Third Time's The Charm

All right, you can reset The Celebrity Death Meter back to zero. In my flogging last week, Betty Hutton Makes Her Heave, I mentioned two celebrity deaths, Betty and the English comic pouf John Inman, who often was, and then discussed how they say celebrity deaths always come in threes. Well, the prophesied third celebrity death has occurred, and to the relief of my thousands of surviving fans - you who go to bed each night praying, "Oh Lord, please take me before Tallulah Morehead, as I don't want to live in a world without Tallulah." - it wasn't me. Ennio Morrocone breathed a sigh of relief also.

This time it was Calvert "Larry 'Bud' Melman" DeForest, the only man to have a Quotes Nickname within a Quotes Nickname. The late Bob "Big Republican Tool" Hope must be seething with envy in Hell, while he simmers in a lake of fire.

Calvert, like the late Vicki Lynn Hogan, aka Anna Nicole Smith Marshall Stern Birkhead Denk Hatten Morehead von Anhalt Gabor, was a celebrity devoid of any trace of talent or acting ability. Apparently, the less talent a celebrity has, the more names they require, not that I, Countess Tallulah Clytemnestra Morehead Knight Thalberg Tepes Karloff (Pratt) Towers (Suderstrombork) Herkert Borgnine Bronze Berman, have any experience being talentless. Calvert DeForest had the extra added advantage of a weird name. Who ever heard of anyone else named "Calvert"? Was he named for a sewer? How romantic.

However, unlike Miss Smith, Calvert was post-modernly, ironically-knowing about his lack of any perceptible talent. That was the whole point of him, rather like Ruby Keeler. He was an inspiration to the pointless. If he could become famous and successful, who couldn't? Next time a homeless person asks you for money or a cocktail, tell them, "Hey, if Calvert DeForest could be a TV Star, and George W. Bush could pose as a 'President of the United States', why the hell aren't you a Queen of England?" They'll stop listening to you after "If" of course, unless they are a Queen of England, but you'll just feel better getting it off your chest. I know I always feel better when someone gets off on my chest.

I met Mr. Melman-DeForest a bit over 20 years ago. He was very sweet, unassuming, friendly, approachable, and accommodating. In person, he was even less appetizing than on TV. He had soft doughy, spongy skin the color of old snow, that hung like my breasts, in loose, shimmying pouches. He looked like the Pillsbury Dough Grandfather. He was so physically unappealing that I almost didn't offer to have sex with him.

And then, on top of all that, he turned me down! Okay, I'm a quarter of a century older than he, and he was 65 then, but really! It's not like women were lining up for him. Joan Crawford was dead. I'll have you know, my marriage to Trevor Berman still lay in the future at that time. Trevor wasn't too proud to schtup me, and he was over 70 years younger than me, and gay, yet he still managed to hold his breath and dive in, once I told him where it went. Hell, if I was good enough for Quasimodo, I should have been good enough for Larry "Bud" Melman.

So let his Hideous Fate - dying peacefully at age 85, beloved by many for doing quite little - be a lesson to all of you out there; NEVER turn down sex with Miss Tallulah Morehead! In fact, I suggest you all hop in your cars, drive out to Morehead Heights, and shag the bloody hell out of me right now. Think of it as medicinal sex. I take all major health plans and HMOs For that matter, I've always taken, and often married, all major HOMOs.

Learn from The Tragedy of Calvert DeForest; don't wait until it's Too Late!

Cheers darlings