Dean Martin Quotes

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.

Have you ever been to Colorado?" I frowned. "Is that one of those square ones, in the middle?

You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.

If you drink, don’t drive. Don’t even putt.

I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favorite--the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian. The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out.

You don't notice the dead leaving when they really choose to leave you. You're not meant to. At most you feel them as a whisper or the wave of a whisper undulating down. I would compare it to a woman in the back of a lecture hall or theater whom no one notices until she slips out.Then only those near the door themselves, like Grandma Lynn, notice; to the rest it is like an unexplained breeze in a closed room. Grandma Lynn died several years later, but I have yet to see her here. I imagine her tying it on in her heaven, drinking mint juleps with Tennessee Williams and Dean Martin. She'll be here in her own sweet time, I'm sure. If I'm to be honest with you, I still sneak away to watch my family sometimes. I can't help it, and sometimes they still think of me. They can't help it.... It was a suprise to everyone when Lindsey found out she was pregnant...My father dreamed that one day he might teach another child to love ships in bottles. He knew there would be both sadness and joy in it; that it would always hold an echo of me. I would like to tell you that it is beautiful here, that I am, and you will one day be, forever safe. But this heaven is not about safety just as, in its graciousness, it isn't about gritty reality. We have fun. We do things that leave humans stumped and grateful, like Buckley's garden coming up one year, all of its crazy jumble of plants blooming all at once. I did that for my mother who, having stayed, found herself facing the yard again. Marvel was what she did at all the flowers and herbs and budding weeds. Marveling was what she mostly did after she came back- at the twists life took. And my parents gave my leftover possessions to the Goodwill, along with Grandma Lynn's things. They kept sharing when they felt me. Being together, thinking and talking about the dead, became a perfectly normal part of their life. And I listened to my brother, Buckley, as he beat the drums. Ray became Dr. Singh... And he had more and more moments that he chose not to disbelieve. Even if surrounding him were the serious surgeons and scientists who ruled over a world of black and white, he maintained this possibility: that the ushering strangers that sometimes appeared to the dying were not the results of strokes, that he had called Ruth by my name, and that he had, indeed, made love to me. If he ever doubted, he called Ruth. Ruth, who graduated from a closet to a closet-sized studio on the Lower East Side. Ruth, who was still trying to find a way to write down whom she saw and what she had experienced. Ruth, who wanted everyone to believe what she knew: that the dead truly talk to us, that in the air between the living, spirits bob and weave and laugh with us. They are the oxygen we breathe. Now I am in the place I call this wide wide Heaven because it includes all my simplest desires but also the most humble and grand. The word my grandfather uses is comfort. So there are cakes and pillows and colors galore, but underneath this more obvious patchwork quilt are places like a quiet room where you can go and hold someone's hand and not have to say anything. Give no story. Make no claim. Where you can live at the edge of your skin for as long as you wish. This wide wide Heaven is about flathead nails and the soft down of new leaves, wide roller coaster rides and escaped marbles that fall then hang then take you somewhere you could never have imagined in your small-heaven dreams.

I’d hate to be a teetotaler. Imagine getting up in the morning and knowing that’s as good as you’re going to feel all day.

The reason I drink is because when I'm sober I think I'm Eddie Fisher.

I liked old time music but what i meant by that was the period from the 1930s through the 60s, nothing before and little after.  Performers like fats waller, Sinatra, billie holiday, louis armstrong, rosemary clooney, ella, sammy Davis Jr, dean martin... If the lyrics weren't stupid. Words were important.

…there was a saying that Marlon Brando changed the way actors acted, James Dean changed the way people lived. I believe that.

Dean Martin growled at me, as if in agreement. I was going to say something else but trying to work out which of his eyes was actually looking at me was weirdly distracting.

I would rather have a free bottle in front of me than a pre-frontal lobotomy

I defy anyone to think of the name Dean Martin and not smile. Now, that's amore.

