No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018
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Author:  C_S [ Wed Mar 14, 2018 3:47 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018


Author:  abradley [ Fri Mar 23, 2018 5:17 am ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

Author:  chijohnaok [ Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:17 am ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

Hill Street Creator Dies


April 2, 2018, 6:04 pm

RIP Steven Bochco
Steven Bochco, creator of Hill Street Blues, NYPD Blue, L.A. Law, and Doogie Howser, MD, died Sunday from leukemia at his home in Los Angeles. He was 74.

Bochco won a slew of well-deserved Emmys for his ground-breaking shows, my favorite of which is Hills Street Blues. The series ran for 147 episodes between 1981 and 1987. It mixed gritty police drama and comedy in a continuing soap opera based around a large recurring cast of engaging characters.

My favorite from this mixed but delightful bag was Detective Mick Belker, played pitch perfectly by Bruce Weitz. Belker was the grizzled one, usually wearing fingerless gloves. A favorite and repeated riff was when he would be booking in some freshly arrested dirt-bag, hunting and pecking out the required forms on an old typewriter, and his mother would call. “Hi Ma, yes I’m fine, but I’m kind of busy now…” He was also a master of disguises for undercover work, most of them ridiculous, like the full-body, bright yellow chicken suit that he chased a bad guy down a city street in during one episode.

I was working for a Florida Congressman in his Capitol Hill office when the show first aired. Can’t remember on which weeknight, but on the morning after, not a lick of work got done in the office until after the previous night’s episode had been given a thorough going over.

There were plenty of other memorable characters in Hill Street, as well in Bochco’s other mega-cop-hit, NYPD Blue. The heart and soul of NYPD was Detective Andy Sipowicz, played with high-octane brashness by Dennis Franz. If the colorful Sipowicz were a real police officer, the ACLU would have to have an entire division devoted just to him. I don’t think there’s an article of the Bill of Rights he didn’t kick the crap out of at one time or other. Distinctly pre-Miranda was our Andy, though not without his straight-ahead, nuance-free charm. And how interesting that perhaps the most famous fictional NYPD detective has a classic Chicago accent (that being where Franz was born and raised).

Not all of Bochco’s series were successful. He missed the strike zone badly in 1983 with Bay City Blues, about a minor league baseball team. This one was canceled after four episodes. In 1996, his Public Morals was given its unconditional release after just one episode. It was described as a vice-squad comedy. Sounds counterintuitive, and it appears that it was. But no more than the very bad idea behind Cop Rock, marketed as a mix between cop drama and Broadway singing and dancing. This one lasted 11 episodes in 1990, and demonstrated once again that really gifted, creative people can come up with really bad ideas.

But we shouldn’t spend much time on Bochco’s failures. His triumphs make us forget them. He was a most entertaining fellow. RIP Steven Bochco.

I loved watching that show when I was a kid---it was (loosely) set in Chicago.

Author:  jack t ripper [ Tue Apr 03, 2018 4:02 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

C_S wrote:

Like Van Morrison said (roughly) "Sometimes I feel like YOU'RE going to Hell" :lol:

Author:  chijohnaok [ Sat Apr 14, 2018 8:19 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018 ... 032a667d68

Art Bell, mysterious narrator of the American nightscape, is dead at 72

By Marc Fisher April 14 at 6:12 PM Email the author
In the small of the night, when the mind is open and the defenses are eased, mysteries blossom and conspiracies run wild. In the darkest of hours, Art Bell was a light left on for the lonely, the insomniacs, the Americans searching for answers in a society they believed was spinning out of control.

For more than two decades, Mr. Bell, who died April 13 at 72, stayed up all night talking to those people on the radio, patiently encouraging them to tell their stories about alien abductions, crop circles, anthrax scares and, as he put it, all things “seen at the edge of vision.” The Nye County, Nev., sheriff’s office said an autopsy will be conducted.

At Mr. Bell’s peak in the 1990s, his show, “Coast to Coast AM,” was on more than 400 radio stations. He took calls all night long, alone in the studio he built on his isolated homestead in Pahrump, in the Nevada desert. He punched up the callers himself, unscreened, keeping one line just for those who wanted to talk about what really happened at Area 51, the U.S. government reserve that for decades has been a locus of UFO sightings and purported encounters with alien beings.

Long before fake news became a political topic, Mr. Bell made a good living encouraging Americans to accept the most fantastic and unlikely tales, to believe that we are not alone, to accept that in a world where the pace of life seemed to quicken with every passing year, there were forces from beyond that were trying to tell us something.

