Not sure if you heard, but Farrah Fawcett died a few days ago. I was mildly sad about this. When I say mildly, I mean no disrespect. Of course it’s sad, because she was a human and now she no longer exists. That’s no good. But outside of a few
As has been made clear many times, both here and at sportsjournalists.com, I have thin skin. I hate being slammed, ripped, mocked, etc. That love, I love movie reviews that annihilate. Here, courtesy of Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times, is one of the best ledes, ever … • “Transformers:
Well, as predicted, my second book contest (the one where people couldn’t see the names) was significantly harder than the first. In fact, nobody got every night right. I went with two winners—Robert Eden of McKinney, Texas and Mark Clothier of Douglasville, Georgia. Mazel Tov, fellas—books en route. And here
I’m obviously a little late to the table with this, but wanted to share my quick thoughts on the NBA Draft … • Is there no sense of history? Can’t fault the Clips for taking Blake Griffin, but what in the world are the Grizzlies doing? I know … I
Was at Rich and Leigh Becker’s house the other night, cooking out in the backyard, when the conversation turned to icons. Who’s an icon? Who’s not an icon? It all stemmed from Michael Jackson—odd, yes, but an undeniable all-time icon. To be, an icon is someone who transcends; who moves
Because I am an idiot (and a Mac user), my NAME THE DECEASED CELEBRITIES contest was woefully flawed (I should have realized this when seemingly everyone knew who Jon-Erik Hexum was. Hell, the only reason I knew is because, as a kid, I was a Voyagers fanatic). Anyhow, I’m adding
By the way, the person who can identify the highest number of the 20 celebrities pictured in my previous post wins signed copies of my Clemens and Bonds books. E-mail answers to anngold22@gmail.com …
“Those who belittle anybody’s death with jokes, or describing what was wrong with that person in life, are all the evidence he needs to know how far society has irrevocably fallen. Quite a shame, how far we’ve dipped as a people.” — Brian Hickey • When celebrities die, people seem
Tonight at dinner I was trying to explain to my 20-year-old sister-in-law why Michael Jackson was, once upon a time, the coolest man on the planet. Having grown up with freaky Jacko—the Pez-dispenser nosed white man with a pet monkey and a dangling baby—it was sorta impossible for her to