Fellow Lugubrious One... Times Two Or Three (?)

Looking for more details of the untimely passing of noted thespian Denise Morelle, I stumbled across Nécropole 1 - a site that truly has much in common with this very blogspot site right here...

I figured that I should make mention of it here as well, rather than on that "stumbleupon" site thing... Or "digg it"... Or anything of the sort, really!

Nécropole 1 makes me think, in a strange mixture of nostalgic and morbidity, of Télé-Métropole, le Canal 10 of old where I was brought up...
All its stalwarts and familiar faces - now all gone, either into retirement or, of course, the Great Beyond...
Denise Morelle was not a part of that though; she was mostly seen in theater and in the rival network, the SRC...

I did not find much on Mrs. Morelle in that"Nécropole 1" alas, but one is forced to admit that the plethora of famous and not-so-famous luminaries who have met their demise duly listed there is quite remarkable indeed.

It just reminds us all, at a quick glance, how many great ones are no longer with us...
How much more numerous the dead are than the living, also... (I hope we all knew so much already - hmm?)
And how short lifespans can be too...

All that Nécropole 1 is missing, really, is the insightful text (oftentimes sarcastic, morbid and very much so reflective on a personal level) that I like to insert here, to accompany the pictures and give them all their lugubrious meaning really...

For, what better moment to reflect on things, put them in perspective and verse both nostalgic as also philosophical, than when a death occurs?


et en v'là un autre que j'affublerais du titre également(LUC, below)... et un autre (LUCIEN...)

R.I.P.

Since he had very similar tastes when it pertained to films -similar to my own- and very similar opinions about things in general also, as well as a near-identical demeanor and candor-in-writ as in life, fellow LP Luc Perreault, a journalist and a decent honest one - something that is getting harder to find these days...

For all these reasons, he is surely a "fellow lugubrious one" - indeed!

He passed away in August too; I simply omitted to post his picture in the month's "death toll" post - so here it is now.
Likewise for another Luc/Lucien near-namesake of mine - Lucien "Frenchie" Jarraud, a stalwart of French-Canadian radio who passed away on August 18th, in Paris...
My voice is flattered when it is compared to his.
(When I do indulge in classic flawless International French, I get more comparisons with another stalwart though -Jacques Languirand- who is alive and well, for his part... But that is another story as the saying goes...)

R.I.P.

I am sure 'Nécropole 1' posted both their pictures - although I didn't check.
They most probably did.


Aye, rest in peace now - both of you, namesakes of mine...

+++

August Death Toll

"The French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, 
interrupted his summer holiday 
in the United States 
to attend the funeral."
That was the most important thing to say about this event for many news media - be them electronic or more traditional - that Sarkozy interrupted his precious vacation...
Never mind the fact that the guy inside the coffin was 
"the former Archbishop of Paris, who died on Sunday, aged 80."
And a greater man -let alone Frenchman- than Nic Sarko will ever be.
Let's remember who he was, here, shall we?
"He was born Aaron Lustiger
to Polish Jews who had settled in France before World War I
and he had the particularity
of having become a Catholic only at the start of World War II -
and being a Cardinal in 1983,
after stepping down as archbishop of Paris following
a 24 year-long tenure."
Never mind who's getting buried - let's focus on who attends the funeral first and foremost;
that seems to be the editor-in-chiefs' orders these days... 
But not here - not on the lugubrious blog!

Martha is doing it for Milena...

"Massachusetts Attorney General Martha Coakley (above) talks about pictures of the 2006 Big Dig tunnel collapse during a news conference in Boston Wednesday, Aug. 8, 2007. Coakley announced that Powers Fasteners Inc., of N.Y., who provided the epoxy blamed in the fatal Big Dig tunnel collapse, was charged with one count of involuntary manslaughter. Milena Del Valle, 39, was killed when 26 tons of concrete panels and hardware crashed from a tunnel ceiling onto her car as she and her husband drove through the westbound Interstate 90 tunnel. Her husband crawled out of the rubble with minor injuries." Her untimely demise wil never be forgotten. R.I.P. Milena G.T.S.

