“Daaaaaaamn, James Garner was hot as fuck!” – me 5 minutes ago while looking for pictures of James Garner
James Garner (born name: James Scott Bumgarner), the velvety-voiced, square-jawed star of Maverick and The Rockford Files flew off to heaven last night after dying at his home in Los Angeles. James Garner was 86. He died of natural causes. The Los Angeles Times says that James was in a bad way ever since he suffered a stroke in 2008.
James was born in Oklahoma and when he was 16, he joined the Marines. James later joined the National Guard and while fighting in Korea, he got shot in the ass by friendly fire and got wounded in the face (NOT THAT PRETTY-FUL FACE!!) from sharpnel fire. He got two Purple Hearts. After leaving The National Guard, he took a non-speaking role in the Broadway play in The Caine Mutiny Martial starring Henry Fonda. That led to TV commercials and TV roles. After acting in a few movies and TV shows, he got his big break playing Bret Maverick in Maverick. James Garner played Maverick for 3 years and it turned him into a star. In the 60s, he was in a million movies like The Thrill Of It All, The Americanization of Emily, The Children’s Hour and The Great Escape.
In 1974, James starred in the TV show that my abuelita religiously watched in the 80s when one of her Spanish channels played the dubbed version. The Rockford Files lasted until 1980 and he won an Emmy for it. In the 80s, he got an Oscar nomination for Murphy’s Romance and co-starred in the greatest Julie Andrews movie of all-time and forever Victor/Victoria.
You uneducated young whores out there who don’t know what The Rockford Files or Maverick or Victor/Victoria is, are probably looking at James Garner and saying, “That’s old Ryan Gosling from The Notebook and the grandpa from 8 Simple Rules!” For Shame.
And now I leave you with this priceless James Garner quote:
[Asked if he would ever do a nude scene] “I don’t do horror films.”
Rest in peace, James Garner. You are now in heaven, using your charm to sell Polaroid cameras to the angels:
Here’s more of James Garner’s hotness throughout the years:
Fuck that “dim the lights” shit. Break all the light bulbs on Broadway and shut the power all the way off, because Elaine Stritch has died!
The New York Times says that the legendary Broadway icon whose filter was permanently set to off and would always give hos several pieces of her mind died at her home in Birmingham, Michigan today. Elaine was 89. No other details were given.
Elaine moved back to the place where she grew up, Michigan, last year after living in Manhattan for most of her life. Elaine made her Broadway in 1946 and during her 60+ years on the stage, she was in Bus Stop (she got a Tony nom for that), Call Me Madam, Pal Joey, Show Boat and A Delicate Balance (she also got a Tony nom for that). Elaine Stritch was considered one of Stephen Sondheim’s muses and she created the role of Joanne in Company (which she also got a Tony nom for). Elaine’s one-woman show Elaine Stritch at Liberty won a Tony for Best Special Theatrical Event in 2002. Her last appearance on Broadway was in 2011 when she and Bernadette Peters starred together in A Little Night Music.
Non-theater queens probably know Elaine Stritch best as Colleen Donaghy on 30 Rock. She got approximately 1 million Emmy nominations for 30 Rock and she won once. One of my favorite Elaine Stritch stories was the one she told in her one-woman show about the time she auditioned for Dorothy in the Golden Girls and totally blew her audition when she offended the writer by throwing the “fuck” word into the dialogue she was given. And speaking of Elaine spitting out the “fuck” word, when she was on the Today show earlier this year, the morning buzz nearly jumped out of Kathie Lee’s body when Elaine dropped the “fuck” word. One of the many reasons to love Elaine Stritch is that she loved the “fuck” word and loved throwing it around.
This one hurts, because I thought Elaine Stritch would live forever. Here’s to that crusty, old broad! I’ll drink to that!
Rest in peace, Elaine Stritch. Hopefully her family buries her in her favorite fur hat and hopefully they also bury her with a grenade for the grave robbers.
This will be very sad news for those of you who ever spent a Friday night in high school in a dank suburban basement watching three of your friends practice “Beat on the Brat” while a girl named Jenny offers to give you a stick-poke tattoo in the laundry room. Variety says that Tommy Ramone, the last original member of the Ramones, has died at the age of 65 after succumbing to bile duct cancer.
Tommy (born name: Erdelyi Tamas) started the Ramones in high school with Johnny Ramone and played drums on their first three albums as well as wrote “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” and “Blitzkrieg Bop”, but decided he wanted to focus on studio work and being a producer, so he left the band in 1978 (at which point he was replaced by Lily Tomlin look-alike Marky Ramone).
