It’s been years since I did a dead celebrity list, so this one I’m doing early before any more bodies pile up.
Judy Carne died. She was the little loksh on “Laugh-in,” who got a frosk in pisk every time she said, “Sock it to me.” That you call a career? She did.
To Burt Reynolds she was married for ten minutes, but, hoo boy, everybody and their brother knew he slapped her around whether she wanted it or not. Then he canoodled with Dinah Shore after she dumped her husband, the putz George Montgomery, who dressed like the paper towel lumberjack. (Brawny?)
Later Burt Reynolds cavorted with Sally Field and then married Loni Anderson. They still look good, those two. But him? Like The Crypt Keeper with acid reflux.
Jean Nideth died. 91 she was. Jean lived in Queens, not too far from Selma M. (Selma’s full name I’m not giving because she’s still alive and reads everything). Selma, she had a weight problem. Plain talk: she looked like she was smuggling kugel in her pants. But in four months, she went from muumuus back to pedal pushers when she lost 20 pounds.
Her secret? She and her nextdoorekeh went to Jean Nideth’s house for diet tips. Long story short, Jean Nideth invented Weight Watchers and sold the company later to Heinz for $71 million. That was before John Heinz died and left his fortune to the wife Teresa Heinz, who married John Kerry, who would have been president if he didn’t look like the golem on "The Addams Family."
Ten years after selling Weight Watchers, Jean Nideth was flat broke and said: “Eh, The Lord giveth, and the croupier taketh away. Let’s nosh, girls!”
Yogi Berra died at 90. A real mensch he was. Everybody liked the man. My grandson Todd’s favorite quotes: “The towels were so thick there I could hardly close my suitcase.” And when Yogi’s wife asked him where he wanted to be buried, he said, “I don’t know. Surprise me.”