I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron’s favorite—the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.

I want to be remembered as a damn good entertainer, nothing spectacular. A good entertainer who made people enjoy themselves and made them laugh a little. I want them to think “He was a nice guy. He did pretty good and we loved him".

Не си пиян, ако можеш да лежиш на пода без да се държиш

I wasn't the only one who wished he was around more.... The trade-off we had to be content with was that our dad was Dean Martin.

And then there was the sad sign that a young woman working at a Tim Hortons in Lethbridge, Alberta, taped to the drive-through window in 2007. It read, “No Drunk Natives.” Accusations of racism erupted, Tim Hortons assured everyone that their coffee shops were not centres for bigotry, but what was most interesting was the public response. For as many people who called in to radio shows or wrote letters to the Lethbridge Herald to voice their outrage over the sign, there were almost as many who expressed their support for the sentiment. The young woman who posted the sign said it had just been a joke. Now, I’ll be the first to say that drunks are a problem. But I lived in Lethbridge for ten years, and I can tell you with as much neutrality as I can muster that there were many more White drunks stumbling out of the bars on Friday and Saturday nights than there were Native drunks. It’s just that in North America, White drunks tend to be invisible, whereas people of colour who drink to excess are not. Actually, White drunks are not just invisible, they can also be amusing. Remember how much fun it was to watch Dean Martin, Red Skelton, W. C. Fields, John Wayne, John Barrymore, Ernie Kovacs, James Stewart, and Marilyn Monroe play drunks on the screen and sometimes in real life? Or Jodie Marsh, Paris Hilton, Cheryl Tweedy, Britney Spears, and the late Anna Nicole Smith, just to mention a few from my daughter’s generation. And let’s not forget some of our politicians and persons of power who control the fates of nations: Winston Churchill, John A. Macdonald, Boris Yeltsin, George Bush, Daniel Patrick Moynihan. Hard drinkers, every one. The somewhat uncomfortable point I’m making is that we don’t seem to mind our White drunks. They’re no big deal so long as they’re not driving. But if they are driving drunk, as have Canada’s coffee king Tim Horton, the ex-premier of Alberta Ralph Klein, actors Kiefer Sutherland and Mel Gibson, Super Bowl star Lawyer Milloy, or the Toronto Maple Leafs’ Mark Bell, we just hope that they don’t hurt themselves. Or others. More to the point, they get to make their mistakes as individuals and not as representatives of an entire race.

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. They wake up in the morning and that's the best they're going to feel all day.

When asked if she would accept his affairs to try to keep her marriage, she commented, "I do. I think that speaks for itself.

He's a man's man and I like that about him.

Dad once asked me, "Oh Deana, baby, who'd want to steal from me?" Well, Dad, the answer is everyone.

How long have I been on?

To know Dad was to love him... He was the sun and the moon to those fortunate enough to have been in his orbit. Underneath that polished Hollywood veneer beat the heart of a man who came from an industrial engine of steel mills and sweat - from hard-working, wholesome people... Dad adored his wives and doted on his many children, who gladly reciprocated that affection.

Was he a good father?" To their surprise, I shake my head and smile. "No," I reply candidly. "He wasn't a good father, but he was a good man." Where Dad came from, that meant a great deal more.

And that night he dreamed of the monkey again, one of its cymbals striking the Philco radio as it babbled out Dean Martin singing Whenna da moon hitta you eye like a big pizza pie ats-a moray, the radio tumbling into the bathtub as the monkey grinned and beat its cymbals together with a JANG and a JANG and a JANG; only it wasn’t the Italian rag-man who was in the tub when the water turned electric. It was him. •