So now Tommy joins the rest of the original Ramones in Heaven. Joey Ramone was the first to say “Hey ho, let’s go” and flew up in 2001, Dee Dee Ramone died in 2002, and Johnny Ramone followed him in 2004. And now that Joey, Dee Dee, and Johnny have a drummer, they can finally play “Happy Birthday“ for Jesus at his birthday party this year.
Don’t rest in peace, Tommy; keep playing as loud and fast as you always did. I hope you get noise complaints every single night from the other angels.
Seen above working the hell out of a man purse while strolling with his son in 2008, Robert Downey Jr. issued a statement this morning after his 20-year-old son Indio Downey was caught with the bad shit in West Hollywood yesterday afternoon. TMZ says that Indio was a passenger in a car that the cops pulled over because they noticed that another passenger was smoking something out of a pipe. Thanks, passenger who was smoking something out of a pipe! The cops pulled the car over and found some coke on Indio while doing a search. Indio was put into handcuffs, dragged down to the station, charged with possession of a controlled substance and he was released early this morning on $10,000 bail. In his sad and honest statement, RDJ blamed himself and said that sometimes addiction is passed on from generation to generation and sometimes the coke-snorting apple doesn’t fall far from the coke-snorting tree.
“Unfortunately there’s a genetic component to addiction and Indio has likely inherited it. Also, there is a lot of family support and understanding, and we’re all determined to rally behind him and help him become the man he’s capable of being. We’re grateful to the Sheriff’s department for their intervention, and believe Indio can be another recovery success story instead of a cautionary tale.”
Last year, Indio went to some hippie rehab place for a pill popping problem. At the time his mom Deborah Falconer told The National Enquirer that her son wasn’t addicted to pills, but he did spend time in a holistic rehab place and was treated with vitamin supplements and organic foods. In other words, Deborah Falconer might need to check into a non-holistic treatment center where she’s fed processed food and major amounts of canned cheese, because she’s been GOOP’d.
Hmmm, I wonder how that post-arrest conversation between RDJ and Indio went down. Indio probably shouted, “I learned it from watching you, dad! I learned it from watching you!” What RDJ needs to do is strap Indio into a chair, play him Less Than Zero and then scream at him, “This was my real life! Do you want this to be you? Do you want to find yourself sucking dirty junkie dick in a Palm Springs condo for a baggie?” And if I was RDJ’s son and he asked me that question, my answer would be, “Well, I’ve done it for a lot less, soo…“
When Bobby Womack crosses 110th Street up in heaven, next to him will be a glittery, jewel in the neon crystal chandelier known as the 80s. Yesterday morning I formed a prayer circle with a pair of triangle sunglasses and a puffy lavender trench coat when I read that a tangy heart string of the 80s Meshach Taylor was on his death bed and was about to make his way to the great big window display in the sky. Meshach’s family announced that he’s been suffering from a terminal illness and was making his “grand transition.” Meshach’s family announced this morning that he has transitioned into an angel. Hollywood Montrose from Mannequin and Anthony Bouvier from Designing Women died at his home in Altadena, California last night from cancer. Meshach Taylor was only 67. Meshach’s family left this message for his fans on his Facebook page:
It is with love and gratitude that we sorrowfully announce that our darling, amazingly brilliant and dynamic, Meshach, the incredible father, husband, son and friend has begun his grand transition. Our friends who know and love us, please offer your prayers for his peace and blazing light as he ascends to the heavens. Those who need to call the family please do. Those who desire to post memories, we are open and graciously accepting all gestures of peace.
Love, the Taylor Family Tariq Taylor Yasmine Taylor Tamar Lashae Taylor Esme Taylor
Meshach Taylor started his acting career in theater and after doing a few TV shows, he became the mint sprig in everyone’s sweet tea when he played Anthony Bouvier, the innocent convict turned delivery dude turned the Sugarbaker’s partner on Designing Women from 1986 to 1993. Meshach was nominated for an Emmy for playing one of the only voices of reason on that show. (Side note: Somebody should put Suzanne Sugarbaker on suicide watch) During Designing Women’s run, Meshach contributed to the world of cinema when he played the blueprint for Andre Leon Talley’s life, Hollywood Montrose, in one of 1987′s greatest achievements Mannequin! Hollywood Montrose spit out my life motto: “Two things I love to do is fight and kiss boys!” Meshach was also in Mannequin Two: On The Move.
