SubscribeStar Saturday: Celebration of Life for Bob Gunn – Remarks

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Earlier this year one of my dear colleagues, Bob Gunn, passed away after suffering from a stroke.  He had worked at my school since its founding in the mid-1990s, and was an integral part to its operation, its culture, and its legacy.

Tonight (Saturday, 22 June 2024), my school is hosting a celebration of life service in honor of Bob, his legacy, and his memory.  I’ve been asked to say a few words, which I have included in this post.

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Monday Morning Movie Review: Rest in Peace, Roger Corman (1926-2024)

Legendary “B” movie director and producer Roger Corman passed away last Thursday, 9 May 2024, at the age of 98.  His career spanned an uncountable number of films (estimates vary wildly; even Corman didn’t know how many he’d made), and he launched hundreds of careers.

Readers most likely know Corman from The Little Shop of Horrors (1960), which spawned a Broadway musical and a popular film adaptation of the musical in 1986.  His influence reached even broader than that one bit of comedy horror genius, and Corman worked with some of the greatest actors in Hollywood.

Last month I reviewed A Bucket of Blood (1959), a kind of proto-Little Shop featuring a would-be Beatnik stumbling into a career as a sculptor with a rather lethal methodology.  The trope of the homely nerd staggering blindly (and often painfully) into stardom and/or super powers would be repeated time and again, including in Troma Entertainment’s The Toxic Avenger (1984)  Corman was not involved with that film, but his influence is evident nonetheless.

Corman was one of the greats.  Hey may have had a reputation as a purveyor of trash, but he never lost money on a film (with the exception of a personal art film, which ultimately did make money about twenty years after its release!).  He used every method at his disposal to cut down on budgets, even cutting films to 78 minutes so they could be mailed to theaters in four film canisters instead of five.

Rest in Peace, Roger Corman.

Celebrating the Life of a Friend

My friend Jeremy Miles passed away last year after a brief struggle with cancer.  He was a gifted poet, with several self-published volumes before his passing.  I highly recommend his poetic output.

Besides being a great poet and a great friend, Jeremy was a builder of community.  It’s not what you’d expect from a Gen Xer clad entirely in black from head-to-toe, often with a trench coat, always with his signature black hat.  Our mental image of such a figure is a misanthropic outsider, or a socially awkward anime fanboy.

He was neither—well, maybe he was a little misanthropic, but aren’t we all after a certain age?  Regardless, he became an essential part of, and helped to build, a thriving open mic scene in the glorious Before Times, in the Long, Long Ago, before The Age of The Virus.

His longtime girlfriend/common-law-wife hosted a celebration of life/memorial service/birthday party in late January 2024 to celebrate Jeremy’s life and what would have been his birthday.  She wanted it to be an open mic, and I’m sure Jeremy would have approved.

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Rest in Peace, Jeremy Miles

Earlier this week, my good friend Jeremy Miles passed away after a struggle with cancer.  Long-time readers will know that Jeremy was a writer and poet, and released several volumes of his poetry over the past few years (somehow I missed his last release, Shadows in Suburbia; sadly, it will be the only volume of his poetry in my collection that will never host his autograph).

Jeremy’s influence in the tiny world of Florence County, South Carolina coffee shops was absolutely massive, to an extent and in a way that he in his self-deprecating humility would never acknowledge.  His poetry captured the spirit of a golden age of open mic music, that glorious period in The Before Times, before The Age of The Virus, when musicians and poets promiscuously plied their creative wares in a supportive and encouraging environment.  His first published collection of poetry, A Year of Thursday Nights: Everyday Poetry, conveys the energy and creative ferment of those halcyon days, all with his sly humor and playful wit.

He was also a good man—a great man.  Always clad in black from head-to-toe, and always wishing it were Halloween, he always encouraged those around him with his gentle demeanor.  He was that guy that looked cool, but was never intimidating or exclusive about his natural coolness.  He was cool, yes, but warm—a warmth that derived from his sensitive and reflective nature.  Anyone was welcome in Jeremy’s circle, and if you could quote Big Trouble in Little China, even better.

