Everybody, Somebody, Onebody
Everybody has a story.
Nick Juliano, a local resident, passed away recently. He played football for the New York Giants and later worked as a magician with David Copperfield.
Some people have a statue.
A bust of the late playwright Jason Miller was unveiled in Scranton on Monday. His friend, Bill McAndrew placed Jason’s ashes in an urn inside the hollow bronze bust. “Now if people want to stop by and say a prayer to him, or for him, they can,” McAndrew said.
Everybody has an obituary.
Many people have an obituary notice that starts off by telling us the deceased has gone to be with God, Jesus or their beloved spouse who preceded them in death. “Gaza Magyar, of Stratford, the beloved husband of Helen Volarics Magyar, went to be with man's best friend, his dog, ‘Baby.’" I guess God and/or Jesus will just have to wait in line.
Rich people have a private beach.
A bunch of rich newbie beachfront barstards put up “No Trespassing” signs on what they considered *their* private part of the beach. Us locals, when we weren’t trashing the signs, just walked along it as if we were there first – which we were. Well, we had an almighty storm recently and there ain’t no beach, just rocks. Ha Ha.
Nick Juliano, a local resident, passed away recently. He played football for the New York Giants and later worked as a magician with David Copperfield.
Some people have a statue.
A bust of the late playwright Jason Miller was unveiled in Scranton on Monday. His friend, Bill McAndrew placed Jason’s ashes in an urn inside the hollow bronze bust. “Now if people want to stop by and say a prayer to him, or for him, they can,” McAndrew said.
Everybody has an obituary.
Many people have an obituary notice that starts off by telling us the deceased has gone to be with God, Jesus or their beloved spouse who preceded them in death. “Gaza Magyar, of Stratford, the beloved husband of Helen Volarics Magyar, went to be with man's best friend, his dog, ‘Baby.’" I guess God and/or Jesus will just have to wait in line.
Rich people have a private beach.
A bunch of rich newbie beachfront barstards put up “No Trespassing” signs on what they considered *their* private part of the beach. Us locals, when we weren’t trashing the signs, just walked along it as if we were there first – which we were. Well, we had an almighty storm recently and there ain’t no beach, just rocks. Ha Ha.
posted by Tom Carten at 1:23 AM
1 Comments:
I believe when Jason Miller died at Farley's in Scranton, his old friend and fellow imbiber Richard Harris said "He died the way he would have wanted to, in a pub."
I've always felt that any Jason Miller statue should have been seated at the bar at Farley's.
Drat, now I really regret not hanging out there with my dear friend Chelsea Clinton after she held the grand opening of her mom's election headquarters in Scranton earlier this year. That would have been a heck of a conversation-starter. "Say, Chelsea, did you ever see The Exorcist? Remember the guy who played Father Damien Karras...?"
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