After Designing Women ended, Meshach played Dr. Sheldon in Dave’s World. He made his Broadway debut as the singing candlestick Lumiere in Beauty and the Beast in 1998. He also hosted his own shows on HGTV (For why haven’t I ever seen that?!) and the Travel Channel.
Meshach is survived by his wife Bianca Ferguson and their four children.
Rest in peace, Hollywood Montrose and Anthony Bouvier, you are now in heaven where Julia Sugarbaker is taking orders from you and Estelle Getty is gagging over your window displays. Thank you for this:
When I read the headline “Prince Harry Recalls Princess Diana’s Death, Cries in Brazil While Meeting With Local Kids” at UsWeekly yesterday, I immediately went on Amazon to search for butt tampons, because I’ll be menstruating now since that headline made me grow a uterus and ovaries.
Prince Hot Ginge is in Brazil during World Cup because DUH. Booze, sports and drunken hos who are into sports are the bat signal to his Batman. PHG took a little break from drinking caipirinha out of a blonde trick’s ass while cheering for England (I don’t even know if they’re still in it, but if they aren’t, just go with it) to visit ACER, a project that reunites underprivileged, orphan kids with members of their extended family. PHG met a woman named Cristina da Cruz Nascimento and her two young granddaughters Carolina and Karina whose dad is in the clink and whose mother was murdered. After he talked to them, PHG told reporters that his eyes squirted out fire tears from listening to the girls’ story, because it made him think about losing his mom when he was 12.
“I was completely overwhelmed and shocked. There are two little girls — I’m quite emotional — just looking at them. I wanted to talk about my own experiences, but there is no point because it is just so far removed. The bravery of them looking at me, smiling at me… I wanted to use my own experiences in a very small way, to try to give them a bit of understanding about the fact, [that I saw what they] are going through.
It seems ridiculous for me to say to these kids, how lucky and fortunate they are, considering their situation. Obviously they are far from that.Other kids like this that aren’t as fortunate as them. One of these kids here was five days old when he was left on the street by his mother, because she was on crack.
I’ve never blubbed in public as far as I can remember. It was amazing to hear those stories.”
Hold your tears in, PHG! Hold them in, I’m coming! I’ll stow myself away in the wheel-well of a plane headed to São Paulo and when I get there, I’ll take off all my clothes and roll myself in aloe gel. I’ll be your Kleenex, PHG, I’ll be your Kleenex! You can even snot on me. I might be into that. But seriously, PHG weeping while talking to two little girls who lost their mother is the Bambi’s dead mom scene for this generation.
And here’s PHG doing more charity stuff in Brazil yesterday.
Tony, Emmy and honorary Oscar winner Eli Wallach has flown up to heaven where the angels are basking in the brilliance of the twin silver fields on his head, which kind of look like two silver baby weasels playing chicken. All of you oldies and/or people who watch a lot of movies on TCM know Eli from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (Eli was The Ugly), The Magnificent Seven, The Misfits and How To Steal A Million. Young hos who won’t watch anything in black and white are probably saying, “I loved him in The Holiday!” Eli’s daughter Katherine told The New York Times that he died yesterday from natural causes. Katherine didn’t give any other information. Eli was 98.
Eli won a Tony in 1951 for his performance in The Rose Tattoo. He made his movie debut in 1956′s Baby Doll and kept working almost up until his death. Eli’s last feature film was Wall Street: Money Never Sleep. Eli has been in over 90 movies and he once said that even though he’s been in classic films with Marilyn Monroe and Steve McQueen’s hot ass, he gets the most fan mail for playing Mr. Freeze in the Batman TV show in the 1960s.
Eli is survived by his wife of 65 years Anne Jackson, his three children, five grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
And now is a good time to pay tribute to Eli Wallach’s hand-on-face pose game. In this publicity picture from The Magnificent Seven, Eli is using the two finger technique. Bow down.
In other sadness news, Caleb Bankston, the fiancé of the evil villainess Southern queen Colton “My Black Friend Is My Housekeeper” Cumbie from Survivor, also died yesterday in a train accident. People says that the train he was riding in derailed. Caleb was on Survivor: Blood vs. Water with Colton. He was only 26.
So Eli Wallach and Caleb Bankston are holding hands while making their way up to the afterword. It’s a random pairing, but it’s good to have a partner while making your way to heaven.
Rest in peace, Eli. Rest in peace, Caleb.
