Corb is currently sitting on our balcony with the heels of his feet jammed into two giant pink grapefruits.
Nope, you read that correctly. And no, I couldn't possibly be making something like that up.
Two grapefruits stuck to the bottoms of his huge size 14 hams.
"They're eating away at the dead skin, and making them smooth," he explained to me. "I read about it in a magazine."
Ah. That explains everything.
Apparently, it works on elbows, too.
So here I sit, writing this entry on the balcony, while Corb sits beside me, with his dead skin slowly being eaten away by citric acid.
Anyway, I couldn't let the absurdity of this situation go by without commenting on it, but what I really meant to write about tonight was this string of high profile celebrity deaths that have plagued this nation, recently.
No, I'm not talking about the lesser lights that have dimmed. That informercial guy, for example, or Fred Travelena. I'm sorry, I feel very bad for the families, but my idea of superstardom is not some guy pushing Oxy-clean on the cable in the wee small hours of the morning. As for Fred Travelena, I remember him from TV game shows. An impersonator, right? So I guess, in that respect, we've actually lost 300 stars in one day. Talk about "Night of a 100 stars"!
No, I'm talking about the biggies. Ed McMahon, Farrah, and of course, Michael.
This past Sunday morning, political junkie that I am, I was getting my weekly fix and happened across George Stephonopolis and his round table. Peggy Noonan was talking. I actually like her: she's the one conservative commentator that doesn't make me want to throw my television set across the room, in part because she usually treats the "other side" with a bit of decency and respect. Other commentators from both side of the political spectrum would be wise to take a few tips from her.
Anyway, she said that the reason that people are making such a big deal over "these three" is that, in this day and age, we're never again going to see stars as big as they are, ever again. To illustrate this, she talked about Michael Jackson performing the moonwalk at the Motown 25th anniversary awards, so many years ago. "I saw it, and my daughter saw it, and my mother called me up on the phone, and she had seen it, too," she said. "You just will never get that kind of commonality, ever again."
I don't know. I well remember a day when the old timers used to talk about Hollywood legends such as Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart, and say things like, "You'll never see stars like that again." Or, as Norma Desmond once said, about silent movie stars, "It's the pictures that got small."
But have our stars gotten even smaller, since then? Kristen Chenoweth aside, is our shared experience so diminished that there will never again be stars such as Ed, Farrah, or Michael again?
No, I think not. Stardom is forever, after all. It's just the mediums that change. First there were silent pictures, then the talkies. Then came the rise of the small screen. And these three were from that age, certainly: the age of television. Ed McMahon was broadcast into our bedroom every evening for thirty years. Farrah made her claim to fame in one short year on ABS. And Michael, for all his recordings, truly made the small screen his own, particularly on MTV. Who hasn't seen Thriller at least a dozen times?
Now television is, admittedly, fracturing into a million different pieces. But there will be common denominators to replace it: the internet, certainly, and whatever the next big thing is.
Still, it makes me wonder. Will we be talking about William Hung in such hushed tones, upon his passing, thirty years from now?
Ooops, gotta go. The dinner buzzer just went off, and Corb has just gotten up from his seat to get everything ready. The heels of his feet are covered in pinky pulp! I tell you, this night just keeps getting better and better.