I don’t know why I feel compelled to observe the deaths of celebrities the way I do. I only know that I always have, going all the way back to a couple of brief sentences I scribbled in an old pocket calendar on the day Elvis Presley died in 1977. (I was seven years old at the time.) A former girlfriend once told me she thought I was morbid for having such an interest in the passing of people I didn’t even know. I see it differently, of course. No, I didn’t personally know the people I write tributes for, but that doesn’t mean I feel no attachment to them, no grief at the thought that they’re gone, or that their lives — or at least their work — has had no direct effect on my own. Given my interests and obsessions, movie and television actors, novelists, screenwriters, artists, composers, and rock stars have often had more effect on me than many of my own relatives.
In any event, a lot of things got away from me in 2010, including a great many topics I wanted to blog about, and my patented celebrity obits comprise a pretty large subset of those lost blogging opportunities. That’s a tremendous source of frustration for me; I feel like I’ve failed at some kind of calling, as pretentious and self-important as that probably sounds. But I feel what I feel, right?
To try and make up a little for my “In Memoriam” failings, I will now present a list of all the celebrities who died in 2010 that I felt worthy of mentioning. They all deserve more than a bullet point, but I’m afraid that’s all I have time to give them. A handful of them did get a little more, up toward the first of the year, before the Summer Work Apocalypse got its claws into me. Those people’s names are hyperlinked to the relevant posts.
And to anyone who may agree with that long-gone girl and thinks I’m being morbid, I assure you I really did feel some connection to everyone on this list, even if it was simply a sense of familiarity due to their faces being on TV all the time as I was growing up.
2010 Media Wrap-Up
The next couple of entries probably aren’t going to be of any interest to anyone except me — and isn’t it cute that I think any of my entries are of interest to anyone except myself? — but these are housekeeping-type things that I feel obligated to do in order to satisfy my own OCD-fueled mania for lists and historical accounting, and I need to do them pretty damn quick, too, since the first month of 2011 is already gone. Anyhow, if for some reason you are interested in reading on, here’s everything on which I wasted my meager leisure time during the previous year…
In Memoriam: John Barry
A number of blogs have already commented on yesteday’s passing of film-music composer John Barry, aged 77, and I have little more to contribute except to note that a number of his scores rank among my all-time favorite music of any genre. (Yes, this formerly mullet-wearing rock-and-roll fan does have other musical interests, believe it or not!) Everyone seems to be focusing on Barry’s work for the James Bond films, but personally I love the moody atmosphere he brought to The Black Hole and the languid romanticism of both Out of Africa and Raise the Titanic (a near-universally panned film, but a lovely soundtrack).
Barry’s music was big and sentimental and it often took its time to develop a theme, making it perfectly suited for epic movies that wear their emotions on their sleeves — sadly, a type of film that nobody seems interested in making anymore. It’s therefore fitting that his last truly great work (in my admittedly biased opinion) was the soundtrack for one of the last great sentimental epics, Dances with Wolves. Oh, stop sneering. I know Dances has never been appreciated by the hipster movie-snob crowd, but for me it has always been and still remains deeply moving. It came along at just the right time in my life, I guess, to fully resonate with me on every imaginable level. And Barry’s music for the film — from the brutal staccato that accompanies the Pawnee attacks to the tender innocence of Two Socks’ theme to the blood-thumping grandeur of the buffalo hunt — is nothing short of sublime.
My favorite music from the movie, though — my favorite Barry piece, period — is listed on the Dances soundtrack album as “Journey to Ft. Sedgewick,” comprising Lt. Dunbar’s travels across the Great Plains with the grubby muleskinner Timmons early in the film. This piece evokes so much for me: an undefined yearning, a restless curiosity, wanderlust, the excitement of someplace new, the nobility of open spaces, the physical sensation of gazing upon beauty and feeling very small but in a satisfying way… I find this piece immensely uplifting, and of course it brings back a lot of memories of a long-past time in my life when Dances with Wolves was the big event and it was always the golden hour. If you want to know what I was like at the age of 21 — what I hope I’m still like in my better moments — it’s all right here:
Hey, I’m Sirius Black!

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I can live with that. Sirius was awesome, with his surface-level air of the swashbuckling rogue — I’ve always been drawn to those rogues — but also a grim and regretful side, which is much more like, well, me.
Perfect.
Julie’s Killer Charged
Just to keep you all up to date, the son of a bitch who killed my coworker Julie Jorgenson has been charged with second-degree felony manslaughter, as well as driving under the influence of a controlled substance and assorted misdemeanors related to driving like a f**king idiot. You can read the details here, if you like.
The article I linked above includes a few more specifics on what actually happened that frigid morning: Shane Gillette’s truck was moving at 70 mph, on a road posted for 30 mph, when it struck Julie’s car; there was no evidence he even tried to brake; and his windshield had only about six square inches that were clear of frost. There aren’t enough expletives in my vocabulary to express my feelings about this irresponsible, lunk-headed waste of protein.
Incidentally, I’ve received a couple of emails from people who knew Julie far better than myself, and who’ve run across my blog entries about her. I’m gratified that they seem to feel I captured her pretty accurately. If they’re reading this, I’d like to extend my thanks for their thoughtfulness in contacting me and letting me know.
We’re starting to move on at the office, but there’s still a strange tension in the air, as if we’re all expecting to her to walk in at any moment, flash that huge, endearing grin, and say, “Look, I’m all right after all! It was all just a misunderstanding!” I actually smiled myself as I was typing that, because I can picture it so clearly. It’s really very weird to think that it’s never going to happen, that I will never see her or her smile again. But that is one of the sad truths of life and death, isn’t it? People are here and then they’re not, and we who stay behind are left with unfulfilled expectations… holes in our daily experience.
