Subscribe via feed.

R.I.P., Manchester Midget

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter on March 4, 2012 – 6:28 am

I know that I’ve rarely mentioned it online, it’s not exactly from a “cool” phase of my life, but back when I was a 300-lb. 18 & 19-year-old dork with no friends (a few class “buds” @ that useless party-school “university,” but no one truly close, at least not anybody who’d be seen with me out in public…), I was a fanatical follower of the reunion tours & VH1 reruns of the original sit-com of The Monkees. When I was 3 & 4 years old, I distinctly remember watching those reruns (not many details, except that Moose Knuckle & Psycho-Cunt were INSANELY besotted with Daaaaaavyyyyy, and that it always pissed me off that they {producers/writers/etc.} always made Peter play “The Dummy”) with said felonious so-called “sisters” every afternoon when they got home from elementary school.

I missed the FIRST reunion tours, in ’86 & ’87, having just nearly died because of those cut brakes, having to acclimate to having lost 40 IQ points or more from the same wreck/closed-head injury, and finding something akin to a similar “soul” in Sam Kinison’s bitterness about “the church,” as I was coming out of that cult myself at the same time.  So the Monkees’ original reunions, including the shows graced by the presence of Himself, that “xian scientist” freak who nearly murdered his first wife (he was my other Favorite, until a certain Joanne on FaceBook told me the very bad shit that Maggie MacManus covered-up SO fucking well for 30-some-odd years…  *sigh*), the Texan (and aren’t they always so VOCAL about where they’re from?!?!?) who got the lion’s share of the publishing rights to their songs, aside from Boyce & Hart and Neil Diamond, those tours, I missed.  I did later get to see a xeroxed copy of Peter’s infamous Red Speedo picture (some chick climbed over the fence @ his hotel pool in ’88 or ’89, something that even I wouldn’t do! –  and got a VERY revealing photo), but that’s all I know from those tours, except that my fat ass SHOULD have been at the Greek Theatre in L.A. when Himself deigned to bless them all with His presence.  Bitter?  Moi?  Blame it on Joanne. I coulda lived my whole life without that information.

But as I’m sure that all of y’all well know, it’s the baby of the group who dropped dead, suddenly and bizarrely on Leap Day, Feb. 29th, at his home in Florida (retaining political commentary about THAT until later).  For some fucked-up reason, every MSM/news outlet on earth is giving his age as SIXTY-SIX, which is horseshit, because he was THREE MONTHS YOUNGER THAN THE FALLEN UTERUS, who was born in 1946. He was 65. Unless, of course, he, Micky, Peter, Columbia, Screen Gems, Sony et al., have been lying this whole fucking time.  Wouldn’t surprise me, but the sudden revelation of his alleged “true” age now is beyond hinky.  Sorry that I can’t remember his exact birth date (he & Mike are both December births, one of them was on Xmas day, but I can’t recall at the moment which one was the xmas baby), but I do remember the year.  Peter’s 70, Mike will be in December, and Micky’s 68.

Davy was never my favorite, but he was a huge part of the group and of its success, and for the show, as well, obviously.  My condolences to his ex-wives, his new wife, and his many children, and especially to Peter & Micky.  I couldn’t prove it in court, but I think that Peter & Davy were the only ones of the group who maintained life-long true friendships, even after Peter was the first one to tell Screen Gems to go fuck itself after the second season.

I almost made the mistake of linking to a TMZ online post about Davy, until I found their recent post of THE MOTHERFUCKING 911 CALL WHEN HE WAS HAVING THE FUCKING HEART ATTACK. I’ve always loathed that midget shyster/shylock piece of shit Harvey Levin, but now I despise him to the 800th power.  It was pretty fucking horrific that he posted Rihanna’s evidenciary photos from when that closet-case Chris Brown beat the fuck out of her, but at least THAT served some sort of PURPOSE and showed the world that it wasn’t just “some bitch trying to ruin a MAN’S career,” as many said at the time. 