(AP Photo/Kevin Martin)

Nota Bene: granted, the elegant Massachusetts Attorney General's picture may not have its place here. It is no death wishing nor any kind of ill-wishing on my part, I assure you all - and Martha herself! I just thought that she is more photogenic than, say, the late Leona Helmsley, aka The Queen of Mean, that's all...! And, besides, Martha is pointing at pictures delineating the very spot where Milena Del Valle's life was so abruptly and senselessly ended...
Even Lady Di's death in a tunnel made more sense, when you stop and really think about it... 
But that is another story... G.T.S. stands for "Gone Too Soon" - of course.


In this month's other early departures - or early arrivals to their final destination: Heaven or...
Actually, there is no hell - yet. The hot place is still under construction - didn't you now that?





And the games go on... 
Master gamester is gaming no more. 
R.I.P. 

Merv Griffin 

And another one proves to us all once again that
millions upon millions of dollars
will never keep neither the doctor
nor the grim reaper away...

A fourth demise is needed, as always - it is a minimum here, at the lugubrious blog, a quota to meet for the number 4 is, after all, death's number...  And so , as our fourth mention of honor, we shall go with one who crossed 4th base (aka Home Base we might say; however, in this case, he has truly come HOME now...) an impressive 877 times throughout his baseball career; Phil Rizzuto has now officially joined the "Field of Dreams" league, up there in the Sky... (Surely he's not playing for the OTHER TEAM now - he was a Yankee, not a "Damn Yankee," I think - Ted Williams liking him as he did proves it to me...)

Carry on in the Field of Dreams, Phil - Ted was expecting you there...

For yet more on the above-mentioned demises as well as all the others of these past few days... weeks... months... Heck, for the Notable Deaths of 2007 OVER ALL... (or rather SO FAR - at blogging time!) CLICK HERE.

And check out the lugubrious comments section that follows, as always, for more details as well...
Including source material and more commentary o'mine - of course.

In closing, a parting suggestion for all of you lugubrious heads out there...

Death can be foretold, forewarned... 

Never forget to listen to your intuition. 

*One Step Beyond* 

is based upon real-life stories: 

it is factual, unlike fare such as 

"Final Destination"
- or the Twilight Zone. 

I highly recommend it.

+++ 

37 Years Ago...

Soledad Miranda is a pariah in death as she was in life - for she has no place to call her own.
Born Portuguese but on Spanish soil, she was never taken in by the Spaniards and never put on a pedestal like Penelope Cruz was...
Yet, Soledad was twice the actress Penelope can ever hope to be.


The irony that I find out about her death in Lisboa mere days before the anniversary...
Coupled with the number 37 - as, later on this year, another 37th anniversary will be observed in mournful silence, and it involves the collapse of a massive structure just like the one we've witnessed recently in Minneapolis...
And lest you eagle-eyed friendly readers forget; I was 37 last year; the year when my dearest relative passed away so unexpectedly.

What's in a number, you may say...
Numbers RULE the universe and regulate it.
Everybody knows that.
Even an anti-egghead intuitive linguist like me!
Up to a point, our view of the universe works
and we can effectively "explain" the universe
with numbers - as Stephen Hawking stated, though,
it works only up to a point...
Once numbers cease to "work" for us,
one has to turn towards something else...
Just to understand...

And with the triple occurrence of the number '37' here
I am left to ponder the possibility that
some sort of message from beyond is there -
a message for me (for I am the one who has the third
occurrence of '37' - which hits fully home)
for some unfathomable purpose...?

More things to ponder upon -
as many ponder what could have been too,
had Soledad known felicidade and lived on...
There is simply no telling the magnitude
that her stardom could have attaigned...
Instead of countless days in the sun as a genuine
Hollywood "star", Soledad is amongst the stars now
(since 1970) in the heavens above...



At least up there, she's with the REAL JESUS...
Not at the mercy of Jess Franco anymore!

