Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Fly Me To The Tomb!

I still cut & paste, computers be damned. Frank Sinatra has been dead ten years ago today. The kind of crappy third generation photocopy of me and Steve Beai when I was known as Time King (long story) goes back to a photo used in Sammy Davis Jr.'s obit. The others are just me goofing with the copier and scanner. For the record, I was never much of a Sinatra fan, more a Dean Martin kinda guy. In the cool, cool, cool, of the evening, stick em on my hair, in the shank of the night, if the doin's are right, you can tell 'em I'll be there...(and if anyone asks, this is indeed where I got my story title "Shank of The Night." Not from a Kid Rock song). But, man, I was all misty-eyed when Robert Mitchum took the big dirt nap...Wayne


Charles Gramlich said...

I'm just going to look at those first two pics and stay away from the third one. My dreams are haunted enough by nightmares.

Capcom said...

I know, I was listening to my old "Frank and Friends with Sydney Whats-his-name" radio recordings this week. :-( I miss the Rat Pack. Joey Bishop was recently the last to go, I think.

Bing Crosby did that song with a girl singer too. It's a neat song.

Steve Malley said...

Dean-o was one underestimated genius: brilliant comedic timing (overshadowed by the Even More Brilliant Jerry Lewis), a really fantastic and subtle voice (overshadowed by the hype around his buddy Frank), and he wasn't a bad actor, neither.

So it goes...

HemlockMan said...

I never get upset when famous people croak. Never. Sure, I hate to see the fleeing of this mortal coil of folk whose talents I admire. But I don't get weepy about it.

I remember when James Mason kicked the bucket and one of my best friends smashed his electronic keyboard because of his distress over "man's mortality". I could have bitch-slapped him for that one.

This pal is also very emotionally attached to both Ray Bradbury and Forry Ackerman. I'll have to keep my eye on him, I reckon.

Anonymous said...

yup ... and no smell like the smell of rubber cement.
Computer just makes it easier and neater ... but it does open the field to a buncha no talent bums.
Oh well, like that matters.