A Cascade of Celebrity Deaths

I would have written sooner, people, but I've been busy making a deal with Mrs. Bernie Madoff ... then I got distracted by Twitter. Isn't Twitter great? I just got a message that reads, "Breakup sucks dick." I don't think I can keep up with that level of eloquence.
Then there are all the obligatory Michael Jackson stories. Another distraction. Why do some of us think that celebrities are immune to mortality anyway? I guess it's because we think that they are a little larger than life.
As was sweet Farrah Fawcett. She did more for the calendar business than Julius Caesar. Farrah was the 1970s -- full of fun, frippery, and flirting. She was the girl next door -- the one who just might let you climb through her bedroom window, if the mood suited her. A symbol of American innocence, she was the girfriend every schoolboy could wish to have. Maybe that's why she fought so hard later to be taken seriously.
If I'd known that Gale Storm lived here in the Bay Area, I might have been tempted to visit her in the convalescent home in Danville. She was 87 when she died this weekend. I recall that as her star faded in the 1960s, she bravely did PSA's on TV about her alcoholism. That takes guts. It shocked a lot of people to see the funny star of "My Little Margie" suddenly being deadly serious, bringing up a topic that makes many queasy. People quietly put down their Tom Collinses on their TV trays for a good three minutes.
Yes, I'm old enough to remember "My Little Margie," one of the few TV shows that was actually named after a song. By the way, Ray Charles did a wonderful version of the tune back in the 1960s.
I always loved Fred Travalena, always marveled at his good-natured way of impersonating show biz icons. He was only 66 when he died in Encino on Sunday.
Death of a Salesman: It's being suggested that a slight blow to the head on an airplane ride may have contributed to the death of the great TV pitchman Billy Mays, who could sell sand to the Bedouins.
A tough weekend to die if you're a celebrity. Not much airtime or space for anything but Michael Jackson. A shame we can't see Billy Mays sell Demerol to Gale Storm on the television in the middle of the night as Fred Travalena does the Moonwalk.

Mr. B