Sébastien Lacasse - 2 years ago today... Marilyn Monroe - 45 years ago today...

It was very late in the night, on this date, when it all took place.
Or rather very early in the morning today - around two in the morning to be exact. He was headed home, on his bike, after a tumultuous evening at a party he should have never attended... He had had two altercations with two different gangs on that night - and it all been triggered by a little hoe, Sébastien's former girlfriend, who was now seeing a black boy... Mind you, there was no racism involved here - all the protagonists involved are really, tis sad to say, pathetic Laval-Quebec-Canada teens who flatter themselves too much into thinking that they could be the next Eminem or Dr. Dre... White boys and Black boys alike - I see nothing but a confused and inane lot among this Generation Y or Z... I'd call them "Generation P - for Pathetic" but I am quite fond of the idea that they are indeed "Generation Z" - i.e. the last one, so... But I digress...

So then, two years ago, first around 10pm -maybe- Sébastien Lacasse, a curly-haired blond boy who, perhaps, talked the talk one too many times, was roughed up over a silly tramp that used to be his girlfriend... Then, he was careless enough to get into a second argument on the very same night - with another gang of young punks (who he may have mistaken for the first bunch - however, wasn't the hoe's absence a vital clue that these were clearly not the same losers?)
This second gang wanted "respect" - not in the true meaning of the word though (these silly geese have no idea what true meanings, true definitions, syntax, punctuation and proper spelling are all about...! These are "streetsmart" hoodlums - with little or no education and real smarts to speak of...
(And I heard some moron who was reporting on this tragedy say that "these were kids (...) with a future" - HA! Depends on your definition, once more, of that as well... But I digress once more...)
Hence, the respect sought here was to be FEARED - since Sébastien Lacasse was carefree enough to show that he thought them to be ridiculous rather than fearful, without any back-up (how could that be though - since 1000 people showed up at his funeral? Where were all these so-called "friends" when he needed the back-up?!? Digressing again - and giving away the sad ending here... Mea culpa.) the gang of 13 soon decided to "make an example" out of Sébastien...
As if 13 morons can teach anybody anything at all...
The only 13 that showed the WORLD all there was to know were the twelve apostles - and CHRIST! And they were not dumb brats like these 13 from Laval - who fancy themselves as something that they CAN NEVER HOPE TO BE and exercise violence as means to compensate...
And so, they got to corner Sébastien on la Rue Des Patriotes and one of the cowards stabbed him in the back 7 times. The others sprayed pepper spray over Sébastien's eyes, so that he wouldn't get away... When he tried to get up, they tripped him and he fell... They kicked him repeatedly, stomped his ribs and face (cause he was cuter than any single one of them) and then they left him to bleed to death.
They only stopped the savage assault because FINALLY a neighbour came out and yelled something... That "bon voisin" and proverbial good samaritan stood by Sébastien until the medics and cops arrived, as the 13 cowards fled the scene right away, the moment that someone "saw"... What were these 13 morons thinking? That they could keep at it all night, without being "disturbed" at all? Most astounding of all, once in their getaway cars, they were all shocked to find their clothes blood-splattered and their hands bloodied with their victims's hemoglobin... HOW MORONIC ARE THESE CRAPPY WASTES OF FLESH?!? Again - WHY WERE THESE BOZOS EVER BORN AT ALL?
But I digress, one final time.

Sébastien Lacasse was dying when they took him to a familiar place - l'Hôpital du Sacré-Coeur. His parents, Luc & Line, were called, finally... They had no clue what was up with their son at two in the morning... Unlike me, Sébastien's parents have nothing to blame the hospital about. They can blame themselves and their son's brash attitude though. One shouldn't start a fight one cannot hope to be able to finish - unless one has a death wish, that is.

Sébastien died soon thereafter - he was only 19 years old.
His mother says, on a teledocumentary made about the tragic event, that when she received the worst possible news of all, she curled up in a foetus position and cried for a long time.
Her son was placed in the same cold room where my father was placed in, almost two years later...
Who knows - maybe it was the same "cubicle" too...



