True Confessions: My Torrid Affair With Buddy Hackett


Love is a wonderful thing, my friends. As I reflect on my colorful and unconventional life, I must say that I’ve been blessed to have shared intimacies with an extraordinarily large number of the rich and famous. I’m not sure what it is that draws these handsome, virile, talented men to me like flies to a donut shop, but I’ve never regretted a single affair. I can recall so many– among them Jay Silverheels, Mel Torme, Richard Deacon (aka Mel Cooley), and Dick Wilson, who insisted that, at all times, I refer to him as “Mr. Whipple.” In return, he called me Charmin, and he squeezed me constantly. He was a little kinky that way, but I adored him. Call me romantic, call me irresponsible. I don’t care. I’m a fool for love.

Many of these relationships have led to heartbreak. I was left at the altar by Gene Gene, the Dancing Machine. Liberace avoided committment by trying to convince me that he was gay (believe me, that sequined stud was as heterosexual as Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter combined). Marty Feldman had a heart attack during our strenuous lovemaking. But I’d never change a thing. I recovered quickly from the demise of each liaison, knowing that the next passion-inflamed lover would soon be knocking upon my door.

There was one romance that I never completely recovered from though, one man who swept me off my feet like an O-Cedar broom at a witches convention and changed my life forever. That man was Buddy Hackett.

Buddy. Just saying his name fills me with heartache and sorrow. Heartache for what that bastard he did to me. Sorrow because of what could have been.

I’ll never forget the first words he said to me: “Two triple pastramis on rye, light mustard. Extra pickles on the side.”

I heard the voice, but at first I couldn’t figure out where that sexy sound was coming from. Then I noticed the top of a mop of shiny black hair, and a dark pair of hungry eyes peeking over the counter top. As he stood on tiptoe placing his order, I almost fainted. I knew in an instant that those eyes weren’t just hungry for deli food. Oh no, they were undressing me like he would soon be unwrapping the delectable sandwiches that I was preparing for him.

Buddy. I was so overcome with the intense heat between us, that all I could do was hand him his change. He pressed a quarter into my palm, and said meaningfully, “Here’s a little something for you, sweetcheeks.” As the door closed on his fat behind, I never thought I’d see him again. Oh, how wrong I was.

Later that afternoon, I stood in front of the deli wearing a wooden sandwich board that said, “Eat at Lindy’s!” We employees took turns standing in front of the building during slow times, which allowed us to smoke cigarettes and down a few beers while we drummed up business.

As I was chugging the last few sips of my Pabst Blue Ribbon, a gleaming black limo pulled up alongside me. A tinted window was lowered and I heard a sexy voice say, “Board?” The sheer wit of that little pun made beer shoot out of my nose. It was of course, Buddy. He’d returned to woo me.

“Um…yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” I replied.

He opened the door and I stepped inside. We sped away from my career at Lindy’s and into the glitzy world of Buddy Hackett.

How can I describe him? He was raw sensuality, machismo wrapped in the body of a miniature sumo wrestler. He showered me with jewels and furs, and servants fed us Jordan Almonds and Necco Wafers as we sat in his darkened screening room watching The Love Bug over and over again. Seeing himself on screen, riding around in that little talking VW seemed to ignite his sexual urges like nothing I’d ever experienced. Looking back, I realize that he was fantasizing about that car during our lovemaking, but that only heightened the eroticism of it all.

I often had to pinch myself. I was Buddy Hackett’s mistress! My days became a haze of shopping expeditions and luncheons with the girlfriends of Gavin MacLeod, Nipsy Russell, Nancy Kulp and other fabulous stars. Buddy and I traveled to comedy clubs across the country where he performed his act. We shook the walls of every Howard Johnson’s from the Catskills to L.A. with our passionate lovemaking, then we’d shower and dress and travel to wherever he was appearing that night. He was often late, I guiltily admit. Once we arrived at the venue, I’d watch proudly from a reserved corner table, drinking Cold Duck and eating calamari as he wowed the crowds over and over again. Never had I been so enraptured.

Of course, it couldn’t last. Buddy was too much of a man for one woman. I mean this literally and figuratively.

