LET US NOW PRAISE FAMOUS MEN (What’ve you got?)

So seemingly Marlon Brando couldn’t take another July 4 weekend. But his passing was sobering. For me, Brando was the first. Before James Dean and Elvis, before I’d heard of Allen Ginsberg, or Kerouac, Marlon cut the shape. He was, in every sense, the Godfather of 20th century hipster bohemia in the characters of Stanley Kowalski, Terry Moloy, Johnny the Wild One, and later Vito Corleone, Jor El, and Kurtz at the Heart of Darkness. All the others have gone before, and now Marlon is dead, it’s starting to feel lonely in the upper age bracket.

The tabloids are already rehashing his mess of a private life while smart-ass broadsheets harp on how, at the end, he became totally bored with the process of acting. My only indirect contact with the man was when we made the TV documentary Black Leather Jacket, and Marlon caused us no trouble whatsoever over the use of the image. That’s my only story.

FOOTNOTE

Maybe Marlon is well out of world where the CIA has banned Furbies – the stuffed toys that can repeat phrases – from the headquarters in Langley. Seemingly they pose too much of a security threat.

CRYPTIQUE – Grapes explode in the microwave.