As reader's of my almost-honored autobiography My Lush Life know only too well, I was married to Ernest Borgnine very briefly back in the 1960s, though neither he nor I have any recollection of this fact, so I should say Happy Birthday to him today, as he turns 90. (I never could resist younger men. What a hot young hunk he remains, or I should say, are his remains.)
Ethel Merman was another of his wives. Once on The Match Game, that sexy beast Gene Rayburn asked Ethel, "You were married to Ernest Borgnine for an hour or two weren't you?"
Ethel replied, "It was twenty-five minutes. And they were the longest twenty-five minutes of my entire life!" What could I possibly add to praise like that?
So Happy Birthday Ernie. And my Longdead Companion, the Headless Indian Brave, has a message for you from Ethel on The Other Side: "Dearest darling Ernie, fuck you."
Only Ethel is loud enough to be heard, even from beyond the grave.
Cheers darlings.
Ethel Merman was another of his wives. Once on The Match Game, that sexy beast Gene Rayburn asked Ethel, "You were married to Ernest Borgnine for an hour or two weren't you?"
Ethel replied, "It was twenty-five minutes. And they were the longest twenty-five minutes of my entire life!" What could I possibly add to praise like that?
So Happy Birthday Ernie. And my Longdead Companion, the Headless Indian Brave, has a message for you from Ethel on The Other Side: "Dearest darling Ernie, fuck you."
Only Ethel is loud enough to be heard, even from beyond the grave.
Cheers darlings.
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