I’m about as political as a Bengal tiger. . . . I have a feeling that a nation is more than just government, laws and rules. It’s an attitude. It’s the people’s outlook. Dean Martin once asked me what I wanted for my baby daughter, and I realize now that my answer was kind of an attitude toward my country. Well, he asked me this on election day and the bars were closed anyway, so he had a lot of time to listen and I told him. . . . I told him that I wanted for my daughter Marisa what most parents want for their children. I wanted to stick around long enough to see that she got a good start and I would like her to know some of the values that we knew as kids, some of the values that an articulate few now are saying are old-fashioned. But most of all I want her to be grateful, as I am grateful for every day of my life that I spend in the United States of America. . . . I don’t care whether she ever memorizes the Gettysburg Address or not, but I want her to understand it, and since very few little girls are asked to defend their country, she will probably never have to raise her hand to that oath, but I want her to respect all who do. I guess that is what I want for my girl. That is what I want for my country, and that’s what I want for the men that you people are going to pick from here to go shape our destinies.

May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall softly upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.” Afterward

The Martin and Lewis Show was developed by NBC in the wake of the stinging CBS talent raids that lured Jack Benny and others to the younger network. NBC announced a talent hunt: the network was searching for rising young performers for radio and television. Soon thereafter a network executive caught the nightclub act of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, who had been performing together for several years and had developed some name recognition within the industry while remaining largely unknown to the general public.

He has spent weeks on the pristine, frosty shore of Lake Baikal in Siberia. He has drunk himself stupid in the fairy-tale blood brothels of old Dubrovnik, lounged in red-smoke dens in Laos, enjoyed the New York blackout of 1977, and more recently, feasted on Vegas showgirls in the Dean Martin suite at the Bellagio. He has watched Hindu abstainers wash away their sins in the Ganges, danced a midnight tango on a boulevard in Buenos Aires, and bitten into a faux geisha under the shade of a shogun pavilion in Kyoto.

In the kitchen, you dropped a plate, one of the willow-pattern blue platters, shattered it to bits, and as we swept if up together you said, 'Easy come, easy go,' and shrugged, and I thought then, That's a different way to see the world. I was always a worrier, always concerned about something in the back of my mind. And you made me see then that everything was perfect as it was, in that moment. Because we were happy there, sweeping up the pieces, you singing Dean Martin songs, and Southpaw joining in from his study. So that's what I remember, when I try to think about all of us.

Jerry thought of Dean as a brother, but in time, tempers and egos flared in the partnership, leading to their headline-making breakup in 1956, exactly ten years after they had joined forces. People worried what would become of Dean Martin, but Jerry Lewis flourished in his first solo films: The Delicate Delinquent, The Sad Sack, Rock-a-Bye Baby, and Don't Give Up the Ship. His directors include such comedy pros as Taurog and Frank Tashlin. Eventually, Lewis decided that he wanted to write and direct his own films. As a steady and stellar money-maker for Paramount, no one at the studio was prepared to stand in his way. His first effort was his most daring: The Bellboy,

You know when I said I didn't need you?" I asked. He lifted one brow. "I was so wrong.I can't find words to express quite how wrong I was." "Try." "Dramatically wrong," I said. "Terribly." "Please." "Okay,terrifically. Horrifically. Catastrophically." I gave him my best meek smile. "Forgivably?" He rolled his eyes. "I should have bought you a thesaurus for Christmas." I had his present in my bag (a bow tie that may or may not have once belong to Dean Martin, courtesy of eBay) and had a vague suspicion that the big lump in his coat pocket was a multicolored scarf I'd drooled over at Urban Outfitters. "I still think Bainbridge is an ass," he added. "I've been there,y'know. On the edge of where they live, wanting in." "I know." "You're better than that." "I know that,too." Kinda,anyway. I thought Frankie was pretty amazingly brave in about a hundred ways. He leaned forward them, and pancaked my hands between his. "I am here for youse, Marino.Forevah and evah." "No matter how stupidly I behave?" "Don't push it. And don't lie to me again.Now,what are you going to do about the Edward stuff?