One night, I entered the bedroom of his mansion, and I knew something was different. He looked the same, a rotund, dwarf-sized, hirsute Cary Grant in his silk robe and slippers, sexily draped across the zebra skin bedspread like a Playgirl centerfold, but my intuition told me that something was amiss. And then I saw it. On the nightstand, beside the Tiffany bed lamp was a nail file. A nail file that wasn’t mine.

“Come to Papa,” Buddy said, in that sexy, distinctive voice. Of course, when he said it, it sounded sort of like, “Come to Phlawpa,” which usually aroused me even more. But this time was different.

I looked at him lying there, and I knew it was over. My face was burning with anger, and grief filled my heart.

“Who is she, Buddy?” I asked quietly, holding the nail file in front of him.

At first he denied it, and said that he’d bought the nail file for me, that the claw marks on his back had drawn so much blood that he’d become anemic. But he knew he couldn’t fool me. A woman knows these things.

“Yes, there’s someone else,” he finally confessed. “I’ve been seeing Madge.”

I was incredulous. “Madge?? On the Palmolive commercials?

“One and the same,” he answered, a little too smugly.

I started crying. “What’s she got that I haven’t got?” I asked.

“A stiff, puffy hairdo and a ballsy persona,” he answered.

He then went on to describe in detail how skilled she was in the art of love. She was a tigress, that Madge. A skillful seductress who rendered powerless every man in her path. He described her heart-shaped bed, and her extra large bathtub. She ran him bubble baths and sponged his hairy back. He claimed that it was the most relaxing experience he’d ever had.

“Mild?” I asked.

“Oh, more than just mild,” he replied.

And with that, it was all over. I packed the furs, the jewels, a live Maine lobster and the stuffed animals that he’d given me, but I left my heart behind.

I licked my wounds by moving on to the next man. Dave Madden, the guy who played Reuben Kincaid, the manager on “The Partridge Family.” He’d been pursuing me for months, and we soon began a torrid affair.

Dave took me to dinner at The Four Seasons one night, and as we sat gazing at each other over our candlelit dinner, I noticed another couple sitting a short distance away. It was Buddy and that harlot, Madge. She was wearing her manicurist’s uniform, and her rock hard hair was a perfect little mushroom cloud. I thought that I was over it, but I must say seeing them in that intimate setting, she buffing Buddy’s fingernails as he drank his wine, just infuriated me.

I picked up my bowl of lobster bisque and made my way to their table. In a flash, I dumped my soup on Madge’s head. Great globs of lobstery goo poured down her starched white uniform.

“You’re soaking in it,” I said to the slut who stole my man. As the other patrons gasped, I gathered my dignity, along with my coat and purse, and walked out the door, Dave following close behind.

I never saw Buddy again. He’s up in that Great Comedy Club in the Sky now, but I’ll never forget him. Nine months after we split up, I secretly gave birth to his love child. I named her Buddina Hackettina McQueen (Tina for short), and she is the light of my life. She now works at the same deli where I met her father. Wearing the now-faded Lindy’s sandwich board, she endlessly walks the sidewalk as she chugs her beer, waiting for the love of her life to magically appear.

Her father would have been so proud.

Here’s a story about another one of my great love affairs, this one with Mr. Rogers.

 

<i>Originally published February 19, 2008.

57 thoughts on “True Confessions: My Torrid Affair With Buddy Hackett

  1. LittleMiss says:

    So, that’s what you’ve been up to today. The blogosphere has been oddly silent, and will soon be filled with adoring laughter from all your other fans besides me. :)

  2. @ LM: Here’s what I’ve been up to (this is really sad). I’ve been really sick, with some sort of respiratory infection, which led to an ear infection. So, I get this great idea to take some old antibiotics that I had from like 1972. It’s Augmentin, which is very strong. I took some yesterday, and although I was still feeling sick today, I had all of these stories in my head, and I was dying to write, and post something in my blog. It drives me crazy not to be able to do anything.

    Here’s the sad part. Today, I started getting really sick to my stomach, because of the medicine. I haven’t been able to eat much, and I thought that might have been the problem. So I’m sort of propped up at my desk, trying to do some blogging, but I was too nauseous. Tom made me a PB and J and made me eat it while I was lying in bed. Soon, I got up, because, you see, I’m a blogging addict, and I’d convinced myself that I was better. So there I was, writing, searching for pictures, doing some PhotoShopping, with a plastic bag beside me, just in case. Sure enough, I started throwing up like crazy, while still sitting at my computer (I couldn’t have made it to the bathroom). I suddenly remembered that that was why I still had the antibiotics– they made me sick. Anyway, I threw up, felt a bit better, and immediately went back to my post. Dr. Drew would have something to say about this, if I was a B-list celebrity with some bucks.

