America's Coldest Teenager

(An epitaphany shared with the guy Phil stole it from)

Or

American LastStand

(Props to Phil)

Or

Last Train for Clarksville

(Kudos to Phil)

Or

The Ball Drops

(Cap tip to Monty)

Or

Deadeye Dick Clark

(Additional accolades for Phil)
Dick Clark, best remembered as executive producer of the most underappreciated action film of the 1980s – Remo Williams, the Adventure Begins – has died at the age of 82. At least his current host body did. With Clark’s death, it is generally believed that the New Year will not come, once again showing the wisdom of our Mayan forebears. A ubiquitous force of unthinking television, Clark’s appeal spanned the generations from showing the inanity of white kids dancing awkwardly through American Bandstand, to giving the middle aged and elderly a connection to people having actual fun on New Year’s Eve, with his annual moron- and confetti-infused specials complete with a dance party pre-recorded in August. A noted philanthropist, Clark was noted for giving B-, C- and D-list celebrities a way-station between appearances on The Love Boat and Fantasy Island as partners on the $10-, $25-, $64- and $100,000 Pyramids. The preternaturally youthful Clark hit the national stage with the initially Philadelphia-based American Bandstand and spent more than 30 years spinning records and sniffing Clearasil while generations of up-and-coming artists lip-synched their recently recorded sanitized rock and/or roll songs. The appearances inevitably gave huge bumps to the records, and the careers - more than two-thirds of the inductees in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame made their television debuts on American Bandstand. Among the other high-minded programming put out under the Clark brand with him listed as executive producer include TV’s Bloopers & Practical Jokes, Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction, Celebrity Boxing 2, Donny & Marie, Meet Hanson, The Making of a Hollywood Madam, and Animals are the Funniest People. 

Stopped Watch

Mike Wallace, who conducted some of the most uncomfortable interviews this side of The Chris Farley Show, has died at the age of 93. For more than 50 years, there were few more chilling phrases in corporate and political offices than “Mike Wallace is here to see you.” With the flair of a showman and the tenacity of a pit bull, Wallace created the public image of what a journalist was and gave 60 Minutes its edge by grilling interviewees, giving them just enough rope to hang themselves before he went in for the kill, or before it became clichéd, setting up ambush scenarios, such as creating a fake clinic for a story on Medicare fraud. But live by the muckrake, die by the muckrake – a 1981 special report on General William Westmoreland charged that he had deliberately misled the country on the strength of the Vietnamese army as part of a great conspiracy. Westmoreland filed a libel suit, and although he CBS was later found to have largely been correct, its methods, including paying for information and interviews, cost it credibility and led it to settle. The incident also contributed to Wallace’s nervous breakdown.

Lights Out

Thomas Kinkade, who was to art what Nicholas Sparks is to literature and what Olive Garden is to fine cuisine, has died at the age of 54 from combining alcohol and Valium, likely used to quiet the guilt of having sold the same shitty painting of a cottage designed to trap wayward children in a Grimm Brothers story with an unearthly glow emitting from within a few million times. He claimed to be America’s most collected living artist (when he was alive), with an estimated 1 in 20 Americans owning one of his paintings, thanks to appearances on QVC, stores in half the malls in America, Hallmark calendars and licensing agreements to put his art on Wal-Mart gift cards and in new housing developments. Claiming to be a devout Christian – going so far as to give 4 of his children the middle name Christian – Kinkade said that he attempted to give his paintings a larger moral dimension, even as he charged exorbitant prices for personally adding a splash of light to the same painting you could buy at the mall. The moral stalwart also once took a leak on a statue of Winnie the Pooh at Disneyland and said, “This one’s for you, Walt.”

Booted

Or

One with the Cosmos

Fans of 1970s soccer were saddened to learn of the heart attack death of Giorgio Chinaglia, the all-time leading scorer in North American Soccer League (NASL) history. After moving to Wales from Italy, he was discovered by the local team, Swansea Town, and first saw action with the club in 1964, where he spent two seasons until his traditional Italian training regimen - booze, women, late nights and an aversion to practice - led Swansea to let him go on a free transfer. He would return to Italy, spending three seasons in Serie C before landing with Lazio, where he scored 98 goals in 209 games and would later be named the greatest player in Lazio history. At the height of his career, he made the move to the NASL and the New York Cosmos, where he would register 242 goals in 254 games and lead the league in scoring four times. He was also able to return to his relaxed training schedule. Once, the Cosmos manager told the team that they couldn’t go out the night before a big game, and that he’d fine anyone who did $1000. Chinaglia asked who among his team planned to go out, saw four raised hands, and immediately paid the manager $5000. He was not quite as good with his money later on, between investing in the clearly failing Cosmos in 1985 and being subjected to two money laundering investigations when trying to buy teams in Italy.