The gossip world is abuzz with the sad news about Natasha Richardson,and that's perfectly understandable. She was half a golden couple (being the lucky lucky wife of the perennial hottie Liam Neeson), heir to Mama Vanessa Redgrave's acting dynasty throne, etc etc. Very sad, of course.
But hers was not the only significant actorly cackoff recently. It must be noted that someone else passed on over the weekend - Ron Silver. When I read that bit of news, at first I had no idea why it should matter to me that people are aware of his death at least as much as they are of Ms. Richardson's. It's not like I've even THOUGHT about Ron Silver in years.
Doing a bit of research into why THIS name should resonate for whatever reason has illustrated to me once again how powerful memories made in childhood can be, because my 'a-ha!' moment came with this little snippet from Wikipedia:
From 1976 to 1978 he played downstairs neighbor Gary Levy in the series Rhoda.
Bingo! Ron Silver was the sexy downstairs guy with eyes that could burn holes through a young teenaged girl's psyche! I had such a crush on him (along with David Groh AND the voice of Lorenzo Music's, it should be added).
Oh sure, he got some Tony Award blah blah blah,and appeared in like a thousand other things (like The West Wing), but damn - the open-neck shirts and chest hair of the '70s MUST be what planted the first memory seed where ol' Ron Silver is concerned.
Two snaps up, 'downstairs neighbor Gary.' Here's hoping eternity is everything you could wish for.
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Have you ever been in a conversation with someone and realized that nearly every single word out of your mouth sounds asinine, and you're powerless to stop it?
I was just talking with the new admin about what she can do to help us out, and I was going on and on about some stupid task, making it sound important and 'value added,' and I HEAD MYSELF TALKING and I sounded so VERY patronizing. In fact, it was so bad that I felt it necesasry to CONTINUE to talk up the chore, building it into some pivotal process necessary for the continued well-being of the company and quite possibly the whole nation, under God, when in truth what it really is is about 20 hours of work per report that I hate doing and want desperately to foist off on someone else so I can return to racking up wins of freecell.
Asshole much?
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M&Ms are, quite possibly, the most evil and delicious candy ever invented. One of them is too little to eat all alone, and a few of them at once taste so good you want more, and pretty soon the whole bag is gone, even when one promises onesself that one is going to only eat a few and save the rest for later. The crunchy candy coating! The velvety chocolate innards! The wholesome and festive array of colors exploding with each mastication into a cataclysm of oral deliciousness! Oh! Yes!
And then, a mere few minutes later, they're done fer and life proceeeds apace, as if such supple joy had never been.
Oh, M&Ms, I will remember, and smile.
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There you have it. Actors, assholes, and candy. Your Thursday topic trifecta.
Y'all have a good day now, y-heah?
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