Korman Yock-Well

by Backthrow
Obit Bureau



A pity, we’ll miss Harvey Korman
His fanbase: from mogul to doorman
Be he “Hedley Lamarr”
“Great Gazoo”, or co-star
On CAROL BURNETT-- laughs galore, man!

Bet Your Sweet R.I.P.py

Dick Martin tossed zingers quite zippy
While Goldie danced painted as hippie
The finger of fate
Laughed in 68
On that you can bet your sweet bippy

The King Of Comics

When Nazi jackboots took the stage
His hero flew right off the page
The comics he drew
Were red, white and blue
His Captain had Hitler enraged

At Marvel his talents broke free
With boundless, unmatched energy
Lines bold and alive
With power and drive
Erased the lead held by DC

The Hulk, all the X-Men and Thor

The Surfer and Fantastic Four,
In awe, it’s no wonder

His spell we fell under

And, fast as Jack drew, wanted more

Of the comics Jack Kirby is King
His nobility not a small thing
From his pencil unfurled
A dynamic Fourth World
New Gods, from his forehead, did spring

The Earle of Television, R.I.P.

You’re caught in a musical net
Emitting from old TV set
With A. Griffith Show
A-whist’ling you’ll go
Once heard it was hard to forget

Earle Hagen, composer of themes
Wrote catchy, short tunes, and by reams
We all know and like

I Spy, Dick Van Dyke
Earl scored a lot more than some teams

The Mod Squad and That Girl show why

Old Earle was prolific song guy

One cannot un-learn
His Harlem Nocturne*
Jazz tune that gets smoke in your eye

*I prefer the Johnny Otis take from 1945,

but 42 different versions of Earle Hagen's

Harlem Nocturne are available here

Wigged Out Wag

Tom Lehrer said satire, in his eyes,
Became a defunct exercise
To do any more
He slammed shut the door
When Kissinger won Nobel Peace Prize

Abyss Me Deadly

Like chumps trapped in paths of black cars

Bleak fates await guys in film noirs

They're all on the spot

And can't change the plot:

The chair, or else life behind bars

Smoke Gets In Your Fries

When craving a taste that is true
There's nothing quite like barbeque
Your fingers you'll lick
If to ribs you stick
On meat we were all meant to chew

Pulled pork, Texas brisket or tips
From chicken and links the sauce drips
With cole slaw and fries
I'll meet my demise
To heaven I'll go smacking lips

McGraw and Order

by Backthrow
Hollywood Bureau



Three cheers for gruff Charles McGraw
Gravel-voiced and granite of jaw
He’s equally thrillin’
As hero or villain
At home on both sides of the law


"Narrow Margin": McGraw's on a train
His mission, some might think insane;
Moll witness protection,
Evading detection
From mobsters' guns, aimed at her brain



In "The Threat", Chuck's a bad one, quite raw
A cool glacier of crime that won't thaw
If you tangle with "Red"
You will soon end up dead
Then he'll give with a raspy guffaw

Blowin' Candles In The Wind

The "voice of a generation"
Has cause for a celebration
Today, my heaven,
He's sixty seven
Bob Dylan, the voice of duration

The Last Comics Standing

Black Xs crossed eyes on the dead
A light bulb burned out over head
Was I a cartoon?
Asked words in balloon
With borders erased, pages bled

Tall Doll

by Backthrow
Hollywood Bureau

Witness 50-foot Allison Hayes!
Through an HO-scale landscape she sways!
Her two-timing spouse
She'll squish, like a mouse
And his cheap juke-joint hangout she'll raze!

About Face

Far East Bureau

B. Karloff once ate a cashew

Allergic'lly sneezed an "Ah-choo!"

And upon his face
There was not a trace

Of that which made him Fu Manchu

Writer's Blockhead

It's late in the day, want to dose
But still have a line to compose
My head's full enough
But all of it's fluff
Thank God I am not writing prose

Injury To The CGI

By firelight we drew on cave walls
Told stories in primitive scrawls
To Renaissance, high
Art Mirrored the eye
Now pixels illuminate brawls

Sword Cleaver

by Backthrow
Tokyo Bureau



The blind swordsman they call 'Zatoichi'
Is most humble, wise, wry… never preachy
With a blade swung so fast
His opponents don't last
All his twenty-six films are quite peachy

Respect Your Elder

by Backthrow


(click on image for a larger view)

Rest In Peace, my hero, Will Elder
The best art/hilarity melder
He could ape any style
with such ease, all the while
fusing background gags in, like a welder


(click on image for a larger view)

The Elder Jokesman

Eyeball Kicks: The Bucket

Will Elder, the master of "Chicken Fat"
He'd always make room so he'd stick in that
Li'l treat for the eye
With humor so wry
His gags are like scabs that he's pickin' at!

