A tribute to the late, great, Aaron Spelling from both myself (M) and my co-blogger (T).

A good man has shuffled off his mortal coil this week. So today is officially Aaron Spelling Tribute Day!

Next time you make a reference to Tattoo yelling at some plane, think of this man. For he was the one who put that reference in your mind. Hats off to Aaron Spelling today and flags at half mast. Our leader of campy TV and cleavage has died. No more car chases. No more gun toting chicks with their tits hanging out. No more midget asking if he was doing "okay" to his boss.

The car has broken down. The chicks have buttoned up their shirts and put their guns away. The midget has gone home.

Aaron Spelling
April 22, 1923 - June 23, 2006

What to say about this man? A truly nice man who grew up telling stories so as not to get his ass beat walking home from school everyday. Sure, it's nothing that I would have done, but since he was a multi-millionare and I am just a scarred-up punk rocker. I am gonna say maybe talking instead of fighting was a better way to do this thing called life.

I don't know.

All I know is this man's motto in life was that if someone came up to talk to him he would stop and listen. 'Cause they were the ones who made him who he was. And they deserve his attention.

But anyways. Today I am gonna pay tribute to my favorite show of his.

Beverly Hills 90120

Or was it 90210....

Always got that mixed up. I loved this show. I was in college when this show started. And yes, community college is still college, thank you very much. Actually, that might not be true. But anyways, I started watching this when I was in college. Oh yeah. Party on turtle. But really. It was on at like 8 on Tuesdays. We would sit around each night and wait for the sun to come up 'til that one day of the week it came on. That damn intro song made everyone run to the fridge to grab two more beers 'cause this might be the one Donna gets some. C'mon, Donna give it up this time. C'mon. Donna. This virginity thing was overrated. C'mon, Donna. Spread those legs for David. I'm running out of beer and it looks like he is about to blow a gasket if he doesn't get some sweet lovin' soon.

Dylan. Rebel-hard and smooth. Alcoholic who had stolen the heart of Brenda. A man who lived what he spoke. When he said a man doesn't talk about his sexual conquests, I kinda had to look at myself and ask myself if I was a man. His sex might have been dull if he didn't want to talk about it. For me it was like "Hey dude! She can put her ankles behind her back!" Yeah, I'm a pig, I know. But Dylan stuck to his word. He had stopped drinking before 15. He was cool as ice. I never really understood how you could become a problem drinker before 25. I mean, I drank since 12, but I never had any realization that I had a problem til 29 or 30. He caught it right away. He had a problem. Vodka in little bottles, Brenda, and his attitude. That was what would do him in.