Richard Lewis
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Rest Easy, Sweet Prince Of Pain

I first saw Richard Lewis perform in 1975 on the historic stage at the old Improvisation in the decidedly ungentrified Manhattan neighborhood known as Hell’s Kitchen. It was a Thanksgiving trip with my college buddies and my sister Marjorie, then a struggling teen comic in New York, got us a table. All these years later the memories of the music and sports events of that weekend have faded but not that night, a cultural experience equivalent to accidentally stumbling in the Cavern Club in 1962 and happening upon John, Paul and George.
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In Memoriam 2023

I inherited one significant relationship from my late sister and that was the twenty year or so run I had with Arleen after Marjorie’s passing. I had met her, or received the blessings of her incredible generosity, when she engineered a staff writing job for me on America’s Funniest People over thirty years ago. She was the co-host of the America’s Funniest Videos spinoff with Dave Coulier and Marjorie called her and said her brother had eaten the requisite amount of shit in LA and could she throw him a bone as a favor.
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Social media screens
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Dead Sea Doom Scrolls

I have gotten into the nasty, addictive habit of going down the TikTok rabbit hole into the conspiracy theory underworld, an exercise that has been defined as “doom scrolling”. Studies are showing that doing this, even recreationally, can lead to a decline in physical and mental health. That too could be a conspiracy theory put forth to keep us away from the awful truths of the current state of the planet. Then again, fear and loathing is the default mindset these days.
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He Who Doesn’t Laugh Laughs Least

I might have mentioned a couple of times that I spent most of my twenties as a full time rock critic/photographer for a daily paper in Toronto, a youth that would have been better invested in a good law school rather than wasted on such a frivolous pursuit. But I was having too much fun until I wasn’t and, with some encouragement from my editors, I pulled the plug when I was twenty nine based on my own personal belief that thirty is the cut off age for the three chord lifestyle which requires one to truly live it short of an intravenous dependency..
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Tragic Kingdom

Bruce Johnston wrote that song for The Beach Boys’ 1971 album Surf’s Up. The actual song title includes the year 1957 to make sure we knew this was a nostalgic look back complete with reference to ‘Ricky and David’ (as with most of my references, if you don’t get this please stop reading) which just about corresponds to when Disneyland was really catching on with the kids. I was fortunate enough to be taken there by my parents in December of 1966 as perhaps a gift for my coming Bar Mitzvah. I was very fortunate to fly cross country when most of my friends were years away from a trip to the airport.
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