45 YEARS AGO, an outstanding eulogy was read for a very familiar and, now, intemporal face: Marilyn Monroe's wake came to a closure with the following eulogy read by Lee Strasberg.

"Marilyn Monroe was a legend.

In her own lifetime she created a myth of what a poor girl from a deprived background could attain. For the entire world she became a symbol of the eternal feminine.
But I have no words to describe the myth and the legend, nor would she want us to do so. I did not know this Marilyn Monroe. Nor did she.
We gathered here today, knew only Marilyn - a warm human being, impulsive and shy, and lonely, sensitive and in fear of rejection, yet ever avid for life and reaching out for fulfillment. I will not insult the privacy of your memory of her - a privacy she sought and treasured - by trying to describe her whom you know to you who knew her. In our memories of her she remains alive, not only a shadow on the screen or a glamorous personality.

For us Marilyn was a devoted and loyal friend, a colleague constantly reaching for perfection. We shared her pain and difficulties and some of her joys. She was a member of our family. It is difficult to accept the fact that her zest for life has been ended by this dreadful accident.
Despite the heights and brillance she had attained on the screen, she was planning for the future; she was looking forward to participating in the many exciting things which she planned. In her eyes and in mine her career was just beginning. The dream of her talent, which she had nurtured as a child, was not a mirage. When she first came to me I was amazed at the startling sensitivity which she possessed and which had remained fresh and undimmed, struggling to express itself despite the life to which she had been subjected. Others were as physically beautiful as she was, but there was obviously something more in her, something that people saw and recognized in her performances and with which they identified. She had a luminous quality - a combination of wistfulness, radiance, yearning - to set her apart and yet make everyone wish to be a part of it, to share in the childish naivete which was so shy and yet so vibrant.
This quality was even more evident when she was in the stage. I am truly sorry that the public who loved her did not have the opportunity to see her as we did, in many of the roles that foreshadowed what she would have become. Without a doubt, she would have been one of the really great actresses of the stage.

Now it is all at an end. I hope her death will stir sympathy and understanding for a sensitive artist and a woman who brought joy and pleasure to the world.

I cannot say goodbye. Marilyn never liked goodbyes, but in the peculiar way she had of turning things around so that they faced reality - I will say au revoir. For the country to which she has gone, we must all someday visit."
August 8 1962

+++

China city traffic cops (are) given 43 years to live

so reads the headline
and so is made clear, to me,
as also to every thinking man
and thinking woman out there,
that work sure is NOT everything
and it sure as hell is NEVER
worth dying for!

DYING... TO DIRECT TRAFFIC?!?
SHORTENING ONE'S LIFESPAN
JUST SO THERE ARE LESS TRAFFIC JAMS?!?

Of course, Hong Kong has debilitating demographic concerns
And the shortened life expectancy of some of its denizens
might help in that, in the long run...
43, single, no children - keels over dead.
That sure as hell won't cause the population to increase;
now will it?!?

But from my standpoint -
my luminous/lugubrious standpoint -
I loathe polluters... car drivers... traffic...
urban oxygen...
Let them all get stuck in monster jams
and die of exasperation (as well as of breathing in
too much of their own pollution...!)

I see it as near ABOMINATION
to sacrifice anyone else's life
shorten it, knowingly and willfully,
just so that the petty car owners
can have a better experience driving around
polluting beyond repair their environment
KILLING OTHERS - AND THEMSELVES TOO...

Gee - some of these commuters
("escommungados commuters" as I call them!)
some of these gloating, self-absorbed JERKS
should simply give US ALL a break
and, if they are in such a hurry then,
they can take the shortcut to hell
since they're headed there anyways...
That's right, polluters and other pukesters -
lock yourselves up in your garage
close all the windows, all the way down
connect a tube to your tuyau d'échappement
échappez à votre existence
échappe et ment - allez donc...
and take several deep breaths of THAT...




Nota Bene: no - I REPEAT - I do not condone self-destruction
But if you're evil - go for it.