TO OBTAIN AND FLOUT THE 911 CALL OF DAVY DYING OF A FUCKING HEART ATTACK SERVES NO FUCKING PURPOSE EXCEPT TO MAKE EVEN MORE FUCKING MONEY FOR HARVEY SOULLESS-COCKSUCKING-HYPOCRITE-PSEUDO-VEGAN, PETA-SUCKLING COCKBITE LEVIN, LIKE HE FUCKING NEEDS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you Harvey Levin, sideways with a rusty chainsaw, and no, standing on a box to see over the cubicle walls won’t protect you from it.

You just don’t do that shit to a dead man AND his grieving family & friends, you piece of shit.

And thusly I conclude this shoulda-been-a-tribute, but greedy motherfuckers hadda fuck THAT up, too.  The only consolation in all of this is that Antenna TV (yes, another SONY holding, like CBS, Columbia, Screen Gems, Infinity Radio, etc.), who have been MUTILATING the sitcom reruns (they cut off all of the outtakes & backstage interviews that were originally part of most episodes; Sony isn’t making ENOUGH money off of ‘em, they gotta kill the real-life shit to squeeze-in MORE fucking commercials for DEATH INSURANCE!!!!!!), recently (about a month ago) hired the best-ever “Voice Guy,” as in “THE Voice” for hundreds of radio stations & TV stations all over the fucking world, John Wells, who was The Voice @ my 1st radio station.  I’m still pissed that Ferguson got rid of John and hired fuckin’ Shadoe instead, but such is life.  Anyway, for the episodic marathon of Monkees shows all day today, tonight and undoubtedly the rest of Sunday, it’s John Wells paying tribute to Davy on the “station ID” breaks and segues from commercials to episodes.  I can’t imagine a more comforting voice than the biggest pipes to ever grace the Metroplex.  I still miss talking to his mama on the phone, she always wanted me to come to Dallas and go to work for John, but John didn’t appear to share that concept.  I’ll still always love that voice, though.  I was the first person on that first station to have my own John Wells-voiced sweeper (his engineers had a blast with it, too!), and I’ll always be damned proud of that.

But Davy, Manchester Midget, and the poor man who was accosted by a 5’9.5″, 300-lb. sweaty woman in a “Save The Texas Prairie Chicken” t-shirt and still TRIED not to look terrified in the picture, you will be missed.  And if Julie Newmar & Ursula Andress are still alive, they’d damned well better be at the fuckin’ funeral!

(I tried to find said picture on this computer, couldn’t, but if any of y’all have copies of it, please e-mail it to me, please?)

EDIT: Skip that link up top, (“Daaaavyyyyy”), those Canadian fetuses TOTALLY fucked-up every “fact” and date in the entire article.  Fuck, they’ve been around for 46 fucking years, couldn’t the MSM get this shit straight FINALLY?!?!?!!?


This post is under “Uncategorized” and has 2 respond so far.
If you enjoy this article, make sure you subscribe to my RSS Feed.

2 Responds so far- Add one»

  1. 1. Terrible Said:

    I don’t think I’ve seen any of the shows since the original run on Sat mornings in the 60′s. But do remember it was one of the favorite Sat morning shows.

  2. 2. Anntichrist S Coulter Said:

    Y’know what’s weird, Ted? 3 or 4 days before Davy croaked, a chick (a couple years younger than me -ish) on one of the newer sitcoms (nope, honestly don’t remember which one) was “dancing,” and I can’t remember the first “move” she did, but the second one, she started doing that pre-snake move from the video for “Daydream Believer” on the rainbow-striped set (I say “pre-snake” b/c of Axl patenting “the snake” move behind a mic stand so that people could see his skinny ass back then) and said, “Ooh! How about a little Davy Jones?”, fade out laugh track to credits.

    Yup, story of my life: endless font of useless trivia and random information that’ll never get me a job.

Post a reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.