Celebrity R.I.P.s

Discussion in 'In the News' started by Ra, Jan 28, 2017.

  1. Bliss

    Bliss Well-Known Member

  2. CAkicker

    CAkicker Well-Known Member

    Last edited: Sep 16, 2024
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    CAkicker Well-Known Member

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    CAkicker Well-Known Member

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  5. Bliss

    Bliss Well-Known Member

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    CAkicker Well-Known Member

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  7. Thump

    Thump Well-Known Member

    Wow, a lot of greats are leaving us.
     
  8. Young Herschel

    Young Herschel Well-Known Member


    Thank you for posting this yesterday. I just heard the news the morning and came on here to post it. He was one of the GREATEST fathers in the history of American Television and the cornerstone of my favorite childhood show "Good Times". Loved his performance as adult Kunta King's in the ABC adaptation of "Roots" and in "Coming to America" as Mr. McDowell as well as that warrior monk in "Beast Master". He will be so sorely missed by his multitude of fans and as a proud member of Kansas City Chiefs Kingdom where he was a dutiful member of their Championship practice squads though he never got activated to play on the official roster.
     
  9. Tony Soprano

    Tony Soprano Moderator

    Since you already mentioned his brief time with the Kansas City Chiefs back in the day, here's a nice little fun fact about the late John Amos.

    John Amos was the one who originally coined the phrase "The Turk" when an NFL player is in the process of getting cut from the team. He also wrote a poem about it. Wanna hear it, here it goes...

    https://www.facebook.com/share/p/3e3KtJnKrn4ndyg1/?mibextid=oFDknk

    THE TURK by John Amos

    AFL Anthology presents the transcript of John Amos’s poem “The Turk”…

    In every professional football camp,
    There’s a man that’s known to all,
    Now there’s no one way of describing him,
    Cause he’s husky, thin, long, short and tall.

    Now, if this sounds contradictory, then listen on my friends,
    As I describe this man of many faces,
    And I assure you before I reach the end,
    You’ll agree he’s in many places.

    Now, no one has ever seen this man or this figure made of mist,
    But I defy you to find one pro ball player who would not claim he does not exist.

    Now his occupation is cutting heads,
    On that we all agree,
    You ask, “Amos, how is it you know so much of him?”
    My answer: he’s walked on me.

    Now the phrase “cutting heads” seems to cause you concern,
    You tell me it’s meaning you have yet to learn.

    Well, my friends gather around and lend me an ear,
    And I’ll tell you how I met his acquaintance one year.

    I just finished college ball in the fall of ’63,
    When the Denver Broncos contracted me.

    Now being of sound of body and strong of limb,
    I decided to try my luck with them.

    July 15 found me just raring to go,
    My young rookie hands already counting that dough.

    But in training, however, I pulled a hamstring,
    For a free-agent rookie, ‘twas a terrible thing.

    Later that night, still my first day in camp,
    Something came across my mind leaving an indelible stamp.

    ‘Twas a phrase quite foreign to my rookie ear,
    A vet mumbling something about “The Turk being near”.

    I inquired of this vet, “Hey, just what does that mean?”
    And in the quite of my room, he unfolded this scene.

    His name was Leroy Moore, but he was known as Sweet-Pea,
    And it was he who first mentioned The Turk’s name to me.

    “Oh, he’ll come for you, Amos. You rookie just as sure as can be,
    All you hamstrings, sprained ankles, and those not sound of knee.”

    He preceded my friends without further ado,
    To tell me in detail what Turk’s work bid him do.

    His eyes slanted down to the thinnest of dimes,
    And he riveted his pupils and irises on mine.

    He said in a voice still quivering with fear,
    “There were sixty of us at noon, now there’s fifty-nine here.”

    Unless you recuperate with all possible dispatch,
    Your head will be added to The Turk’s growing batch.

    I told Sweet-Pea, “Leave!”
    I considered his presence an imposition,
    All this talk about cutting me,
    And he and I playing different positions.

    He reluctantly rose and as he reached for the door,
    He sorrowfully said, “Well, The Turk’s claimed one more.”

    Just as I retired and turned out the lamp,
    Something at the window made my feets turn damp.

    Two glimmering eyes they seemed like to me,
    Fire-like and fiercely they burned into me.

    Big as life, strong as death,
    He was there,
    Standing outside my window,
    On fourth-story mid-air.

    Big he was with a beard and a ring in his nose,
    With a sack full of heads that hung down to his toes.

    I slumped to my knees,
    My heart all a flutter,
    Before losing consciousness,
    I heard the thing utter.

    “I AM THE TURK!
    Of that you can be certain,
    And some time on you, Amos,
    I’m going to ‘ring down the curtain.”

    I lost all track in things that took place,
    The last thing I saw was The Turk’s wicked face.

    For I sank into a blissful coma at last,
    When I awoke, the evening had passed.

    When in walked the trainer,
    On his face the queerest look,
    He said, “The coach wants you, Amos,
    And, uh, bring your playbook.”

    The coach greeted me and said, “Have a seat”,
    The next words I still find it hard to repeat.

    “Son,” he said affectionately,
    And this made my heart glow,
    “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to let you go.”

    His words stunned my ears with their smashing impact,
    My mind ceased to function like a train off the track.

    My thoughts of a ranch home, a new XKE had gone up in smoke.
    The Turk walked on me,
    To pay off that mortgage that was owed by mom.
    Shucks, The Turk blew that up in a ten-second storm.

    My hopes and my dreams had just turned to dust,
    The Turk in my ear whispered, “Cut you, I must.”

    My pride had been shattered,
    My ego deflated,
    I was dejected,
    The Turk was elated.

    So in parting, I leave you with this simple advice,
    Beware of The Turk, for his heart is like ice.

    His eyes are all-seeing,
    His ears hear all sounds,
    He picks up on dropped passes,
    And all missed first downs.

    He picks up on linemen who forget who to block,
    He picks up on flankers faking you out of your jock.

    He’ll even cut no-cuts,
    Pay them off, send them home,
    He’ll cut and hack a squad down to the bone.

    Those surviving the ax need not feel too secure,
    For The Turk’s always waiting of that be assured.

    You there, vet, and you, rookie,
    And you, free agent like me,
    The Turk will have all of helmets hanging from his tree.

    So heed these last words as I bid you adieu,
    Look over your shoulder,
    Who’s that reaching for you?
    FB_IMG_1727966985344.jpg
     
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  10. Bliss

    Bliss Well-Known Member

    It was all over FB yesterday that he had died, so l looked his bio up and saw he actually died back in August. I thought, how did l miss it back then?

    Turns out no one knew, either. Everyone missed it, including his family, who have some serious questions about it....

    Screenshot_20241004_224322_Chrome.jpg
    Screenshot_20241004_224243_Chrome.jpg

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAmTuS4x6ug/?igsh=aGlmN2xibzI5bnZ1
     
  11. Young Herschel

    Young Herschel Well-Known Member


    Watching "A Killing Affair" right now and the set up for the interracial sex scene was gradual and plot-plausible. It would have been whack if they didn't hook up because all the elements were there. It is a made-for-tv movie from 1977 so scene is subdued of course. Elizabeth Montgomery didn't hold back when selling the scene though.
     
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  12. CAkicker

    CAkicker Well-Known Member

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  13. Soulthinker

    Soulthinker Well-Known Member

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