My dear friend, we were so blessed to have you, even for so absurdly short a time. Now you’re in Heaven, where it’s Movie Night every night. In heartbroken tribute, through a blur of tears, I offer these lyrics, (re)written years ago, which are how I will always remember you. I love you, man.
Addendum: At least you lived long enough to see your beloved (yes I use that word with tearful irony) Chiefs win the Super Bowl. At the time I probably said something about how you could then die happy. Now I wish my tongue had been torn out by the roots rather than suggest such a thing even in jest.
“The Host with the Most”
(Lennon/McCartney/Bradley)
Night after night, alone in his flat
The man with the wall of hats is talking just to his cat
But once in a while they join him
For the fun and the films and food
And he never lets them help him
But the host with the most
Sees his friends coming ‘round
And the candles are lit
When the sun’s going down
Kaiju and gore, presented with pride
The man of a thousand movies keeps him amply supplied
But don’t ask about Blake Edwards
Or the films he appears to hate
And he never seems to show them
But the host with the most
Sees his friends coming ‘round
And the candles are lit
When the sun’s going down
And he always serves your favorites
He just does what he wants to do
And he doesn’t charge admission
But the host with the most
Sees his friends coming ‘round
And the candles are lit
When the sun’s going down
He doesn’t go for breakfast
Or send you on your way
He just sleeps in
The host with the most
Sees his friends coming ‘round
And the candles are lit
When the sun’s going down
Tom…
BRADLEY ON FILM 