The one image I eventually found of Alexis St. Martin as a whole young man is in a painting by Dean Cornwell entitled Beaumont and St. Martin—part of the Pioneers of American Medicine series commissioned in 1938 by Wyeth Laboratories for an ad campaign. Despite the unfortunate side-parted bob that St. Martin appeared to stick with all through his adult life, the man as Cornwell rendered him is striking: broad cheekbones, vertically plunging aquiline nose, and a firmly muscled, deeply tanned chest and arms. Beaumont is dashing but dandified. His hair is oddly waved and piled, like something squeezed from a cake decorator’s bag.

Our supposed leader was Miss Joyce, who had been working as a civil servant in the department since its foundation forty-five years earlier in 1921. She was sixty-three years old and, like my late adoptive mother Maude, was a compulsive smoker, favouring Chesterfield Regulars (Red), which she imported from the United States in boxes of one hundred at a time and stored in an elegantly carved wooden box on her desk with an illustration of the King of Siam on the lid. Although our office was not much given to personal memorabilia, she kept two posters pinned to the wall beside her in defence of her addiction. The first showed Rita Hayworth in a pinstriped blazer and white blouse, her voluminous red hair tumbling down around her shoulders, professing that ‘ALL MY FRIENDS KNOW THAT CHESTERFIELD IS MY BRAND’ while holding an unlit cigarette in her left hand and staring off into the distance, where Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin were presumably pleasuring themselves in anticipation of erotic adventures to come. The second, slightly peeling at the edges and with a noticeable lipstick stain on the subject’s face, portrayed Ronald Reagan seated behind a desk that was covered in cigarette boxes, a Chesterfield hanging jauntily from the Gipper’s mouth. ‘I’M SENDING CHESTERFIELDS TO ALL MY FRIENDS. THAT’S THE MERRIEST CHRISTMAS ANY SMOKER CAN HAVE – CHESTERFIELD MILDNESS PLUS NO UNPLEASANT AFTER-TASTE’ it said, and sure enough he appeared to be wrapping boxes in festive paper for the likes of Barry Goldwater and Richard Nixon, who, I’m sure, were only thrilled to receive them

In fact, every American that Dickens shows in the book is a homicidal idiot, except one--and he wanted to live abroad! Well! You can't tell me that a degenerate bunch like that could have taken the very river- bottom swamps that Dickens describes, and in three generations have turned 'em into the prosperous cement-paved powerful country that they are today! Yet Europe goes on reading hack authors who still steal their ideas from 'Martin Chuzzlewit' and saying, 'There, I told you so!' Say, do you realize that at the time Dickens described the Middlewest--my own part of the country--as entirely composed of human wet rags, a fellow named Abe Lincoln and another named Grant were living there; and not more than maybe ten years later, a boy called William Dean Howells (I heard him lecture once at Yale, and I notice that they still read his book about Venice IN Venice) had been born? Dickens couldn't find or see people like that. Perhaps some European observers today are missing a few Lincolns and Howellses!

STATEMENT AT YOUTH MARCH FOR INTEGRATED SCHOOLS As June approaches, with its graduation ceremonies and speeches, a thought suggests itself. You will hear much about careers, security, and prosperity. I will leave the discussion of such matters to your deans, your principals, and your valedictorians. But I do have a graduation thought to pass along to you. Whatever career you may choose for yourself—doctor, lawyer, teacher—let me propose an avocation to be pursued along with it. Become a dedicated fighter for civil rights. Make it a central part of your life. It will make you a better doctor, a better lawyer, a better teacher. It will enrich your spirit as nothing else possibly can. It will give you that rare sense of nobility that can only spring from love and selflessly helping your fellow man. Make a career of humanity. Commit yourself to the noble struggle for equal rights. You will make a greater person of yourself, a greater nation of your country, and a finer world to live in. April 18, 1959, Washington, D.C.