  3. rick mobbs says:

    Enjoyed your mad romp. Hope you are feeling great again soon!

  4. randomyriad says:

    I always thought Josephine the plumber was a sultry vixen, myself, but Madge is pretty hot. Funny stuff! “Board?” Ha! Hope you feel better soon.

  5. Wendy says:

    I’m sorry you’re so sick, but I’m relieved it hasn’t dampened your humor at all. This was such a wonderful post, Rick Mobbs said it best when he called it a “romp.” I can’t decide which are my favorite lines, but these are in the lead:
    “…was as heterosexual as Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter combined.”
    And
    “… hungry eyes peeking over the counter top.”
    The photos are wonderful, especially that one of Buddy in his groovy phase, but the one of you in your sandwich board is priceless.

  6. Heather says:

    “…was as heterosexual as Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter combined.”
    BRILLIANT!!

  7. raincoaster says:

    Whoa. I just skimmed it. I think I’m gonna need more wine…

  8. [...] True Confessions: My torrid affair with Buddy Hackett (moonbeammcqueen) [...]

  9. cantueso says:

    I cannot read yet, still have my brain full of paracetamol, keep falling asleep even while typing. I am happy to think that you are back at the keyboard.

    And that photo of the girl in the street advertising a restaurant !

    (I dreamt I was blogging and when I woke up I saw it was true. This is originally Churchill’s, about a session at the parliament)

  10. kimiam says:

    I hope you feel better soon!

  11. Abbe says:

    I see that the fever has made you delirious…but oh sooo incredibly funny!!!

    Hope you’re feeling better
    Abbe

  12. Elton Pacheco says:

    The love is that… crazy stuff. But I think I never loved anyone like that. Just flirting… lol

    Believed that?
    Hope you get any better soon!
    kisses

  13. cantueso says:

    It is wonderful that you threw it up, because a Madrid friend of mine was given that same medication. It made him feel horrible. He said it was like having nightmares all night long. I told him to discontinue, but since doctors can never be told that you acted against their instructions, I also told him to say that he had vomited. I was not sure whether that was believable.

    Thank you very much.

  14. @ rick: Glad you enjoyed– thanks!

    @ RM: Don’t even get me started on Josephine! She’s the one who stole Wally Cox away from me. I’ll never forgive her.

    @ Wendy: So many affairs, so little time. But this one was so intense, it’s as though it happened yesterday. And of course, Little Buddina is a constant reminder. She’s twenty-seven now, and she’s still asking, “When’s daddy coming home?” I just don’t have the heart to tell her the entire truth.

    @ Heather: Liberace really was a macho man. He used to lift sequin-studded weights. Two pounders, but still…

    @ Rain: Lawl! Go ahead. I’ll wait right here. More link love– thank you!!

    @ cantueso: I’m so sorry you’re still sick. I don’t know if we’ve got the same thing, but this is awful stuff. I hope you’re taking it easy, and taking care of yourself. I often dream about writing…I get very frustrated in my sleep when what I’m writing doesn’t make sense, or if there are a lot of typos. It wakes me up. Seriously.

    @ kimiam: Thanks– I hope so too!

    @ Abbe: Thanks! I think I am a little delirious. Ugh. Wish this was over. I’m sick of being sick.

    @ Elton: Hi! You’ve never had a love like this, because there’s never been a love like the one between Buddy and me. Thanks for the good wishes. I hope I feel better soon too! And no, I don’t believe you. :)

    @ cantueso: I think it’s great in that it’s so strong that it knocked a little of this out of me, but even though I quit taking it, I still can’t hold any food down. They say you’re never supposed to take a partial round of antibiotics, but no way am I taking any more of that! I think your advice to your friend was good. Hope you feel better soon.

  15. boundandgags says:

    Brilliant glimpse into the wacky ways of a wonton woman!