Jeremy was moved to hospice this past Sunday, and passed early on Tuesday, 10 January 2023.  I was unable to visit him before his passing.  While I regret that, his girlfriend pointed out to me that now I will always remember him as he was—joyful, funny, ebullient, full of life, a shining beacon of friendship and love, even in all-black.

I regret, too, not spending more time in conversation with him this past year.  He was rallying and even played a few songs with his band, Jeremy and the Blissters, but the cancer—that terrible, wicked disease—won out in the end.

But cancer cannot destroy the culture that Jeremy created.  Nor can it destroy his memory.

I will miss him deeply, as I know many others will.

Rest in peace, Jeremy Miles.

Paradise By the Dashboard Light: Rest in Peace, Meat Loaf

On 20 January 2022 Heaven added a powerful new voice to the Heavenly Choir:  Marvin Lee Aday, better known by his beefy stage name, Meat Loaf.  Meat Loaf passed at the age of 74 surrounded by family.

Celebrity deaths don’t usually hit me all that hard, but Meat Loaf left his mark on me.  My older brother played “Paradise By the Dashboard Light” for me when I was in high school—and I initially didn’t like it!  But a friend reintroduced me to Meat in college, and by then I’d come to appreciate the cheeky melodrama of Jim Steinman’s songwriting combined with Meat’s gospel-drenched vocals.

As one of the early members among the ranks of Obese-Americans—now a protected class, I think—and a young man with ambitions to bring panache and humor back to rock ‘n’ roll (which in the early 2000s was moving from angsty grunge to angsty new rock), Meat Loaf left a big—no pun intended—imprint on my musical imagination.  His powerful, sweaty vocals and Broadway-meets-rock-meets-gospel style really spoke to me:  a perspiring, fumbling mass of dough and latent musical ability.  I don’t go in for all that “representation” stuff, but if a dude like Meat Loaf could make it, so could I.  Fat White Guy Solidarity!

The songwriting of his frequent collaborator (and legal rival), composer Jim Steinman, also captured my fervent imagination.  The ironic lyrics (“but there ain’t no Coupe Deville hidin’ at the bottom of a Cracker Jack Box”), the hilarious titles (“Life is a Lemon (and I Want My Money Back)” and—of course—“I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)“), the bombastic composing techniques.  Suddenly, Broadway, rock ‘n’ roll, and even Southern gospel fused into this incredible music that elevated doughy teenaged ennui and youthful passions to Wagnerian heights.

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In Memoriam: A Triple Obituary

In lieu of Supporting Friends Friday, I’ve decided to dedicate this Friday’s post to the memories of three great men that left us in the past week.  One was a beloved funnyman; the second an influential public intellectual; the third a former colleague’s husband.

That order is not indicative of a ranking by significance or importance, to be clear.  As I noted, I consider all three of these gentleman to be great men.  Each contributed something to the world in their own way.

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Lazy Sunday CI: Obituaries, Part I

Dedicating two Lazy Sundays to obituaries is a bit grim, but after Rush Limbaugh’s death last week and a solid week of cold, rainy weather, it seemed appropriate.

As I began looking back at posts about deaths, I was surprised to see I had written several obituaries and memorials (enough to split this retrospective into two parts).  2020 was a particularly difficult year, as we all know, and it took some of the greats with it.

Too many.  But, as my blogger and real-life friend Bette Cox noted on my Limbaugh memorial, she doesn’t wish for a peaceful rest, but a joyously busy time in Heaven.  I’m sure Rush has a golden mic up there, broadcasting praises to Christ for all eternity.  Excellent in Broadcasting, indeed.