California, land of my dreams and my longing. You've seen me in New York and you know what I'm like there but in L.A., man, I tell you, I'm even more of a high-achiever - all fizz and push, a fixer, a bustler, a real new-dealer. Last December for a whole week my thirty-minute short Dean Street was being shown daily at the Pantheon of Celestial Arts. In squeaky-clean restaurants, round smoggy poolsides, in jungly jacuzzis I made my deals. Business went well and it all looked possible. It was in the pleasure area, as usual, that I found I had a problem. In L.A., you can't do anything unless you drive. Now I can't do anything unless I drink. And the drink-drive combination, it really isn't possible out there. If you so much as loosen your seatbelt or drop your ash or pick your nose, then it's an Alcatraz autopsy with the questions asked later. Any indiscipline, you feel, any variation, and there's a bullhorn, a set of scope sights, and a coptered pig drawing a bead on your rug. So what can a poor boy do? You come out of the hotel, the Vraimont. Over boiling Watts the downtown skyline carries a smear of God's green snot. You walk left, you walk right, you are a bank rat on a busy river. This restaurant serves no drink, this one serves no meat, this one serves no heterosexuals. You can get your chimp shampooed, you can get your dick tattooed, twenty-four hour, but can you get lunch? And should you see a sign on the far side of the street flashing BEEF-BOOZE-NO STRINGS, then you can forget it. The only way to get across the road is to be born there. All the ped-xing signs say DON'T WALK, all of them, all the time. That is the message, the content of Los Angeles: don't walk. Stay inside. Don't walk. Drive. Don't walk. Run! I tried the cabs. No use. The cabbies are all Saturnians who aren't even sure whether this is a right planet or a left planet. The first thing you have to do, every trip, is teach them how to drive.

training in a proactive and systemic way. Through the meeting with IACA Dean Martin Kreutner, the ACRC’s Integrity Assessment would be reviewed to be included as a part of the

At MGM, Arthur Freed and Vincente Minnelli made their last musical together, Bells Are Ringing (1960), reunited with Comden and Green. Dean Martin joined the Broadway package, replacing Sydney Chaplin, Charlie’s eldest son.13 Adding Martin’s star persona to the Judy Holliday vehicle produced another close match of movie star to musical role. As Jeff Moss, a Broadway playwright who’s been hitting the bottle harder than the typewriter, Martin fit the public perception of his romance with the grape. Even those who don’t care for the liquid Martin style find him charming in this musical.14 The vivacious answering-service operator Holliday nurses him back to sobriety and success, and the laid back, breezy Martin hoofs with Holliday in casual soft-shoe duets like “Just in Time.” In “Drop that Name,” Minnelli’s eye adds stylish brilliance to a satire of New York’s pretentious social elite, a Black-and-White Ball of burlesques and grotesques in answer to An American in Paris. Though Bells Are Ringing is neither vintage Freed nor vintage Minnelli—cramped by a middle-class present, a CinemaScope frame imprisoned in stageset interiors, and self-conscious disguises for Holliday’s shape—it is pleasant enough Holliday and Martin.

Deke, büyülenmiş gözlerle kadına bakıyordu. Hayatının geri kalanını nasıl geçirmek istediğini bilemem ama belli ki bu kadın, bir kadında aradığı tüm özelliklere sahipti. Bunda garip bir yan yok; Dean Martin'in bütün bilgeliğiyle dile getirdiği gibi "herkes birilerine aşık olur"...