On this depressing Father’s Day Sunday, we’re all making sad long distance dedications to Casey Kasem (born name: Kemal Amin Kasem ) who is now up in Heaven. Casey’s daughter Kerri Kasem announced on Facebook this morning that the world has lost the velvet-voiced radio legend who taught us all that 40 comes after 39 and 39 comes after 38 and 38 comes after, shit, I forgot, because Casey’s not here to tell me!
CNN says that Casey died at 3:25 this morning at St. Anthony’s Hospital in Gig Harbor, Washington. Casey had been suffering from Parkinson’s, Lewy body disease and his family’s ridiculous bullshit for a long time. Before Casey took his last breath, he was surrounded by his family and friends including his gold digging batshit crazy wife Jean Kasem and his Scientologist daughter Kerri Kasem. No word if raw ground beef made an encore performance on Kerri’s face. Kerri left this message on Facebook this morning:
Early this Father’s Day morning, our dad Casey Kasem passed away surrounded by family and friends. Even though we know he is in a better place and no longer suffering, we are heartbroken. Thank you for all your love, support and prayers. The world will miss Casey Kasem, an incredible talent and humanitarian; we will miss our Dad.
With love, Kerri, Mike and Julie.
Casey started his road to being a radio icon in the 1950s. Casey was drafted into the army and sent to Korea where he DJ’d a show on the Armed Forces Radio Korea Network. After he left the army, Casey worked for radio stations in San Francisco, Oakland, Buffalo, Cleveland and L.A. before he became the voice of American Top 40 in 1970. Casey hosted the American Top 40 for over 30 years before handing the mic over to Ryan Seacrest in 2004. And Shaggy from Scooby Doo is now mute and he’ll never say “ZOINKS!” again, because Casey was his voice.
Here’s my favorite Casey Kasem moment of all-time. “I want somebody to use his fucking brain to not come out of a goddamned record that’s uptempo and I’ve gotta talk about a dog dying” is Casey’s “We’ll do it live!”
Rest in peace, Casey…..
And now the world is left with Ryan Seacrest.
Oscar-nominated and Emmy-winning actress and civil rights activist Ruby Dee floated up to heaven yesterday after dying at her home in New Rochelle, NY. Ruby Dee was 911.
Ruby Dee’s rep told CNN that she died peacefully and was with her three kids and seven grandchildren at the time. Ruby’s husband of over 50 years Ossie Davis died in 2005. They were both civil rights activists and Ruby gave the eulogy at Malcom X’s funeral. Ruby’s long acting career started on the stage and she starred in A Raisin in the Sun with Sydney Poitier on Broadway and later played the same role in the movie. Ruby was in Jungle Fever, The Stand, Cat People (CAT PEOPLE!), The Jackie Robinson Story, Do The Right Thing and she was nominated for an Oscar for American Gangster. Ruby was in a million TV shows and if you’re a Golden Girls historian you know her as Blanche’s nanny who was Big Daddy’s side piece and the love of his life.
Rest in peace, Ruby Dee. You are now in heaven, having a beautiful open marriage with Ossie Davis.
Just a few weeks after she was declared the oldest living cat alive by Guinness World Records, 24-year-old (114-year-old in human years) Poppy of England has floated up to heaven where she’s biting at the ears of angels and rolling around in KFC. Poppy’s human Jacqui West tells Guinness that she died last Friday after dealing with a shitty leg problem and a water infection.
When Poppy got the world’s oldest living pussy title (not to be confused with the title of “world’s oldest and hardest working pussy” which belongs to Great Granny McCool’s cub-devouring chocha) last month, Jacqui said that she was already moseying around the door to heaven’s waiting room. Poppy was blind, deaf, biting at the other animals, her fur was as raggedy as Hugh Jackman’s in Les Miserables, she couldn’t walk too good, she was meowing for everything and she perfected the “over this shit” face. But Jacqui and her family still have the sads in a major way. Jacqui told Metro UK:
“We knew she was old but it’s still very upsetting. She had a bad week last week. She was on antibiotics on the Wednesday because of a water infection and her back legs just seemed to let her down. She wasn’t herself at all. She passed away on Friday at 3.30pm. I had spent the whole day with her as she was particularly poorly. It’s great she managed to get the World Record beforehand, it’s almost like she was purposely hanging in there because the process took months.”
In what I’m sure is just a coincidence, Poppy died just two days before the world’s living man Dr. Alexander Imich died at the age of 111 in NYC. Dr. Imich was named the world’s oldest living man just a month ago. So I guess the sloppy wet kiss of death is being named the oldest living anything and the next oldest living cat and man alive will tell Guinness, “No, I’m good, keep your little title.”
Rest in peace, Poppy.