‘Wart’ Russell. That’s what they call me, or Melanoma Head. They’ll call me that. ‘Melanoma Head’s coming.’ I’m…Maisy Russell’s uncle!”), Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (“You’re Abe Froman? That’s right, I’m Abe Froman. The Sausage King of Chicago? Uh yeah, that’s me.”), Planes, Trains & Automobiles (“Where’s your other hand? Between two pillows. Those aren’t pillows!”), Weird Science (“How ‘bout a nice greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray?”), The Breakfast Club (“What was that ruckus? Uh, what ruckus? I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus. Could you describe the ruckus, sir?”), Sixteen Candles (“God, I hope whoever got that note doesn’t know it was me who wrote it. I’d shit twice and die.”)
Les Paul, Ted Kennedy, and Dominick Dunne. The guitar genius, the senator with questionable morals (isn’t that redundant?), and the bespectacled writer died within only 13 days of one another. (By the way, I am both surprised and pleased that I was able to use the word “bespectacled.”) Kennedy was lucky to die the way he did, being a Kennedy and all, it was fairly anticlimactic. Dominick Dunne made the cut because he wrote for Vanity Fair which is a magazine I like to say I read because, like The New Yorker, it is for classy people. Plus, he wrote about a lot of the big criminal trials like O.J. Simpson’s and the trial of the Menendez brothers–those rich little sweater-vest-wearing fucks who decided to gun their parents down when they wanted more money. I remember thinking one of them was kind of cute. He never responded to any of my fan letters.
Patrick Swayze, William Safire, and Captain Lou Albano. They died within exactly 30 days. I can’t discuss Patrick Swayze without choking up, so bear with me. When I hear the word “ditto” I always think about him in Ghost, and then sigh. Then I think about him in Dirty Dancing and remember “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” Then I sigh again because I vividly remember seeing that movie on a date and being disappointed that my life was so boring compared to that of Jennifer Grey’s character. I first fell in love with him when I saw The Outsiders. He said, “You just don’t stop living because you lose somebody.” Good advice from writer S.E. Hinton (who was a female, by the way). She also wrote Rumble Fish, which was made into the movie starring Matt Dillon, but I digress. I included William Safire because he wrote a lot about proper and precise use of the English language. Something I hold dear to my heart. Like the way I love my kids, only somewhat more unconditional. I only allowed Lou Albano on the list because the image of this wrestler with the rubber bands hanging from his face next to someone like William Safire (who would never have behaved so barbarically that I know of) made for an interesting and unexpected juxtaposition. (I am also glad I was able to employ the word “juxtaposition” here.) Another reason I added Lou to the list is because I remember him from Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun How she could take him seriously as her father is beyond me.
Soupy Sales, Oral Roberts, and Brittany Murphy. This so-called trio is an aberration because these famous people died within a 59-day span. This is because no notables (at least as far as I am concerned) died in November of 2009. Like maybe God was taking a break from all the paparazzi hubbub that was surely taking place up there. Soupy is one of those who I thought had already died. He was like 83, so that’s understandable. Apparently, he did a lot of stupid slapstick-type comedy. I hate that shit. Except for the Three Stooges. Now they were funny. Oral Roberts made the list because anyone named “Oral,” especially a televangelist, merits mention. What kind of parents would name their kid “Oral?” Apparently, that was the kind of birth control they wished they had used. Brittany Murphy’s death was a shock. She did the voice of Luanne Platter on Mike Judge’s King of the Hill. We have these cafeterias in Texas called Luby’s. That’s where you can get what they call a Lu Ann platter. If you are on a diet. Or elderly.
I hope I didn’t exclude any famous or semi-famous dead people from this list. I welcome suggestions, but will probably not honor them. Please feel free to add them in a tasteful comment.