marlow martin | January 1, 2016 Noted Ring Names: Dean Ambrose, Jon Moxley From: Cincinnati, Ohio Date of Birth: December 7, 1985 WWE Debut: Survivor Series 2012 WWE Titles Held: United States Championship, Intercontinental Championship Born: December 7, 1985 (age 30), Cincinnati, OH Height: 6′ 4″ Weight: 225 lbs Nationality: American Trained by: Les Thatcher Movies and TV shows: WWE Raw, 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown Dean Ambrose started his career back in 2004 under the name of Jon Moxley. Earning high praise from independent companies around the world, he became a household name for the hardcore, holding championship gold in companies such as Combat Zone Wrestling. With his name capturing the attention of wrestling fans across the globe, Jon soon earned a developmental contract with the WWE. He then took on the name of Dean Ambrose and began the process of cementing his name in stone. Feuding with William Regal and Seth Rollins most notably on NXT, Ambrose went on to make his much anticipated main roster debut at Survivor Series 2012, coming in alongside Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns to make a massive impact in the main event, aiding CM Punk in retaining his WWE Championship. The Shield have torn an unstoppable path through the WWE and at Extreme Rules 2013, Dean laid claim to his first taste of WWE gold, capturing the

Ambrose's injured left arm, but Ambrose rammed Regal into the ring post to badly disorientate him. Then, Ambrose ruthlessly kneed Regal's head into an exposed turnbuckle, causing Regal to bleed from the ear; the match was then ruled a no contest. After the match, Regal stared down Ambrose, then applauded him and turned his head to allow Ambrose to hit him with the Knee Trembler. Afterwards, the FCW locker room stormed the ring to separate Ambrose from a fallen Regal while commentators questioned whether Regal would ever be able to wrestle again. Ambrose made his main roster debut on November 18, 2012 at the Survivor Series pay-per-view alongside Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins, where they assaulted Ryback during the triple-threat main event for the WWE Championship, leading to CM Punk pinning John Cena to retain his title. The trio declared themselves "The Shield" and vowed to rally against "injustice". They denied working for Punk, but routinely emerged from the crowd to attack Punk's adversaries, including Ryback, The Miz, Kane and Daniel Bryan, who had attempted to save Kane. This led to a Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match being set up for the TLC payper-view pitting the three men of the Shield against Ryback and Team Hell No (Kane and Bryan), which Ambrose, Reigns and Rollins won in their debut match. The Shield continued to aid Punk after TLC; during Punk and Ryback's TLC match for the WWE Championship on the January 7 episode of Raw, they attacked Ryback, which resulted in Punk retaining his title. During the Royal Rumble event where the Rock challenged for Punk's WWE Championship, match, a blackout occurred and the Rock was

attacked in the darkness by unknown assailants, directly leading to Punk pinning Rock; the announcers blamed the Shield for the attack. The match was later restarted with Rock winning. The next day on Raw, the Shield attacked and laid out John Cena; Sheamus and Ryback suffered the same fate when they attempted to save Cena. Later in the show, it was revealed through footage played by Vince McMahon that Punk and/or his manager Paul Heyman had been paying the Shield and Brad Maddox to work for them all along. This set up a six-man tag team match at Elimination Chamber, which the Shield won. At WrestleMania 29, The Shield made victims of Randy Orton, Sheamus & Big Show in what was The Show of Shows debut of "The Hounds of Justice." The following night on Raw, The Shield attempted to attack The Undertaker but were stopped by Team Hell No. This set up a six-man tag team match on the April 22 episode of Raw, where The Shield emerged victorious. Four days later on SmackDown, Ambrose made his singles debut against Undertaker but lost via submission, after which the Shield attacked Undertaker and triple-powerbombed him through the announcer's table. On the May 3 episode of SmackDown, Ambrose defeated Kane in a singles match. On May 19 at Extreme Rules, Ambrose defeated Kofi Kingston to win the WWE United States Championship, his first singles title in WWE, while Rollins and Reigns won the WWE Tag Team Championships later that night. Ambrose made his first televised title defense on the following episode of SmackDown, retaining his title when he was disqualified due to the rest of the Shield's interference. Three days later on Raw, Ambrose defeated Kingston again to retain his title. At WWE Payback, Ambrose defeated Kane via

