Kirk Douglas will be 100 on December 9th. When he was born, radio was in its infancy and so was King Tut. Doesn’t he know his time has come…and gone? Kirk buddy, there are no more Oscars for you. No one is going to throw you roses anymore; just orchids. At least your chum Burt Lancaster had the good sense to exit the stage at 80. But you, my friend, don’t seem to want to take that direction – and you call yourself a “Directors actor.” Phooey. What can we do to get you an epitaph? I’m not encouraging you to die exactly, it’s just that I suffer from an OCD and I need to put you in a category whereby you can only make underground movies – 6 feet and underground movies.
You were old when I was born 55 years ago and your dimpled-chin presence unnerves me to this day. Your son Michael I get. He’s from my generation. If Tom Brokaw wrote a book about yours it would be called “The Sootiest Generation.” Weren’t you a character in several Charles Dickens’ novels? Paul Newman, Marlon Brando and most of the Bee Gees have passed on. Can’t you take a hint and quietly exit stage left? Why are you still hanging around? There will be no Spartacus 2.
How many lives do you have? You survived a mid-air helicopter crash in 1991, a paralytic stroke in 1996 and the box office poison of 1969’s “The Arrangement.” Get on with your life Kirk Douglas (birth name Issur Danielovitch). You’re now eating into the years reserved for your next reincarnation to such a degree that when you’re born again you’re going to be 14 years old already. Which sounds like a brilliant premise for a movie starring the reincarnated Kirk Douglas. But it’ll only work if you’re 16 or less. So wrap it up. Kiss your lovely wife of 60+ years good night and break on through to the other side so I can finally have some peace of mind. I mean although you’ll be the one dying, this isn’t about you. It’s about me David Hardiman (also born Issur Danielovitch)
We’ve appreciated your stellar efforts: philanthropy running into tens of millions, the entertaining movies and books, your work ethic, your ability to overcome grinding poverty and your generally indomitable spirit. You’re practically 100 and you’re still making me look bad. At this rate you’re going to outlive your talented son Michael who has somehow managed to survive both esophageal cancer and Catherine Zeta-Jones.
So it is with loving humor and absolute insincerity that I implore you Kirk: “Do not go gentle into that good night.” No, go into that good night as quickly and noisily as you need to. The point is – Get your ass into that good night soon, so I can finally have some peace. I know you may not understand my request. However could you think of me just once for a change; despite the fact you have no idea who I am and will probably never read this. Meanwhile I thank you for living an examined and exemplary life, and when you get to that big studio in the sky, say hello to Burt.
Now that I’ve given Kirk his marching orders and resolved that decades old issue, I can turn my attention to another worthy obsession. Does anyone know if Doris Day is still alive? And what about that damn Judi Dench? I mean that Dame Judi Dench.