Paul Newman, the American acting and salad dressing legend who once gave my dad the finger after JG1 offered to buy him a drink in a Connecticut bar, is dead. The culprit? Cancer, that conniving conundrum of killing that cuts down corn fields of Camericans cevery csingle cday. Newman was 83.
LeMar had P-P-P-Paulie-O String Cheese in this blog’s Totally Rockin’ 2008 Death Pool-O-Rama (In Color!), adding seventeen points to his already commanding lead of twenty-nine. That brings the current scores to:
LeMar M. – 46
Nathan C. – 16
Everybody Else – 0
Remember, number of points is determined by the person’s age subtracted from one hundred. I don’t remember what happens when someone dies at 100 or 102. The world explodes, I think.
This would be a great time to link a useful website Death Pool participant John P. alerted me to the other day:
As the name suggests, this database can tell you instantly if someone famous is alive or dead. Chris Farley? Dead. Van Johnson? Somehow, inexplicably, still alive. Curse you, Van Johnson.
One time in the seventies my dad spotted Paul Newman at a bar he liked to frequent. Minutes later, the following conversation apparently took place:
MY DAD: Hey Paul, can I buy you a drink?
PAUL NEWMAN: No.
I sometimes embellish this story by adding a middle finger or crotch grab on Paul’s behalf. I do that because one time I tried to use his steak sauce and, not realizing the bottle wasn’t one of those plastic capped shaker deals, accidentally glazed my entire kitchen table with it. Imagine your whole meal ruined by some former actor’s tangy blend of ketchup and Worcestershire. Now you know my private pain.
That’s right, Paul. I’ve been telling people you jostled your package in my father’s general direction. Try to live with that kind of press. Your career is ruined. Your grinning visage will sell salad dressings and popcorn no more. Victory is in the hands of the Greenes. Enjoy your long, dark eternity in Hell. I hear they have cable down there (but there’s only one channel, and all they show is “The Dog Whisperer”).
Did your Schedule C (sole proprietorship) business engage in the sale or production of cider, maple syrup, or wine?
No, it most certainly did not, although I will admit there are times—and I think every freelance writer goes through this—when it seems the sale and/or production of cider, maple syrup, or wine would be the perfect way to get your name out there. I mean, look at Paul Newman. He doesn’t have to act anymore, thanks to all the foodstuffs he produces. So, yeah, Tax Man, I thought about it, but I didn’t do it. I got more pride than that.
P.S. I took down my “What’s In The News?” post because it seemed hacky and irrelevant. Coming up later—a review of the very first “Simpsons” episode! Hot dog!