And angels sing thee to thy rest

Good luck, Michael Jackson fans. If you think you're going to get in to his spot at Forest Lawn Glendale I've got a little story for you.

I was a regular at Forest Lawn back when I was a kid (or after I was old enough to drive, but not old as I am now). I would go every month and hang out with Spencer Tracy and Alan Ladd and smoke cigarettes with Errol Flynn.

(Photo from seeing-stars.com)

It was nice. No one seemed to mind my being there and I always brought them daisies because daisies are kind of simple and sweet and less showy than roses. I couldn't afford roses in any case.

Once I was there with friends and we went into the Great Mausoleum with the sincere intention of paying a visit to my hero, Irving Thalberg (okay, you people in my dish about him cutting Greed need to lay off -- it's a complicated story and von Stroheim was mad. A genius, sure, but barking mad)(but I digress). We went in, sat through the entire Last Supper stained-glass window presentation (here's how it looks at sunrise ... now, sunset ...) about how the glass came from Italy piece-by-piece la la la. We get up, after respectfully offering this tribute of attention, and walk over to the Sanctuary of Benediction --- not to go in it, mind, just to lay our daisies at the gate --- and a guard was on us like THAT. No, no, no, he says. You have to go now. It's not allowed.

Paying your respects is not allowed at Forest Lawn Glendale. Remember that.

So, while I don't begrudge the famous a little peace in the end, it kind of sucks to get turned away when you're on a sincere mission of adoration. However, at Hollywood Memorial Park (or whatever it's called now) you can lie on top of Tyrone Power without a hassle. That's all I'm sayin'.