In about 40 cities around the country, and in London and Tokyo, Art Bell Chat Clubs met regularly to hear talks by ufologists and by people who described their near-death and past-life experiences. He also had more prominent guests on the show — singers, comics, actors, scientists.

Mr. Bell started his show in 1984 doing a standard-issue political talk program, but he quickly tired of the predictable, emotionally distanced debates over the issues of the day. For Mr. Bell, the questions of the night were infinitely more powerful.

In 1996, Mr. Bell suggested that the Hale-Bopp comet, then the subject of great popular fascination, was being trailed by a UFO — a theory cited as a possible reason that members of the Heaven’s Gate cult committed mass suicide the next year.

“There is a difference in what people are willing to consider, daytime versus nighttime,” Mr. Bell told The Washington Post in 1998. “It’s dark and you don’t know what’s out there. And the way things are now, there may be something.”

Mr. Bell’s voice was unusually formal, with a classic announcer’s cadence, patient and crystalline, by no means a sleepy sound. What he offered listeners was companionship and a therapeutic acceptance.

The novelist Don DeLillo once wrote that “If you maintain a force in the world that comes into people’s sleep, you are exercising a meaningful power.”

Mr. Bell, who drew an audience of about 10 million listeners a week, saw himself not as an authority, but as a fellow explorer. He wore his gullibility proudly. He believed in possibilities, and he loved the idea that his openness to paranormal events had helped build the nation’s appetite for “Twin Peaks,” “The X-Files” and other expressions of the edges of reality.

e wrote a book, “The Quickening,” spelling out his theory that every aspect of life was “accelerating and changing” so dramatically that the world was hurtling toward doom.

Of course, Mr. Bell had his own experiences that matched those of his callers. On the way home to Pahrump from Las Vegas one summer night, he and his wife, Ramona, were about a mile from home when she blurted, “What the hell is that?”

The couple gazed up. Hovering over the road, they saw an enormous triangular craft, each side about 150 feet long, with two bright lights at each point of the triangle. After a while, the craft floated directly over the Bells. “It was silent,” Mr. Bell recounted. “Dead silent. It did not appear to have an engine.” After a few moments, the craft floated across the valley and out of sight.

On the radio, when he told such stories, he would ask listeners to “try to send mental connective thoughts to ask these beings to show themselves.”

“It really doesn’t matter that much to me if anyone believes me,” Mr. Bell said years later. “Thousands of people seeing the same thing cannot all be wrong.”

And if they were wrong, at least they were wrong together, he said. Whether his show was taken as entertainment or revelation, he believed it was healthier than the other blather on the radio: “Morning shows that compete to find the worst language you can manage to get on the air, the most controversial topics,” he said, dismissively. “Guns! Abortion! I talk about weird stuff. What I do only works at night, only on the radio.”

His politics were all over the map — a self-described libertarian, he opposed abortion, supported same-sex marriage and was skeptical of the science behind global warming. He blamed Richard Nixon for spawning a nation of cynics, supported Barry Goldwater in 1964 and Ross Perot in 1992, came to consider Bill Clinton a great president and said he voted for Barack Obama in 2008.

Mr. Bell had no stomach for haters. He had a white supremacist on as a guest, made him comfortable enough for him to spout racist views, and then Mr. Bell informed the guest that “I am married to a brown-skinned Asian woman.”

Born June 17, 1945, in Jacksonville, N.C., Arthur Bell III grew up with a seven-transistor AM radio tucked under his pillow at night, and when he was supposed to be sleeping, he listened instead to the pioneers of talk radio as they batted around alternative ideas about who really killed John F. Kennedy or how the CIA controlled people’s minds.

Mr. Bell, a Marine brat who said he attended more than 30 high schools as his family moved around, served as a medic for the Air Force in Vietnam, and began his broadcasting work on the military’s station in Okinawa, Japan, where he once stayed on the air as a DJ for 116 hours nonstop, earning an entry in Guinness World Records. (He also held the record for seesawing while broadcasting — 57 hours. Top 40 AM radio DJs did that sort of thing in the 1970s.)

After studying engineering at the University of Maryland, Mr. Bell returned to radio, playing the hits on small stations in New England and California. The work left him feeling empty, and he moved to Las Vegas, where he was working as a cable guy when a radio station asked him to take on a part-time, overnight slot as a talk-show host.

His nightly “Coast to Coast” show ran from 1989 to 2003, and he continued broadcasting on weekends until 2007. He briefly returned with a satellite radio show in 2013 and an online program, “Midnight in the Desert,” in 2015. That show ended after a few months, because, Mr. Bell said, someone had taken to firing a weapon at his Nevada property.