  16. gypsy-heart says:

    My dear…your meds are making you confess too much!! You should not tell such secrets until you are so damned old no one knows who in the hell you are talking abou or all the characters are dead!! Think of poor Buddina. :)

    I am afraid to read about Mr. Rogers…I don’t want you to destroy my fantasy!!

    I can tell that you are feeling a little better?

    Sendng you healing sunshine!

  17. vermonter says:

    so it’s YOU….for 24 years I have wondered…sorrowed and wondered…how ironic we should finally meet up…here…unarmed…& actually well disposed toward each other…oh the irony…or is it the coincidence? never mind….have a pop, tart.

    :o)

  18. thegirlfromtheghetto says:

    Ok, the picture of you with the sandwich sign is killing me!!!

  19. Adam says:

    Truly his loss. Imagine! Dumping you for that Palmolive floozie… tsk tsk.

  20. Little Brother McQueen says:

    Dear devoted readers I am so sorry for my sister’s delusional rantings. The truth is that this has nothing to do with her recent illness. It’s not that she took medication it’s that she’s off her medications. We tried to have her committed to a monestary but she never quite got over that whole “Jesus” thing that they required.

    I remember when she was 11 many, many years ago she swore she was having a “thing” with Superman. I’m not even sure she knew what a “thing” was but she insisted that he could do more than leap tall buildings though she did complain about the whole faster than a speeding bullet thing. It was really hard to refute that she was “finding herself” when she experimented with the Invisible Girl at 16.

    She graduated from comic book characters to television star characters in her early twenties insisting that Artimis Gordon was much wilder than James West and that Bobby and Jan made an interesting menage a trois.

    The final straw was when she insisted that Michael Jackson had sex with his chimp… oh wait that’s true. The final straw was when she insisted that Jimmy Carter was an insatiable love-god with a member of congress that required no lobbying.

    I love my sister dearly and I know you all find her amusing but I’m really concerned that this whole blogging thing is having a deleterious (I like that word) effect on her mental health. So please help me to help her by pointing out when she is not being logical and make sure that you remind her that Lobster Bisque is not kosher.

    Thank you for your support. I’ll leave the red light on for ya.

  21. You lucky, lucky girl. All I could snare was Bob Denver aka Gilligan and Ned Beatty.

    I’m addicted to your blog now. At least it’s not fattening or make me have murderous rages.

    I would like to add you to my blogroll if that’s OK with you. And, after I improve, I will come crawling on my knees and asked to be added to yours. RN, you have a very impressive and intimidating blogroll. MBMc…you play ball with the big guys.

    Lil’ Bro…your point is? Moonbeam did have all those affairs. She did “maka sexy time” with her famous amours. She wrote it and I read it while sitting on the sofa eating nachos with PeeWee Herman. PeeWee says that you are just jealous of Moonbeam. Maybe, you should go hit on Betty White.

  22. @ B&G: Thanks! It means a lot coming from you….seriously!

    @ gypsy-heart: When I’m old, I’ll be dishing the dirt on all the A-list celebrities I’ve been entangled with, because I’ll need the money that Enquirer will pay. And I shelter little Buddina from my blog. She couldn’t handle the truth.

    I am feeling better– thank you (and you should read the Mr. Rogers story when you have time. I think it’s much better)!

    @ vemonter: Why….why….oh, never mind. Time heals all wounds (passing you the box of Pop Tarts…Hey! I see Dog the Bounty Hunter in this one!).

    @ ghetto girl: :D

    @ Adam: Thank you. I concur, wholeheartedly.

    @ Little Brother McQueen: I’ll have to answer you at the end of all of these others. Grrrr….

    @ trailerparkbarbie: YOU were with Ned Beatty too?????

    I’m glad I’m helping you control your appetite and squelch your rages, if only for a little while. And anyone who defends me against my evil little brother gets added to my blogroll. He did hit on Betty White, and she wouldn’t have anything to do with him.

  23. @ Little Brother McQueen: First of all, I’m glad to see that they finally let you have computer time at the State you-know-where. I told you if you’d just stop taunting the other residents they’d give you more privileges. This means that they must have taken the straight jacket off too, since you’re able to type. Good for you! Last time I visited, it seemed that the restraints were chafing your delicate little wrists.

    Those who read this blog know that I am a beacon of logic, truthiness and questionable virtue. So give it up, bro. Give up your pathetic attempts to discredit me. It will never fly.