The Sons Of Willie Elder

by surlyh

A mad artist extraordinaire

Will Elder hid gags everywhere

In each nook and cranny

Of Li'l Annie Fannie

Shampooed chicken fat in her hair

His riotous sight-gag mish-mosh

Is feast for the eyes on to nosh

Graffiti he'd scrawl

Like kid on a wall

A funny Hieronymous Bosch

Behind him his followers trail

Though none ever match in detail

His impact profound

Upon underground

His works to them are Holy Grail

Jacques Itch

By surlyh

Hollywood Bureau

It isn't just acting or plot
Suspense is a slow tracking shot
What shadows conceal

the mind will reveal

Fear isn’t what's seen, but what’s not

I walked With A Zombie is great
Jayne Eyre with a trance, undead gait

When stabbed, not a peep

for she's not asleep

Tis Voodoo pulls her to her fate

Cat People are not what they seem
Cute kittens are quite off the beam

And if you arouse one

you won't hear meows, son

as claws cut you up you'll hear scream

The clicks of a girl’s castanet

cut short like a crushed cigarette

In silence of night

a train sound's a fright

The Leopard Man’s good as it gets

A skeptic whose death is foretold
is cursed: in three days he’ll be cold
Old runes from Stonehenge
will have their revenge
as Night Of The Demon unfolds

Dark glimpses through half open door

Tourneur will leave you wanting more

A film universe

hypnotic and terse

A mystery lurks at the core

A Speck Of Serial

This craze for film serial killers
Those psycho yet genius blood-spillers
Has made me uneasy
I'd even say queasy

My taste runs to Jacques Tourneur thrillers

Last Call

With end of the world drawing near
The booze I would choose would be beer
Whenever I roam
From drink without foam
I miss the ol' suds I hold dear

Robert Rauschenberg R.I.P.

No house special, he -- try a la carte
Found objects and images each played their part
Was he Neo-Dada?
Neo-yadda-yadda!
He worked in the gap between life and art

Uno Mas For The Road

A girl that I knew quelled her sorrow

By drinking like there's no tomorrow

Her name was Maria

Her drink was tequila

Her tears tasted like El Tesoro

A Boozing Proposition

by Backthrow
Skid Row Bureau

A lugubrious soul from Poughkeepsie
Had far too much drink, and was tipsy
His full-alcohol drown
Turned his frown upside-down
The next day he woke, wed to a gypsy

Surreal Estate

by Backthrow
Catalonian Bureau




Happy Birthday to Salvador Dali!
The surreal was his aid and his ally
Plains with stark, propped-up walls
Decked with ants and eyeballs
As some watches melt down through the valley

Office Depoo

When brown-nosers anger their bosses
With ass-kissing they cut their losses
But when french-kissers bow
Back of those dropping 'trou'
We hope he who bends also flosses

Disparate Measures

James Barrie dreamed up Peter Pan,
Van Gogh once did room with Gaugin,
Pete Sellers made S'mores
With Diana Dors
And Clapton's nickname is "Slow Hand"

Trust the Ida's Touch

by Backthrow
Hollywood Bureau





Raise a glass to Ms. Ida Lupino
She had class, if you know what I mean, oh
As actress, director
A statue, erect her
Respect her, while drinking your vino









'Second-string Bette Davis'? --They lied!
Ida's screen presence can't be denied
Whether ingenue, moll
Or 'film noir' femme fatale
She excelled at whatever she tried






In "Deep Valley", "Road House", "The Hard Way"
"The Sea Wolf", Ida knew how to play
Parts that were kind and cruel
--She was nobody's fool--
Though Rob Ryan once ruined her day...


(Psycho handyman Robert Ryan traps Ida at home in 'Beware My Lovely' (1952))

Boob Job

Defying Gravity Dept.

Inventors, whom colleagues esteemed,
Of bosoms aloft had long dreamed
So did engineer
The bra, or brassiere
And dames had their 'headlights' high-beamed

Rectum For A Heavyweight

Young Tony Stark was a charmer
He built him a suit made of armor
His diet was high in
Bronze, cobalt and iron
His B.M.'s repelled a pig farmer

I, Caramba

It's Cinco de Mayo, amigo
From Fresno to Butte to Oswego
Big celebration
All cross the nation
But south of the border--s'no beego

Porn Koan

Though Miss Primrose took it in the breech
Porn-biz stardom she never could reach
Now in her crevasse
Comes her high school class
“Those who can’t do” she says, “can still teach.”

Babbling About Brooks

In silent screen star Louise Brooks
Was beauty that went beyond looks
In her eyes can be seen
Such life on the screen
About her they’re still writing books