Mr. Bell was married four times; to Sachiko Pontius and Vickie Baker, from whom he was divorced; to Ramona Hayes, who died in 2006; and to Airyn Ruiz, whom he met when she befriended him online after the death of his previous wife. Ruiz was then 22 and living in the Philippines. He is survived by Ruiz and his five children, Vincent Pontius, Lisa Pontius Minei, Arthur Bell IV, Asia Bell and Alexander Bell.

Naturally, Mr. Bell died on Friday the 13th.

I would occasionally make long drives at might and often times Art Bell & Coast to Coast was the only program that would consistently come over the radio.

It made for bizarre listening but the topics and calls were usually something that was guaranteed to keep you awake and alert at the wheel.

RIP Art Bell

Author:  C_S [ Sat Apr 14, 2018 10:32 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

I listened to Art quite a lot going to sleep before I got a smartphone, now I stream whatever I'm in the mood for. Mostly audiobooks or hate radio that I missed during the day.

Bell was replaced by George Noory a long time ago, who imo, was better than Art. Art would call in sometimes and guest host, he didn't completely retire. Mostly I listened to these guys b/c there was nothing better to listen to at the time.

RIP, Art. shrug.

Author:  Mac [ Mon Apr 16, 2018 8:58 am ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

Full Metal Jacket actor R Lee Ermey dies aged 74...

Actor R Lee Ermey, known for his role as foul-mouthed Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in Vietnam War film Full Metal Jacket, has died aged 74.

The former US Marine turned award-winning actor played a host of military men during his career.

Ermey's manager, posting to the actor's Twitter account, said he died from "complications of pneumonia".

"He will be greatly missed by all of us," the message read. "Semper Fi, Gunny. Godspeed."

Born in 1944 in Kansas, Ermey was a staff sergeant in the marine corps in the 1960s and early 1970s, serving tours in Japan and Vietnam. He also served as a real-life drill instructor.

Ermey later drew on his military experience for his breakout role in Stanley Kubrick's 1987 film Full Metal Jacket, winning a Golden Globe nomination for his portrayal of a hardened drill instructor putting young marine corps recruits through basic training.

One popular story about Ermey is that he was initially hired as a technical advisor, but Kubrick was so impressed with his demonstration of a drill instructor's role that he was offered the part.

Ermey's Full Metal Jacket co-stars Matthew Modine and Vincent D'Onofrio were among those to pay tribute to the actor.

Modine used the motto of the US Marine Corps 'Semper Fidelis' - meaning always faithful or always loyal - in his Twitter tribute.

He also quoted lines from Dylan Thomas' poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.

In a second tweet, he thanked the marines for helping the actor become "the outstanding person he was. Hard working. Disciplined. Focused. Never complaining."

"There's no doubt his Marine Corp training benefited him with his second career as an actor," wrote Modine, who played Private James T. 'Joker' Davis in the film.

D'Onofrio, who played Private Pyle, called Ermey "the real deal".

Donald Trump Jr posted a long tribute to the actor, saying he was "proud to have had R Lee Ermey as a friend", calling him "a legend and a great American".

In a 2010 interview with the Civilian Marksmanship Programme magazine, Ermey recalled being a "troublemaker and a bit of a hell-raiser" in his youth - eventually ending up in court.

"Basically a silver-haired judge... gave me a choice. He said I could either go into the military - any branch I wanted to go to - or he was going to send me where the sun never shines," he told the magazine.

"And I love sunshine, I don't know about you."

Ermey played many military and police roles on film and television. He featured in Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now and lent his distinctive voice to animated characters, such as the plastic toy soldier in Pixar's Toy Story films.

He was a board member of powerful US gun lobby group the National Rifle Association (NRA).

In a post on Facebook - since made inaccessible - his manager Bill Rogin said: "It is extremely difficult to truly quantify all of the great things this man has selflessly done for, and on behalf of, our many men and women in uniform.

"Gunnery Sergeant Hartman of Full Metal Jacket fame was a hard and principled man," he wrote. "The real R Lee Ermey was a family man, and a kind and gentle soul."


Author:  jack t ripper [ Mon Apr 16, 2018 6:57 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

The guy was a complete natural for that role in Full Metal Jacket.

Allegedly he stepped in to criticize the other actor hired to do the big barrack scene where he berates the recruits and Kubrick said.."well, how would the Marines do it"...and then he did off script and nailed it.

That is an amazing scene. hard to know if the other actors were acting or truly terrified.

Author:  jack t ripper [ Mon Apr 16, 2018 7:00 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018


Author:  chijohnaok [ Mon Apr 16, 2018 7:55 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: No One Here Gets Out Alive - 2018

jack t ripper wrote:

Fixed that

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