One knows they are getting old when their childhood idols begin to depart faster than half priced chicken on food stamp day. Two of these individuals meant much to me as a child. One of them let me know in adulthood that I wasn't a freak, there were others like me. Thankfully none of them were cracked out, has - been pop stars. Unfortunately because they were not, their deaths either went unnoticed or scarcely mentioned. I feel like since they gave so much to me, the least I could do was dedicate a blog to them.
One lucky Monkee.
Davy Jones passed away on February 29th, 2012. His death saddened me greatly. As a kid I used to watch The Monkees everyday after school. Also his guest appearence on The Brady Bunch ranks right up there to the episode where Greg changed his name to Johnny Bravo and the epic three parter set in Hawaii (which has given me an irrational fear of ever possessing a tiki statue). To this day if I had to chose to watch an episode of The Monkees or listen to a Beatles song, I'd chose The Monkees every time. I will stab anyone in the face with a soddering iron who claims that Davy Jones wasn't an influential artist. He had one dance move which was later adopted by Axle Rose. Who now has one dance move. I dont see how one could listen to these songs and claim they're not good (all were top 3 on the Billboard charts): "Last Train to Clarksville", "Pleasant Valley Sunday", "I'm a Believer" (their version, not the abomination that was made for the Shrek film), And "I'm Not Your Stepping Stone". Now for the coup de grace for my argument for Davy Jones: "Daydream Believer" is the greatest pop song ever made. This isn't open for discussion. It's settled science. Rest In Peace Mr. Jones.
This is exactly how the show starts.
Watch it! 2AM on FoxNews
The very next day, I was rocked with another death of an admired celebrity that hit me harder than a steel chair shot delivered by hardcore wrestling legend Terry Funk. Andrew Brietbart Left way too soon at the age of 43. Most that know me well, know I love politics. My friend Murph claims that my ability to talk politics will save me during the sure to happen zombie apocalypse. He asserts that whence surrounded by the undead if I'd start spewing my political rants, it would cause the brain munchers to retreat because it's part horrible, part uninteresting, and part inarticulate. Thus ensuring my survival. I've always been political. I find it interesting (even if Murph doesn't). I use to keep a zipped lip about it because of my beliefs. I'm not a Democrat. I'm not a Republican. I'm a Conservative that flirts with Libertarianism. I use to view Conservatives as stuffy old white guys that ran oil empires. That's not the case. Andrew Breitbart, and Greg Gutfeld, have shown me that there are Conservatives like me. The only cable news programming I watch is Red Eye, Gutfeld's show that Breitbart was a regular guest on and had a hand in bringing to cable news. They drink (I don't), they smoke (I do), they cuss (have you ever listened to Big Kev's View), they're young, they're funny, and they're willing to take Liberals on the way Liberals take us on. I'll never be as articulate, creative, and funny with my beliefs as Breitbart but he was one of the ones that let me know it's alright to have a voice. Go use it. Sorry Murph. Sorry zombies, I will do what must be done. Thank you Andrew.
The picture that started it all.
Last night was the goocher. I was googling Star Wars for news and saw it. Ralph McQuarrie had died. Most outside the realm of Geekdom won't know who he is. To a Star Wars nerd he's probably more important than King George himself. He's the concept artist that's most responsible for bring Star Wars to the big screen. Lucas commissioned him to do a set of designs he could take to 20th Century Fox. The studio saw the art and green lighted the project. Thus beginning my 35 year love/ hate relationship with a movie franchise. More importantly, he inspired me to take up art. I could technically do it, but I could never be an artist. As you all know from reading my blog, I lack imagination. That is the key element in art. It didn't matter. As I look back on my childhood, some of my happiest memories are simple ones. Me alone in my room, record player going, laying in the floor with my supplies trying to recreate McQuarrie's art. Thanks Ralph. He is now one with the force.
I'm certain as the years roll on, more will die. I'll be weepy all over again over Jordan, Montana, Rice, Musial, McGee, Jagger, Richards, and Frehley. dying is part of life. We all have to cope with loss and face our own demise. That doesn't mean it doesn't suck. It sucks hard. At least I can take comfort in knowing that if those I mourn rise and walk the Earth in search of brains, I have the tools to survive.
