What? Oh, I'm sorry.I got lost in a private fantasy for a moment. You see, fifty years ago, Paul Newman and Marlon Brando were It! They were The Top of the Line for sexy Hollywood hunks. Plus, they were also respected actors! How did that happen?
Just below them (Paul and Marlon were such tops!) were the second tier hot '50's boy toys, James Dean, Tab Hunter, and my darling little Sal Mineo.
Of the five of them, Tab may have been the least-highly regarded for his acting, but Tab has had the last laugh, because they're all dead, and Tab is still alive and well, and for a man in his mid-70s, still surprisingly hot, which is more than you can say for Tony Curtis.
Now I understand Tony's success working as a drag queen. He didn't need to tuck!
Wasn't I talking about Paul Newman? Well, when you have a topic as dispiriting as the death of Paul Newman, one tends to keep changing the subject. It's called "Avoidance."
Speaking of avoidance, I spent over 50 years trying to get into Paul's pants, but he kept giving me the brush-off. In fact, at times it was more like a hurl-off-and-flee-away. And what a flimsy, silly excuse he kept giving me. Get this; he kept claiming he was practising something called "Marital Fidelity." What the hell is that? A bizarre religious cult, like Shakers or Mormons? (Actually, while Mormons are big on Marital Fidelity, they allow men an unlimited amount of wives to be faithful to. Little Dougie's Mormon bishop great-great-grandfather, William Haney Hickenlooper, was faithful to all three of Dougie's great-great-grandmothers at the same time!) Paul Newman's bizarre insistence on only having sex with his wife seems to me like being Sexually Amish.
Paul would say to me of Joanne Woodward, while giving me the slip, "Why would I eat a hamburger on the road when I have steak at home?" Frankly, if you're feeling peckish while you're out and dinner is hours away, don't you hit McDonald's for a Big Mac or stop off for some pizza, no matter what is on ice in your freezer at the house? I usually have a fine wine waiting at Morehead Heights, but it's never stopped me from hitting a bar or 12 en route for a vodka martini to sustain me until I get there, even when I'm merely a block away.
And really, I'm willing to share. It's not like they were above some creative play. Look at this photo of a hot Newman Family three-way. Frankly, that extra bitch looks like a real dog to me!
And of course, in his memoir Palimpsest, Gore Vidal told of how, for a while in the 1950s, Paul, Joanne, and Gore all three lived together! Even The Mormons would have glanced at that askew. And Gore has remained close friends, "Family" if you will, with The Newmans ever since. How did they menagé that household? What was their "Design for Living"? Am I supposed to believe that Gore Vidal shared a home with one of The Sexiest Men Alive at that time, and never got up to bat? Or that Joanne was always included? She won an Oscar for The Three Faces of Eve; what about The Three Roommates of Malibu? Don't believe me? Check out this picture of Paul and Gore actually handling some impressively hung Italian hunk's balls! Those are some mighty impressive basket-balls!
Oh well, I guess if that's the way Paul swung away from Joanne (He did after all, only swear off hamburgers. He never said he was above a juicy hotdog slipped between fresh, hot buns.), I suppose I should be grateful I didn't end up married to him. But then, what woman wouldn't want to be married to Paul Newman? Well, one woman: Nancy Reagan. Lucky escape there --- for Paul!
Anyway, Paul left us a tremendous film legacy. Like all movie lovers, his death has left me bluer than Paul's eyes, and they were the bluest ever. When I think of "Old Blue Eyes," I think first "Jack Benny," and then Paul. (Sorry. Sinatra to me was always "Chairman of the Bored.")
But Paul was only 83, barely out of diapers, or at least, not yet back into them. I'm 111, so 83 seems still boyish to me. What could possibly have given Paul a fatal cancer so young?
Puff, puff, puff.
Paul Newman is dead. My ex-husband Ernest Borgnine is still alive. Does anyone need further proof that there is no God?