While others have been grieving the passing of major show business legends - a major recording artist (Charlie Drake) and a slapstick genius (James Brown), I would like to draw your attention to the passing of Dennis Linde.
Mr Linde was the composer of the Elvis hit "Burning Love", which, as the title suggests with not too much subtlety, was about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases. Way ahead of his time, and ostracised for being so explicit, he would have perhaps become more famous had Elvis recorded the other song penned at the same time "Stop taking drugs and mainlining hamburgers, you overblown, past-it ball of blubber".
He will be sadly missed.
Post Script, 27th December. Bloody Americans eh? One of our great slapstick comedians dies, and then they have to go and try to cap it.
17 comments:
It's no "Christmas in the Ghetto," sweetheart.
This is so moving.
Just off to Finland now. See you tomorrow.
That was just about the only thing he did though. I don't think a hunka hunk o' burnin' love can hold a candle to My Boomerang Won't Come Back
Charlie Drake? Mick & Montmerencey!? You really know how to bring a Christmas down Vicus. I'm devastated now...I only watch TV ads for MFI and DFS so had no idea....
I read your post to my husband and he laughed. This just goes to show you that no matter what side of the pond, males are males.
I'm leaving now so as to not contaminate him further.
Oh, did I tell you that your card arrived? It did! I would like to know the names of the sqaulling infants on Santa's lap. Are they yours?
Now you've killed off Gerald Ford. I hope you're bloody proud, Vicus.
Yes, I should have started with the current president, shouldn't I?
I gather the PM's plane overshot the runway, but that he's unharmed. Shoddy work, Vicus.
Just to clarify.
I am not responsible for the deaths of Charlie Drake, James Brown, Gerald Ford or Mr Linde.
I did not attempt to take the life of the prime minister.
I take great offence at the suggestion that I would involve myself in such activities.
Just off to the Thatcher residence with some rat poison.
I'll race you
Former Chairman of the BBC doesn't quite trump an ex-president, does it?
That was my favourite Elvis song.
Happy holidays, Darling x
Had you taken care of the current president this yank would erect a large monument in your honor.
How did it go over at Maggie's house? Hmmm.....?
Now who are those men in trench coats and reflective sunglasses and what are they doing at my door?
Run Kindness! Run!
Where to begin?
First, I suppose . . . . OWWWWWHHH HUNHHH I WANNA JUMP BACK AND TOUCH MAHSELF GOOD GOD HUNNHHH!!!!
Second . . . . Here Liberty, that's a good dog . . . not toward the airstairs girl . . . WHOAAAAAAAAA . . . . THUMP!!!
Third . . . Want some fries with that cheeseburga, mama?
Fourth - and I'm not making this up - the Washington Post obituary writer who composed their Gerald Ford obituary died last January. Either I guess he died from boredom after the subject matter, or else the Post like the rest of the country thought Ford was dead months (if not years) ago.
FE, can you put that in a proper blog post so I can steal it, please? It'll go so well with the Guardian article about the Santa dying while handing out presents at a kid's party.
Ah, the spirits of the season!
Rain,
Let it never be said that I don't have a sense of irony . . . check my blog today.
(http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/12/27/AR2006122700528_pf.html)
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