Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Photograph by Marissa Roth
My friend Phil Proctor (yeah, the Firesign Theater guy- that's right- I know him!) reminded me through his cool website Planet Proctor that the great Ray Bradbury turned ninety on the 22nd of August.
Mr. Bradbury, who splits his time living in Los Angeles and a nice cottage on Mars is still very much with us, lucky for all of us.
No need to go into my theory of longevity equaling genius (you know who you were, Eubie Blake, Alfred True and George Bernard Shaw), because of course Ray Bradbury is a genius, at least in my book, even though I've never written a book. Mr. Bradbury, however, has written many books, fifty- nine in fact, according to his website.
From the time Mr. Sofield first read us a Bradbury short story in seventh grade on a Friday afternoon to the time I read adaptations from The Martian Chronicles in old EC comics reprints, to inhaling story after story throughout the remainder of my life so far, I've known that here was a class act, a great humanist utilizing science fiction as his platform, but really telling us something noble about ourselves if we were just willing to listen.
Finally, let me leave you with this beautiful and heartfelt tribute to Mr. Bradbury, also discovered for me by my very good friend Phil Proctor (really- we had dinner in L. A. and I met Esther Williams that same night, as well as the guy who played the gunsel in Key Largo, Harry Lewis, who still looks like a gunsel, albeit much older).
It's called Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury, so if the word "fuck" disturbs you, even used correctly as it is here, well then, don't watch it.