By Ann Clarke
I absolutely did NOT want to have to write another article involving the passing of anyone, but unfortunately . . . I am finding myself doing this once again.
Mike DeStefano, a truly gifted comic, has died. He passed away on March 6, 2011 from an apparent heart attack. He was only 44 years old.
This sucks.
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By Less Lee Moore
It’s been such a big part of my life for so long that often I am numbed to the sadness of it. But reading this article, including a timeline of John Lennon’s last day, makes me cry all over again. We’re so blessed to have had him as part of our lives, even for such a short time.
In some ways I hesitate to even mention the creepy photo in this article or the paraphrased conversations with Mark David Chapman because he deserves no glory for his actions. But I think it’s important to realize the details of what happened since so many current Beatles and Lennon fans were born after Lennon died. It makes the events of back then more than just common knowledge; it makes them personal and real.
As a kid I knew he was important and special because my parents thought so. Later, I realized what he meant to me personally. Even now, his significance and brilliance is revealed to me in more profound ways.
No, he was not a saint. But he was one of a kind and we’ll never see someone like him again.
By Matt Keeley
Man, the Grim Reaper sucks. I know, I know, he provides a valuable service and when he gets stuck up a tree, all sorts of bad stuff happens, but sometimes his aim sucks. Like seriously, Mister Rogers? Talk about all-time candidates for immortality. Anyway, here’s a list of the Ten Least-worthy Folks to have kicked the bucket this year.
Leslie Nielsen was awesome. Sure, he made a lot of crappy movies, but he also made ones so awesome that no one minded! Yeah, Mr. Magoo exists, but so does The Naked Gun. And, really, Spy Hard wasn’t that bad. But the cool thing is that Nielsen was also a renowned dramatic actor and even—in his youth—a heartthrob, which kinda messes with folks of the younger generation, just because we think of Lt. Frank Drebin. But, honestly, Frank Drebin was pretty hot.
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By Julie Finley
At the end of 2009, I stumbled upon an Australian band known as HTRK (pronounced “Hate Rock”). Their name was linked to the late great Rowland S. Howard, and I had to figure out what the connection was (this was before Rowland had passed. . . R.I.P. RSH!)
HTRK were linked to a few musical icons other than Rowland, all part of a corps of musicians hailing from Melbourne, Australia. The most direct link is to The Devastations. HTRK Singer Jonnine Standish is married to The Devastations’ Conrad Standish, and the matrimony doesn’t end there; the other members of HTRK (Nigel Yang and Sean Stewart) were involved with the Devastations musically as well.
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By Julie Finley
I had recently paid my respects towards Rowland S. Howard’s latest album, Pop Crimes. . . as it was my favorite record of 2009 (and probably one of my favorite albums of the entire decade!) With reluctance I need to pay my respects in the way I wish I never had to, but. . . Rowland has unfortunately passed away.
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The reaction to Michael Jackson’s death surprised me. I can’t pretend to be like the true hardcore Michael fans; I have always hovered on the edges of the fandom and kept it to myself, too much perhaps. For years I have kept quiet about loving him, even as part of a music fandom where coolness doesn’t really matter. There has just been so much wrong with loving him—truly and wholly—in the eyes of the world for so long.
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It would be absurd to have a magazine devoted to pop culture and fandom and not have something to say about Michael Jackson. The man contributed so much to our culture that we were often unaware of references to him. Upon his death, these references we had seen before somehow became more poignant: a zombie character in a video game wearing a red jacket and walking backwards used to be a funny homage, worthy of a chuckle. Today that same image evokes emotions on top of that, as we realize it as a caricature of a man we never fully understood, even if we did love his work.
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MTV blew my mind in 1981. I would spend hours Velcro’d to the screen of my grandma’s wooden console TV waiting for my favorite videos to come on. Even then, my mom was uneasy about the sort of “messages” I was getting from this weird new music.
Adam Ant’s allusions to S&M were the naughtiest of the lot, but nothing compared to The Cramps. I actually heard them before I saw them. By 1985, I was fully ensnared by WTUL New Orleans, the student-run college radio station of Tulane University. It was there that “New Kind Of Kick” wormed its way into my eardrums.
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