    And pish posh. I love lobster bisque, and all things porkified. You know I’m the one who makes Mom (who pretends not to know how to find my blog but secretly does and reads it avidly) cry.

    Do they let you stay up this late?

  24. romi41 says:

    HAHAHA (like so many times in this one!! :-) )

    Did I mention you know how to write the “hot stuff”??

    Like from the mention of him unwrapping you with his hungry eyes to his machismo wrapped in the body of sumo wrestler (LOL), to him sexily draped across the zebra skin bedspread….DAMN!!!!

    Seriously, I needed the laugh and the horniness (LMAO…)

    Thanks ;-)

  25. Narnie says:

    (are you feeling better now?)

    This was hilarious and although I don’t know most of the characters involved, your description brought them alive, haha. Fabulous stuff.

  26. CuriousC says:

    Bravo to Moonbeam and all inspired to comment! Very funny. I love it when they let Lil Bro comment!!!!

  27. boundandgags says:

    Lobster bisque is great. My girlfriend is on what I call Lobster Bisquest 2008.

  28. joanharvest says:

    Well, I don’t know what to say. You once again have me speechless. Buddy Hackett, who would have thought. I think I’m going to have to keep my affair with Dr. Kildare to myself. It was way too tawdry to describe. You young ones might not know who he is. I actually may have dreamed this affair. I can’t quite remember if it really happened.

    You tell a good story Moonbeam. Thanks for making laugh my still broken ass off.

  29. @ romi: Sigh…I’m still not thinking right. I was going to say that there is probably an untapped market for erotic stories featuring rotund B-list actors, but then I got fixated on the term “obestiality,” and I couldn’t think any more. Sigh….

    Since you’re on your manhunt these days, I think that you should definitely consider drawing from the vast numbers of big-name stars out there, like Jerrod on the Subway commercials, or whatshisface, the guy who looked like a terrorist in “Knocked Up.”

    @ narnie: (Quite a bit better, thank you)

    I should have written a companion guide for Europeans (and people under the age of 40) to go along with this, but these are all such megastars that I thought that people worldwide would be familiar with them.

    @ C: Noooo… don’t encourage Little Brother McQueen! He’s a hit and run commenter. He can dish it out, but can he take it? I don’t think so. Besides him, I love the comments that people leave. Funny and sweet!

    @ B&G: LOL! Is that like “Lobsterpalooza?”

    @ Joan: Dr. Kildare? Wow. I think you should write about that affair, and confess all. It really is good for the soul (and for us nosy readers of your blog). I’m thinking that I may just have to spill my guts about my escapades with Ernie on “My Three Sons,” but that may just be a little too pornographic for some readers. He was like an insatiable marmoset.

    I’m sorry your ass is still broken, but I’m glad I made you laugh.

  30. romi41 says:

    OMG the guy who looked like a terrorist in Knocked Up!!! LMAO…. :-) I love how much he got made fun of throughout that movie, and hey, I think you may be on to something with the B-list actor potential ;-)

    PS: Obestiality???? HOLY CRAP…haha :-)

  31. David says:

    Sorry I’m late. Lunar eclipse. Plus I’ve had to console one of your forgotten “conquests” …

    Stubby Kaye is FURIOUS that you chose not to mention him in your memoir! It’s likely that he won’t recover from this insult. He’s very fragile you know. NOW look what you’ve done! He’s been dead for over a decade! SHAME MMQ!

    AWESOME post and comments! GOD you are funny when you’re not thinking right. Hope you’re feeling better. Chuck all old prescriptions.

    In conclusion, for the record, Madge was portrayed by Tammy Faye Bakker’s (RIP Tammy Faye!) uncle. Yes, a man. Check the ears, hands, and, the genetically inherited false eyelashes.

  32. cantueso says:

    No, I was not very sick and did not have to take antibiotics. I had to take Augmentine last summer and did not have any trouble with it, but it did not work either. I used to work for a pharma company as a translator, and the way Augmentine became so popular overnight, almost a new household word overnight, would be really hard to explain in purely commercial terms. –

    Notice, too, how somebody came up with a *name*. Most pharma products have perfectly silly names to reflect the ingredients. Up to now the pharma industry has not had to worry about how they were going to advertise their thingies.