  • Breaking: Conservative Commentator Charles Krauthammer Dies at 68” – This post was the first (I believe) I wrote about the passing of any public figure on the WordPress version of the blog (other than a blurb about Michael Jackson’s death on the old Blogger site).  Krauthammer was a bit of a squish by today’s standards, and it would be interesting to see how he would have fallen on Trumpism after four years, but he was one of the more creative and intelligent pundits on the airwaves.  I always enjoyed his writing, and his interesting insights into human nature.
  • Rest in Peace, Herman Cain” – The Godfather of Godfather Pizza, and one of my favorite political figures of the twenty-first century, Herman Cain was, in some ways, a prelude to Trump:  fun, humorous, controversial, down-to-earth, and populist.  I loved his “9-9-9” Plan, if for no other reason than it was good marketing (and because of his belief that (to paraphrase) “if 10% is good enough for God, 9% is good enough for the federal government).
  • Remembering Ravi Zacharias” – Since his death, allegations surfaced that Ravi Zacharias was a sexual predator; sadly, after intense investigation (fully and transparently conducted and supported by his ministry, RZIM), it seems these allegations are true.  That’s a terrible coda to an otherwise exemplary career.  Zacharias may have fallen to temptation later in life, but it does nothing to erase his impact on generations of Christians.  He still won thousands of souls for the Lord, and his detailed apologia for Christianity still stand powerfully.  His fall serves as a powerful reminder, as The Didactic Mind put it, to “not base your faith on the words of men.”  It’s also an admonition to finish the race strong.

That’s it for this weekend’s obituaries.  Rather than dwelling on them gloomily, let’s think of them as a celebration of life, both in this world and the next.

Happy Sunday!

—TPP

Other Lazy Sunday Installments:

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Rest in Peace, Rush Limbaugh

Talk-radio legend and the master of the golden mic Rush Limbaugh passed away Wednesday after a fight with lung cancer.

Limbaugh—who fans affectionately called Rush (or “El Rushbo”)—pioneered the conservative talk-radio format.  After the lifting of the FCC’s Fairness Doctrine in 1987, radio and television no longer were required to present both or all sides of an issue being debated.  That made it possible for entire programs to be dedicated to commentary tilted towards one political worldview or another.

Into that new media environment stepped Rush.  He was the first of many to seize upon the idea of delivering withering attacks on the Left and Democrats through the format of a three-hour radio program.

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Rest in Peace, Alex Trebek

Alex Trebek, the long-time host of Jeopardy!, passed away at 80 after a long fight against pancreatic cancer.

Trebek seemed to have the perfect attitude for a high-brow quiz trivia show that was also hugely popular with audiences:  one of almost passive-aggressive superiority, a certain smugness that was just elusive enough a viewer couldn’t accuse him of it based on a transcript of what was said.  Trebek routinely mocked—but can it really be called mocking?—guests who flubbed questions he believed to be easy.  But he also possessed a Canadian niceness that made him easy-going, albeit curt, with contestants.

None of that is meant to speak ill of Alex Trebek, or to make light of his passing.  Everyone reading this post knows exactly what I’m talking about—Trebek’s ability to get in a subtle jab at a player $1000 in the red, while then glad-handing with them after the return from the commercial break.  Saturday Night Live picked up on it in its playful Celebrity Jeopardy! send-ups, which featured the hyper-masculine (and also recently deceased) Sean Connery goading on a flustered Trebek. 

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Phone it in Friday XVI: Week in Review (5-8 October 2020)

I’m out of town for a few days, so I’m resorting to something I rarely do:  a week in review post.  Some bloggers feature these weekly, such as my blogger buddy Mogadishu Matt.  I sort of did one back with “Lazy Sunday LVIII: Spring Break Short Story Recommendations Recap,” but that was more a review of a week-long series of posts, not a review, per se, of the week itself.

Ah, well.  That’s just nit-picking.  Here’s what I wrote about this past week:

That’s it for this edition of Phone it in Friday.  Here’s hoping I wrote some material good enough that you don’t mind reading it (and reading about it) again.

Happy Friday!

—TPP

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