Elaine Stritch dies - true-to-you.net

Elaine Stritch dies - true-to-you.net
17 July 2014

Elaine was my friend for a while. She was, of course, a demented genius - in loveable ways.
Can we appreciate the people who are around us right now? The answer, of course, is No, for we are all pathetic human beings.

It takes death for us to say aloud: thank you for everything, Elaine Stritch.

Morrissey
Switzerland, 2014.

---

Related news:

Elaine Stritch, Tart-Tongued Broadway Actress and Singer, Is Dead at 89 - The NY Times

Excerpt:

Elaine Stritch, the brassy, tart-tongued Broadway actress and singer who became a living emblem of show business durability and perhaps the leading interpreter of Stephen Sondheim’s wryly acrid musings on aging, died on Thursday at her home in Birmingham, Mich. She was 89.

 

[fredkocherpepsi]

Reading between the lines of most of his pronouncements I do get the impression he is obsessed with what he sees as his own legacy, and utterly, irrevocably depressed. Most of his tributes to others seem to be in fact saying "love me," and the deceased are merely a conduit for his anger at going largely ignored.

His lazy, casual misanthropy has become excessively tedious. I wonder if he considers the medical staff who have helped him over the last few years pathetic? By what right does he condemn seven billion people?

I've been listening to the new James album a lot recently. There are half a dozen little gems on it, and they share many lyrical themes with Morrissey's output in his pomp, to the degree that I can almost imagine Morrissey singing several of them. La Petite Mort is as marvellously uplifting and melodic as World Peace is often atonal, jarring and depressing. Tim Booth is Morrissey on Valium.

A friend of mine had trouble with her depressive husband who refused to seek medical help, so she went to see her doctor, cried her eyes out dramatically until the doctor gave her anti-depressants and promptly went home and started giving them to her husband in his food. They are still happily married today. Perhaps Morrissey's husband could do the same rather than waste an hour a day coaxing the wisps over his pate.

When I first heard World Peace's eponymous title track, as much as I loathed it, I half hoped it indicated a Morrissey concept album was on the way, and thought that might be an interesting idea. Sadly, the Morrissey concept hasn't changed for thirty years, but now, his trademark dark humour, with which he leavened many of his songs, has deserted him. The Morrissey story is old, but it goes on, and on, and on.

To Morrissey, the world is shit, from Beverly Hills to Lake Geneva, from Rome to wherever he calls now calls home, but it seems to be shit primarily because we mere mortals question his greatness.

What on earth would he think of it if he had to work for a living?

I’m not really getting that at all from what he wrote. Just seemed like a Moz way of saying “appreciate what you have now before it’s too late”.

 

[Anaesthesine]

Reading between the lines of most of his pronouncements I do get the impression he is obsessed with what he sees as his own legacy, and utterly, irrevocably depressed. Most of his tributes to others seem to be in fact saying "love me," and the deceased are merely a conduit for his anger at going largely ignored.

His lazy, casual misanthropy has become excessively tedious. I wonder if he considers the medical staff who have helped him over the last few years pathetic? By what right does he condemn seven billion people?

I've been listening to the new James album a lot recently. There are half a dozen little gems on it, and they share many lyrical themes with Morrissey's output in his pomp, to the degree that I can almost imagine Morrissey singing several of them. La Petite Mort is as marvellously uplifting and melodic as World Peace is often atonal, jarring and depressing. Tim Booth is Morrissey on Valium.

A friend of mine had trouble with her depressive husband who refused to seek medical help, so she went to see her doctor, cried her eyes out dramatically until the doctor gave her anti-depressants and promptly went home and started giving them to her husband in his food. They are still happily married today. Perhaps Morrissey's husband could do the same rather than waste an hour a day coaxing the wisps over his pate.

