Doing a bit of research on a project that will likely not bear fruit (olives, in this case), and learned that Ian Fleming, author of the James Bond novels, died at age 56 after reportedly drinking a fifth of gin and smoking 75 cigarettes a day (triple-band Morley’s, of course).
We can’t all be Keith Richards.
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About Steve Patterson
Steve Patterson has written over 50 plays, with works staged in Portland, Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, Austin, Tampa, and other U.S. cities as well as in Canada and New Zealand.
His works include: Waiting on Sean Flynn, Next of Kin, Farmhouse, Malaria, Shelter, Altered States of America, The Continuing Adventures of Mr. Grandamnus, Bluer Than Midnight, Bombardment, Dead of Winter, and Delusion of Darkness.
In 2006, his bittersweet Lost Wavelengths was a mainstage selection at Portland Center Stage's JAW/West festival, and, in 2008, won the Oregon Book Award (he also was an OBA finalist in 1992 and 2002). In 1997, he won the inaugural Portland Civic Theatre Guild Fellowship for his play Turquoise and Obsidian.
View all posts by Steve Patterson
December 4th, 2007 at 9:27 pm
Whatever… I do that every day at lunch. Pantywaist… 🙂
December 5th, 2007 at 12:00 am
Yeah…but he was English. Come on.
December 5th, 2007 at 2:48 am
So is Keith Richards, and he’s still alive. You come on!
December 5th, 2007 at 3:25 am
Yes, but I suppose the difference between Keith and Ian, you, and me is that the three of us are human.
December 5th, 2007 at 5:44 am
(sigh) True. I concede the point. Keith Richards is a demigod.
December 5th, 2007 at 4:40 pm
And we don’t have a fabulous house in Jamaica to retire to. Keith probably does, but he’d rather hang out in a coconut tree than “Goldeneye.”
December 5th, 2007 at 7:31 pm
Correction: Fleming actually smoked Moreland cigarettes, a specialty brand blended of three tobaccos (hence the triple band). Ironically enough, Morley’s was the fictious brand that “Cancer Man” smoked in The X-Files.