Good Rick Springfield Interview
My main man Rick has been doing a lot of press lately in support of his memoir, Late, Late at Night, but sadly, many of the TV interviews I’ve seen have been pretty embarrassing, either filled with tittering “I loved you when I was 13!” silliness or focused too much on the salacious revelations in the book (yes, Rick is candid about having sex with pretty much anyone who offered, even after he married) instead of the lifelong struggle with depression and insecurity that the book is really about. Here’s a good one that takes the subject seriously. Looks like it was actually a radio interview that was videotaped, and it’s a little over 18 minutes long. Give it a look:
I’ve recently finished reading Late, Late at Night myself and plan to write down a few thoughts as soon as I get a chance. Stay tuned!
Nevermore
If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you probably know that I’ve long been fascinated by the so-called “Poe toaster,” the mysterious figure in the hat and white scarf who for 60 years visited the grave of Edgar Allan Poe in the middle of the night on the writer’s birthday (January 19) to leave behind offerings of cognac and roses. Something about this theatrical ritual appeals to my romantic heart, the part of me that thrills to pulp adventure stories involving secret societies and ancient duties passed down generation to generation. I like the idea of continuity.
Sadly, the toaster has come under increasing scrutiny in recent years. In 2006, overzealous spectators tried unsuccessfully to detain the toaster. In 2007, a man claimed he was the toaster. In 2010, there was no toaster at all. And now this year he has failed to appear for a second time, leading some to speculate that the tradition is over, either because the heirs of the original toaster aren’t willing to continue, or possibly because the 200th anniversary of Poe’s birth was seen as a good place to stop.
I’d like to think the toaster has just grown tired of the efforts to unmask him and is laying low for a few years, until the crowds get tired of waiting around and go home, so he can resume his tribute in solitary peace. Of course, I also like to think that the toaster is actually an immortal being who is fulfilling some obligation owed to Poe himself for reasons we will never know. The odds of either of these ideas being true aren’t very good. I’m afraid the modern world of ubiquitous video surveillance and would-be debunkers everywhere just doesn’t have room for these little mysteries anymore; sooner or later, the mythbusters will uncover the truth of all them. And how much less fun will there be in a time when we know for sure whether Butch and Sundance survived Bolivia, and where Amelia Earhart’s plane went down, and whatever happened to D.B. Cooper, and if Melvin Dummar made up the whole damn thing? These sorts of stories, these little remnants of harmless magic, enrich our culture, in my opinion. Clearing up the ambiguity of them diminishes us, just as Tolkien’s Middle-Earth was lessened by the departure of the elves. How’s that for a geeky comparison?
Meanwhile, in related news, I’ve learned via Boing Boing that one of my favorite actors, John Cusack, will be playing Poe in an upcoming movie titled — what else? — The Raven. Go here to see him in costume. No idea what the story is about, but he certainly looks the part, if nothing else. The Raven is due out sometime this fall…
Almost Lost the Cole Slaw!
I don’t know about you, but after vomiting up that extremely long post on the Persian Gulf War, I could use a little palate cleanser. Here’s something that’s been making the rounds (and which I posted on Facebook a few days ago), so apologies to those who’ve already seen it, but I’m really amused by it:
I’ve been trying to find out where this ad came from, but haven’t been able to track down anything definitive. Some people who’ve reposted it are claiming it was made for the Canadian market a few years ago, circa 2005 or ’06, and I’ve also seen assertions that the voices are actually the original cast members dubbing their look-alikes. Kirk and Uhura definitely sound like Shatner and Nichelle Nichols. I’m not so sure about Chekov and Scotty, though; they sound to my ear like they could be very good impersonations.
Whatever the provenance of this, though, it’s a surprisingly loving homage considering what it is, i.e., a commercial for a fast-food place. It’s so loving, in fact, that I’d rather watch this a dozen or so more times than see the J.J. Abrams reboot movie a third time. But then I’m getting increasingly stubborn about such things in my middle age…
Via.
The Gulf War, 20 Years On
Earlier this week, Josh Marshall reminded us that Monday night was the 20th anniversary of the start of the Persian Gulf War, and then he remarked that he’s “not sure which is more surprising: that there’s not a peep about this in the news or that, my god, the Gulf War was 20 years ago.”
I second that on all counts.
Twenty years… is that even possible? That’s roughly the same temporal distance that separated the Vietnam War from the Gulf War, and at the time the Gulf War was taking place, Vietnam seemed like ancient history to this very young man. Very relevant history (or so I thought at the time), but ancient nonetheless. And now I guess that dark January night in 1991 when I listened to the aerial bombardment of Baghdad live on my car radio must seem like ancient history to some other young man. And yet I remember it all so clearly. How could I not? Everything that was happening during that period — both in my personal life and on the worldwide scale — loomed very, very large in my mind. It all seemed so significant.
Well, That Didn’t Take Long
Comments are switched off again, following the arrival of 500 or so new spam messages in the past 12 hours. And that’s with a pretty aggressive filter setting. Just to make things extra challenging, everyone who left comments in the previous entry got filtered into the junk folder, so I had to go looking for the legitimate stuff. Obviously, this isn’t going to work.
Sorry, kids. I guess the only hope now is to wait until my webmaster Jack finds the time to do something about this, since I don’t have the skills myself. As before, if you want to respond to something, please email me or find me on Facebook…
Grrrrr.
Oh, in case you’re wondering, this week’s hot spam-driven commodities are apparently porn (big surprise), Schlage Keypad Deadbolts, and Mini Coopers. Now who’s actually going to buy a car because they saw a spam comment on some guy’s blog? I never will understand this marketing model…