The December before John Lennon was assassinated outside the Dakota where he lived in New York City, legendary record producer George Martin joined him for dinner at the former Beatle’s apartment. Martin, who died a decade ago, quoted Lennon as saying at that gathering, “ ‘You know George, if I could, I would record everything the Beatles did all over again.’ I blanched. ‘Blimey, John, rather you than me. Everything?’ He said, ‘Everything.’ I searched my mind for all the wond

David Sherman Robert Redford never died. He’ll forever be the guy with the carefully dishevelled blond hair, the killer smile, the guy you wanna have a beer with, the shoes of whom the ladies, as my dear departed mother would’ve said, would like to find under their bed. Brad Pitt will never die. One wag called him the last of the great film stars. He also doesn’t age, doesn’t take life too seriously, has a great body to go with the face, a body he proudly shows off in Taranti

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good. Stop the clocks if they can be stopped, though I know they cannot, because the clock upon the mantel continues even now, marking out the hours she will never see and I will never cease measuring against her absence, and cut the telephone wires and let them hang slack in the weather, and silence the dog because there was a time when it would rise at the sound of her footsteps upon the porch a