When I first heard World Peace's eponymous title track, as much as I loathed it, I half hoped it indicated a Morrissey concept album was on the way, and thought that might be an interesting idea. Sadly, the Morrissey concept hasn't changed for thirty years, but now, his trademark dark humour, with which he leavened many of his songs, has deserted him. The Morrissey story is old, but it goes on, and on, and on.

To Morrissey, the world is shit, from Beverly Hills to Lake Geneva, from Rome to wherever he calls now calls home, but it seems to be shit primarily because we mere mortals question his greatness.

Mr. Barleycorn: Morrissey is now (and has almost always been) a (self-described) misanthropic, clinically depressive, self-loathing, introverted nihilist who enthusiastically advocates for suicide and who finds the very notion of love and romance laughable. Folks like this tend to become ever more curmudgeonly over time, and it is highly unlikely that we will see a return of his seductive swagger and cheeky, youthful exuberance. Luckily for his audience, Morrissey has also been blessed with the most glorious pipes this side of paradise, so even his minor vocal excrescences go down like honey.

I agree with you that (on the surface) much of Morrissey's more recent output can be described as emotionally grueling; WPINOYB in particular sounds like the darkest album Marc Almond never made. I find Morrissey uplifting however: he persists and, in his own way, he triumphs. There but for the grace of god go so many.

What on earth would he think of it if he had to work for a living?

For the last 30+ years Morrissey has held an impossible job that regularly drives relatively sane folks to drink, drugs, emotional public outbursts and violence. More than a few stew in their own disappointment at this stage of the game. Icon is a job for which Morrissey was spectacularly ill-suited - I doubt many of his ilk could have done it any better.

 

[Anonymous]

I think Morrissey is using the word 'friend' very loosely. Judging by 'Autobiography' it doesn't sound like they were friends at all. Morrissey was a fan, she duly invited him to one of her television appearances he tried to keep in touch, she didn't maintain contact... end of story.

Why would how he defines "friends for awhile" even matter to you?

 

[Anonymous]

Mr. Barleycorn: Morrissey is now (and has almost always been) a (self-described) misanthropic, clinically depressive, self-loathing, introverted nihilist who enthusiastically advocates for suicide and who finds the very notion of love and romance laughable. Folks like this tend to become ever more curmudgeonly over time, and it is highly unlikely that we will see a return of his seductive swagger and cheeky, youthful exuberance. Luckily for his audience, Morrissey has also been blessed with the most glorious pipes this side of paradise, so even his minor vocal excrescences go down like honey.

I agree with you that (on the surface) much of Morrissey's more recent output can be described as emotionally grueling; WPINOYB in particular sounds like the darkest album Marc Almond never made. I find Morrissey uplifting however: he persists and, in his own way, he triumphs. There but for the grace of god go so many.



For the last 30+ years Morrissey has held an impossible job that regularly drives relatively sane folks to drink, drugs, emotional public outbursts and violence. More than a few stew in their own disappointment at this stage of the game. Icon is a job for which Morrissey was spectacularly ill-suited - I doubt many of his ilk could have done it any better.

Can I get a witness?? BRAVO!

 

[Gregor Samsa]

How a eulogy from Morrissey for someone he was friendly with could render such hate and disdain from so many people here is remarkable (and disgusting) beyond comparison. The cynicism you guys possess is on a frighteningly high level. You all must be impossible to live with and the streets you tread upon surely are unsafe for any sane person.

I pity you. You are frightful and unloveable. You know who you are.

 

[ADAM]

Two of the best Stritch stories I know from a veteran Broadway Boy:

#1. At some point, Bette Midler and entourage were in Ms Stritch's way, so, as a vivacious woman like Stritch would do, she jabbed Midler with a lit cigarette. Midler turned a screeched, "You bitch, you burned me!" Elaine retorted that her last name was "Stritch" and she'd burn her down completely if she didn't move.

#2. A producer pissed her off during a well memorized run. That evening she screamed "LINE!" for every single bit of dialogue she uttered. Messaged received...