  33. @ David: Glad you made it through the whole eclipse thing. I honestly didn’t know that about Madge. I guess he/she tricked Buddy into playing for the other team. Another sad piece of the puzzle emerges, all these years later.

    I can’t even talk about Stubby. Let me just say that beneath that warm, sexy exterior was a man who made the proclivities of Dennis Hopper, Warren Beatty and Ray Walston seem almost pre-school by comparison.

    @ cantueso: Yay! You must be feeling better. Your translator job must have been interesting. I worked for the pharmaceutical industry for a while, and it’s a strange world. I believe that they name most of their medications not by ingredients but by sound. They’re just made up words, and they poll consumers to find the best-sounding one. They also do consumer surveys to see which marketing techniques will work best before they unleash their advertising campaigns. Then they charge $75 per pill and laugh all the way to the bank. Those CEOs make millions.

  34. David says:

    Yeah those pharmaceutical names are really fascinating. Wellbutrin and Abilify come to mind right now for some reason. I’ve always thought there should be a suicide pill called “Enditol”. Cheery, hmmm?

  35. @ David: LOL at “Enditol.”

  36. canadada says:

    And I always thought that Bob Barker was my daddy …
    gee, what you can learn with a little help from the net … THANKS.

  37. David says:

    You know that picture of Theda with Buddy’s face is really starting to wig me out. And Theda is starting to look like Cher to me. Maybe I should just take an Enditol and relax.

  38. @ canadada: I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I feel terrible!

    @ David: That is not Theda and Buddy. That child is the beautiful product of our love.

    Please, step away from the Enditol! Try a couple of Zone-Outs, or a Relaxalot.

  39. David says:

    2 15mg Relaxalots, STAT!

  40. Lil Brother McQueen says:

    Lil puny wrists?? I want you to know I spent years building up my wrists! Why I made sure I could lead with either hand just in case one got tired even though that never seemed to happen. Yes, I have talent!! You may be able to blog but I’m a universally acclaimed amberbater.

    But, whenever I amberbated it was at least to real fake people like Farah Fawcett, and all those Cosmopolitan models from the magazines that you used to leave around, my 7th grade art teacher Mrs. Whirley, our cousin…never mind you get the idea.

    Thank you for asking about my living situation things have improved quite a bit since they stopped the electro-shock therapy. It took them awhile to figure out that I could short out the alarm system for about two days after each treatment..

    Oh and to the weird reader who asked what the purpose of my comments was. Why is there a different standard for me than the rest of the people on this site including you dear sister? What is the purpose of any of this? You’re all just a bunch of overindulged self absorbed people with way too much time on your hands. What’s the purpose? Who needs a purpose? I’ve spent half my life looking for a purpose and I can tell you it’s really overrated. I don’t need no stinking purpose!

    Wow those anger management classes have really helped me not keep things all
    bottled up.

    Okay, well I’ll be going now dear sister you’ve all been great. Except that lady in Cleveland she really has smelly feet.

  41. @ Little Brother McQueen: So, I guess the “amberbation” explains why it took you two days to get back here. Wouldn’t that be “ambibation?” Our cousin? Which one? Phil? I’ve just learned more about you in this comment than I ever wanted or needed to know.

    Do not speak ill of the readers of this blog. You are a mean man. And I know you’re just trying to bait us (NOT ambibate). So, just go back to your shock treatments, mister.

    (Actually, I love you very much sweetie– I’m so proud of you.)

  42. gretakiki says:

    Here’s something you might be interested.

    http://doesthisblogmakeuslookfat.com/?p=115

    Incidentally, it’s how I found you ;)

  43. Deborah says:

    I don’t believe you at all about Jay Silverheels having any affair with you. I knew him and he was a Preacher/Medacine Man and so when was this suppose to have all happened?
    Why anyone would even want to show this side to their life is beyond me? And to wait this long to paint such a picture for Great People and One for yourself that is totally disgusting?
    You had better run a retraction on Jay Silverheels because he is my Granfather and I knew him personally and He was way to Religious to bother with the like of you! I will be having my Lawyers Contact you?
    Dee Jay Silverheels
    dubbylung@hotmail.com

  44. [...] was in response to this story, and it truly blew me away that someone could read it and not know that it was [...]

