This Day in Death

9.27.12: Herbert Lom of “The Pink Panther” Film Series – DEAD!

Filed under: Uncategorized —James @ 5:10 pm October 1, 2012

“And I’M telling YOU: Kitty cats are WAY cuter than puppy dogs!”


Herbert Lom, best known for playing Chief Inspector Dreyfus in the original Pink Panther film series, died on Thursday at the age of 95. Well, maybe if they didn’t put that fuck-up Clouseau on every goddamn case he wouldn’t have been so stressed out all the time. Christ, stop hiring that guy, you know he’s gonna do something stupid. He does EVERY SINGLE TIME. This is really starting to bother me on a personal level.

Onstage, Mr. Lom originated the role of the king in the original London cast of the musical “The King and I” in 1955. On television, he appeared in the British series “The Human Jungle” in 1963 and 1964 and on “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.” in 1967.

Hey! He was also a serious stage actor, just like you swore you were gonna be back in high school! I mean, you know, before you graduated and realized that it was going to be hard to balance school and work and your boyfriend *and* pursuing an acting career, so you decided to take a little time off to clear your head. Then, when you had your first child you figured that the acting career would have to be put on hold for just a couple years, while you worked your way up the ladder at Barnes & Noble and got your footing as a parent. School was going to be way too tough to find room for, but that’s okay. An actor doesn’t need a college degree, and this will make sure you have some extra time for auditions and rehearsals once you land that first real role, and then you can finally move out of this go-nowhere town. Then, around the time of your second child (which was met with significantly less enthusiasm from your friends for some reason), as you entered your late 20s, your looks started to go and guys on the street stopped looking at you so much and you found yourself surprised by how much you needed that shallow validation. Sadly, you realized you should’ve spent more time learning some legitimate skills instead of preening about your appearance so much, and that you’re just not sure how you function in the world without others constantly asserting how talented you are like they used to. You began to wonder if all of those flattering things people used to tell your younger self were true at all. What *are* you in this world, anyway? Do you serve a function, do you even matter in any valid way? Would the world be even a hair different if you were dead, if your whole family just… ceased to exist one dark night? So you updated your Facebook profile with baby pictures and posted about how your life is turning out so wonderfully and waited for the “like”s to come rolling in, because that always helped. For a little while, at least. When you finally bought the gun it wasn’t that you thought you’d ever use it, you just liked feeling like you were in *control* of something for once. But when you walked the empty hallways of your suburban 3-bedroom home in the middle of the night, unable to sleep from the vague existential tugging you didn’t want to tell anyone about and that you couldn’t even seem to articulate anyway (should’ve developed a deeper grasp of language, dammit), it just felt so right in your hands. And then, one night, as tears fell down and splattered on the cold steel resting in your mouth, and you’d resigned yourself to the fact that you had been born nothing and somehow had become infinitely less, you finally accepted the truth; That the only warmth you’d ever truly felt in your life was nothing but the hot, stale breath of Death on the nape of your neck, waiting patiently for as long as it took for you to turn around and come crawling into His endless arms of despair and ultimate release. But, you know, before all that you thought it would be fun to be an actor.

Source: The NY Times

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