 

[Anonymous]

A friend of mine had trouble with her depressive husband who refused to seek medical help, so she went to see her doctor, cried her eyes out dramatically until the doctor gave her anti-depressants and promptly went home and started giving them to her husband in his food. They are still happily married today. Perhaps Morrissey's husband could do the same rather than waste an hour a day coaxing the wisps over his pate.

This made me lol. Especially as I read "pâté" first...

Technically, it's not a bad idea. But I doubt any of us plebeians would benefit from a sudden change of mood and a new-found hope and love for existence and human beings.
Perhaps PA's would get a raise (in any sense), perhaps Jesse would get a pinata, but I think it would just make Morrissey kiss himself and tell himself how wonderful he is. More than once a week, I mean. Everyday.

 

[gonzax]

If you want to know this weekend's lottery numbers, just ask.

http://www.morrissey-solo.com/threa...Thread?p=1986854591&viewfull=1#post1986854591

P.

that was good!
will you tell me 6 numbers for Spanish lottery, please?

 

[Uncleskinny]

that was good!
will you tell me 6 numbers for Spanish lottery, please?

3,11,12,28,31,38

You're welcome.

P.

 

[Anonymous]

Dear Morrissey,
We are all pathetic human beings? Just because you can't appreciate those around you doesn't mean the rest of us can't. If you feel pathetic because of your inability to appreciate fellow humans, you may want to see a doctor about being a potential sociopath, instead of assuming the rest of humanity is just as cold and self-absorbed as you seem to be.

Haze

 

[Sunday Girl Everyday]

I recently saw Shoot Me the documentary about Elaine. She really was beyond funny. She was asked what was the one thing she would want on a deserted island and she said oh that is easy-an open bar!

 

[CrystalGeezer]

I may have misjudged you Crystal... Hmmm another post to convince me to sign up.

Pardon my trust issues, but f*** off.

 

[Anonymous]

I recently saw Shoot Me the documentary about Elaine. She really was beyond funny. She was asked what was the one thing she would want on a deserted island and she said oh that is easy-an open bar!

Im not saying she isn't funny but 'an open bar' isn't hilarius, it's hardly beyond funny is it? you could have picked something better.

 

[Anonymous]

Reading between the lines of most of his pronouncements I do get the impression he is obsessed with what he sees as his own legacy, and utterly, irrevocably depressed. Most of his tributes to others seem to be in fact saying "love me," and the deceased are merely a conduit for his anger at going largely ignored.

His lazy, casual misanthropy has become excessively tedious. I wonder if he considers the medical staff who have helped him over the last few years pathetic? By what right does he condemn seven billion people?

I've been listening to the new James album a lot recently. There are half a dozen little gems on it, and they share many lyrical themes with Morrissey's output in his pomp, to the degree that I can almost imagine Morrissey singing several of them. La Petite Mort is as marvellously uplifting and melodic as World Peace is often atonal, jarring and depressing. Tim Booth is Morrissey on Valium.

A friend of mine had trouble with her depressive husband who refused to seek medical help, so she went to see her doctor, cried her eyes out dramatically until the doctor gave her anti-depressants and promptly went home and started giving them to her husband in his food. They are still happily married today. Perhaps Morrissey's husband could do the same rather than waste an hour a day coaxing the wisps over his pate.

When I first heard World Peace's eponymous title track, as much as I loathed it, I half hoped it indicated a Morrissey concept album was on the way, and thought that might be an interesting idea. Sadly, the Morrissey concept hasn't changed for thirty years, but now, his trademark dark humour, with which he leavened many of his songs, has deserted him. The Morrissey story is old, but it goes on, and on, and on.

To Morrissey, the world is shit, from Beverly Hills to Lake Geneva, from Rome to wherever he calls now calls home, but it seems to be shit primarily because we mere mortals question his greatness.

What on earth would he think of it if he had to work for a living?

Does her husband know he's stocked up to high heaven on magic pills?

