Because I’ve had a career that’s allowed me to interview some boldface names—celebrities whose names just ache to be dropped by the likes of peons like us—I sometimes have to stop myself when someone mentions Mark Twain or John Barrymore from blurting out, “Oh, yeah, I’ve met them!”
Three guys are reportedly paying $55 million each to book a flight on an Elon Musk rocket ship to visit the International Space Station sometime next year. The trip on the SpaceX Dragon craft includes an eight-day stay at the station, presumably with spa privileges.
Had he been able to call the shots a few weeks ago, I suspect that Howard J. Rubenstein would have sent out a news release that said he was going on “an extended, indefinite sabbatical” instead of admitting he died. Yet he did that very thing, at the age of 88.
Had he lived a blessedly long life, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., would have celebrated his 92nd birthday—not today, which is the annual holiday in his honor, but three days ago, on the actual date the spiritual father of Black Lives Matter came into the world.
Two juniors at Vanderbilt University are on a mission from Mod. They mean to make it possible for women their own age—as well as those a bit younger and some a bit older—to garb themselves for success with their self-designed (and cleverly named) age-appropriate fashion line, Ready Dress Go.
I was sorry to hear that Gerry Marsden, who headed the rock band Gerry and the Pacemakers, died early this month. It felt as though an entire era—the so-called “British invasion” of the early-to-mid 1960s— had been permanently withdrawn from our memory banks.
For 28 years, Jeff March and Marti Childs have been doing the write thing for their clients.
The co-founders and co-owners of EditPros create, edit and/or proofread everything from newsletters and websites to books and résumés. They also assist with correspondence, brochures and other marketing materials, based on the very solid presumption that being able to write isn’t a universal skill—and certainly not in the corporate world nor academia.
I wish you and yours a Not-as-Crappy New Year! Yes, 2020 is gone! Like the embarrassing acne of youth, Gallagher performances and the devastating flatulence of Rudolph William Louis Giuliani, some effects will linger but the worst may be over.
Reefer madness ran riot in California centuries before the 1936 movie of that name—which was intended to be a cautionary tale but became a must-see stoner film in the 1960s and ‘70s, much like Ed Wood’s ”Plan Nine From Outer Space.”
I first met Michael Dunlavey a little more than 34 years ago. His new one-man show of richly textural paintings—of everything from wave-beaten old boats to proudly resistant barns and Native American rugs—opens Friday at Blue Line Arts in Roseville, California (with a reception the next day from 4-7 p.m.
