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« Racism Rears Ugly Head in Beantown | Main | The Gospel According to Bukowski--On Death »


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See, you ought to tune in more often. You never know what's going to be happening. One day you're no one; the next day you're a star.


Of the few times I've looked at this blog, it turns out I was there for this particular romp.

Yes, we did have lunch not more than 5' from that little, little, little man (he got way too much joy from berating the staff).

I'm not exactly sure what "Emmanuel's" beef was, but I've never seen anyone so upset over ketchup.

Ketchup? Yes, seriously, that's what he was harping on. I don't get it either.

In hindsight I should have slapped him, but next time I'll just palm that little head like he deserves.



Yes but aren't you happy to know the story now?


I had to ask, didn't I?


That damn Emmanuel. He always did try to steal Gary's thunder.

Igmar Fillipé

I had a very similar experience at my lunch with Gary Coleman. He became very irate when I kept calling him Arnold. Only later did I realize that I was actually having lunch with Emmanuel Lewis. Later still, I discovered I was drunk and had dreamt the whole thing. My drinking buddy then recounted that after I passed out, I kept repeating, “Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Mr. Papadapolis?”


Don't tell me you never sang along with the theme song. The Jefferson's was another goodin'


At least I stuck to watching such sitcoms like Bosom Buddies and Three's Company! Diff'rent Strokes? C'mon Joe, who'd admit that???


Semantics. Let's not split hairs CB.


So you really didn't have lunch with him. You just had lunch in the same room as him.

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