 

[Sunday Girl Everyday]

Im not saying she isn't funny but 'an open bar' isn't hilarius, it's hardly beyond funny is it? you could have picked something better.

Watch the documentary. You might like it. I did. She was very funny.

 

[Anonymous]

Reading between the lines of most of his pronouncements I do get the impression he is obsessed with what he sees as his own legacy, and utterly, irrevocably depressed. Most of his tributes to others seem to be in fact saying "love me," and the deceased are merely a conduit for his anger at going largely ignored.

His lazy, casual misanthropy has become excessively tedious. I wonder if he considers the medical staff who have helped him over the last few years pathetic? By what right does he condemn seven billion people?

I've been listening to the new James album a lot recently. There are half a dozen little gems on it, and they share many lyrical themes with Morrissey's output in his pomp, to the degree that I can almost imagine Morrissey singing several of them. La Petite Mort is as marvellously uplifting and melodic as World Peace is often atonal, jarring and depressing. Tim Booth is Morrissey on Valium.

A friend of mine had trouble with her depressive husband who refused to seek medical help, so she went to see her doctor, cried her eyes out dramatically until the doctor gave her anti-depressants and promptly went home and started giving them to her husband in his food. They are still happily married today. Perhaps Morrissey's husband could do the same rather than waste an hour a day coaxing the wisps over his pate.

When I first heard World Peace's eponymous title track, as much as I loathed it, I half hoped it indicated a Morrissey concept album was on the way, and thought that might be an interesting idea. Sadly, the Morrissey concept hasn't changed for thirty years, but now, his trademark dark humour, with which he leavened many of his songs, has deserted him. The Morrissey story is old, but it goes on, and on, and on.

To Morrissey, the world is shit, from Beverly Hills to Lake Geneva, from Rome to wherever he calls now calls home, but it seems to be shit primarily because we mere mortals question his greatness.

What on earth would he think of it if he had to work for a living?

I think you're jealous and that sounds like a marriage from hell.

 

[Anonymous]

Dear Morrissey,
We are all pathetic human beings? Just because you can't appreciate those around you doesn't mean the rest of us can't. If you feel pathetic because of your inability to appreciate fellow humans, you may want to see a doctor about being a potential sociopath, instead of assuming the rest of humanity is just as cold and self-absorbed as you seem to be.

Haze

Sociopaths hurt people. They're not people who don't appreciate their fellow humans. He has not shown any signs of sociopathy. If he was a completely average person like some people want him to be, he wouldn't have had his artistic career, or even be interesting enough for discussion.

An easy way to diagnose a sociopath is they often hurt animals when they're children/minors. For ex, George Bush used to put fire crackers inside of turtles when he was a child. Notice Morrissey doesn't even eat meat.

 

[northernleech]

Wow, wasn't she just about to or in the process of doing a big show? I only know her from a few Woody Allen films but she seemed like an original. Where was Mozzer's obituary for Tommy Ramone? Did I miss that?

Was in woodys film "september" ... quite a sombre one all set in a summerhouse ....i loved it and she was a massive presence in it .... couple of clips on youtube , also starred denholm elliott , jack warden , mia farrow , diana weist and sam waterston .... haven't seen it in years ...check it out

 

[Anonymous]

Sociopaths hurt people. They're not people who don't appreciate their fellow humans. He has not shown any signs of sociopathy. If he was a completely average person like some people want him to be, he wouldn't have had his artistic career, or even be interesting enough for discussion.

An easy way to diagnose a sociopath is they often hurt animals when they're children/minors. For ex, George Bush used to put fire crackers inside of turtles when he was a child. Notice Morrissey doesn't even eat meat.

Not all sociopaths hurt people, or light firecrackers in turtles.

 

[jdbabz]

Why would how he defines "friends for awhile" even matter to you?

I read 'Autobiography', they didn't strike me as being friends at all from what he described. Have you read that part? perhaps you should read it again. Seemed more like Morrissey was interested in her as a fan and Elaine indulged that for a very short while.