  45. Kat says:

    I loved Buddy Hackett when I was a young child. I was unaware of his death in 2003 until just yesterday. I was very shocked because I saw him at a Silent Film Festival in England 3-6 months ago (2008). If that was not him then he has a twin brother. I was shocked when I googled him yesterday and the posting said he died in his home and was creamated. How could this man that I recently saw NOT be Buddy Hackett? Especially since it was at a silent film festival with lots of the old black and white comedies? Truly shocking. That was DEFINITELY him. I don’t know what else to say. Is he alive? YES!

  46. Barbara says:

    This man’s wife had his baby… divine intervention is a strange thing:

    http://tinyurl.com/bmpvut

  47. This is the most brilliantly written comedy ever!

  48. Irene says:

    Oh, why isn’t this “Freshly Pressed”???? This was hysterical!

    Now I”m going to read about Mr. Rogers.

    Thanks, Irene! I think it’ll be my Monday rerun (still sick :( ).

  49. Kim Pugliano says:

    I think I just peed myself, but that often happens when I laugh violently and unexpectedly. I need to work on those Kegels more. Here is my favorite line:

    Dick Wilson, who insisted that, at all times, I refer to him as “Mr. Whipple.” In return, he called me Charmin, and he squeezed me constantly. He was a little kinky that way, but I adored him.

    I so badly want to BE you. Does that sound stalkerish? Stalkerly? Like a stalker?

    So be it.

    Oh, Kim, I promise– you do not want to be me (unless you want to be sick, impoverished and unemployed)! But I really appreciate your stalkeriness.

    Your comments probably made me laugh as hard as the story did for you. Especially the Kegel line.

  50. Ah, I remember this post from way-back-when. I love you are using this one over again. The writing is great, but those photos just kill me.

    Sigh…I miss having PhotoShop.

  51. Romi says:

    “At first he denied it, and said that he’d bought the nail file for me, that the claw marks on his back had drawn so much blood that he’d become anemic”

    Hahaha…your humour is timeless ;-)

    Hope all is well Moonbeam!

    xoxo

    Oh, Romalita, I am so happy when you stop by here. On my (extraordinarily long) list of things to do is to catch up on all of the action on your blog. I love it and miss it. I think I got confused in there somewhere between your book publishing and your blogs. I have to sort it all out and get the scoop soon!

  52. Pat . says:

    I hope you are better soon.
    This has some very funny lines, and whole concept is very funny. But, a part of me is saying that you shouldn’t be funny at the expense of other people, living or dead. Of course, another part of me is laughing…

    Thank you, Pat. I’m working on getting well. This illness is hanging on way too long.

    You know, one of the very few guidelines I use when I write, is that I ask myself if I’m coming at it from a good place– that is, if there’s any mean-spiritedness involved. If the answer is yes, I usually don’t publish. I’m sure I’ve failed sometimes, in the heat of the moment, but I promise that this is not one of those pieces. In fact, I’m thinking that Buddy and company would have liked it. Sort of impossible to ask for verification, but I really don’t share your view on this one (I hope we can agree to disagree). Still, as always, I appreciate your feedback, and genuinely value your opinion.

  53. Vodka and Ground Beef says:

    I would never open my heart to love again if I’d been left at the altar by one of my idols and heroes, Liberace.

    You’re so brave MM.

    Wow, VGB. I had the biggest crush on Liberace, but I knew I just wasn’t enough woman for him. I’ll bet you could’ve tamed him. In fact, I’m certain of it.

  54. markp427 says:

    I applaud you for the affairs you have had, and yet, mourn the ones that never occurred. Desi Arnaz, Tony Mathers, Howard Hughes. Oh, what could have been…

    Thank you, Mark. I feel the exact same way. So many stars, so little time.

  55. Pat . says:

    Certainly we can “agree to disagree”. As I said, I am in two minds about this one, but if you think Buddy would have liked it, then who am I to disagree – after all, you knew him well!

    Yes, I did- and you should read what he wrote about me! :P

  56. Pat . says:

    P.S. Is it “un-cool” to click the “like” button? You have about 50 comments from people who clearly like it, but I am the only one to say it with a click – what gives?

    Oh no, Pat. It is very, very cool– in fact it’s extraordinarily cool to use the “like” button. I just don’t think that feature existed on WordPress when I originally posted the story. Thank you for clicking!

Comments Are Golden

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s