count-out to retain the United States Championship. The following night on Raw, Ambrose had a title rematch against Kane and retained after the Reigns and Rollins got Ambrose disqualified. On July 14 at Money in the Bank, Ambrose competed in the World Heavyweight Championship Money in the Bank Ladder Match and failed to win the match despite interference from Reigns and Rollins. Ambrose retained his United States Championship at Summerslam by disqualification when Roman Reigns of The Shield speared Rob Van Dam. Now aligned with WWE COO Triple H, Ambrose and his Shield cohorts have made life hell for Daniel Bryan while continuing their winning ways. Ambrose’s successful United States Title defense against Dolph Ziggler at Night of Champions was proof of this. At Hell in a Cell, Ambrose was defeated by Big E via count-out. He was on the winning side of a Traditional Elimination Tag Team Match at Survivor Series, but Ambrose was the first eliminated in the bout. He stumbled again at WWE TLC when an errant spear from Reigns allowed Punk to pin Ambrose and escape a 3-on-1 Handicap Match against the entire Shield. Ambrose would then compete at the Royal Rumble 2014 match along with Rollins and Reigns. Late in the match Ambrose would score three eliminations. Late in the match, Ambrose attempted to eliminate Reigns, however Reigns eliminated both Rollins and Ambrose instead. The next night on Raw, The Shield would compete in a sixman tag team match against Daniel Bryan, Sheamus, and John Cena with all three members of the winning team qualifying to compete in the Elimination Chamber match for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Ambrose and his partners lost

Ambrose was ejected from the arena by Triple H. Later that night, Rollins came out and announced that he had won their match by forfeit. Ambrose would then burst into the ring and attack Rollins and a vicious brawl ensued where both men had to be pulled apart by both The Authority and security. Rollins was then shown leaving the arena into the parking lot, where Ambrose was hiding in the trunk of a car and attempted to attack Rollins with a tire iron before Rollins managed to drive away. On the August 4 edition of Raw, Ambrose won the Beat The Clock challenge against Rollins when he distracted him on his match to pick the stipulation for their match at SummerSlam. Later in the week on Smackdown, Ambrose revealed the stipulation to be a Lumberjack match against Rollins at SummerSlam. They fought at the SummerSlam pay-per-view where Ambrose lost to Rollins. The following night on Raw in Las Vegas, Nevada Triple H allowed the WWE Universe vote on the match stipulation for a rematch between Ambrose and Rollins that night on Raw. The stipulation ended up as a "Falls Count Anywhere" Match. During the contest Kane made his way out assisting Rollins. Kane uncovered a stack of cinder blocks at ring side and held Ambrose down to allow Rollins to perform his curb stomp on Amborse against the cinder blocks. Ambrose was then sent to a local medical center, had he not thrown off his restraints, refused treatment and escaped from WWE officials altogether and he hasn't been seen since that night. On Night of Champions, Ambrose returned and attacked Seth Rollins after Rollins issued an open challenge. On the October 6th episode of Raw, The Authority would make the first match of the Hell in a Cell pay-per-view to be Ambrose against John Cena with the stipulation of the winner facing Rollins in a Hell

a Cell match for the main event at the pay-per-view. Later in the week on Smackdown, on the Miz TV segment between Ambrose and Cena, the match was revealed to be a No Holds Barred Contract On A Pole Match. On the October 13 episode of Raw, Ambrose and Cena had their match that night instead in which Ambrose won and will face Seth Rollins in a Hell in a Cell match at the Hell in a Cell pay-per-view. At Hell in a Cell, Ambrose lost to Rollins after Bray Wyatt attacked Ambrose at the end of the main event match. The next few weeks saw Ambrose and Wyatt taunting and attacking each other in both backstage and in-ring segments, with Wyatt claiming that he could "fix" Ambrose, leading to a match at Survivor Series. Ambrose lost the match by disqualification after hitting Wyatt with a steel chair and then hit Wyatt through a table in which Wyatt would be buried under tables and chairs as Ambrose stood on a ladder. This would then soon after announce another match between the two in a tables, ladders and chairs match on the TLC pay-perview next month. During the match, a television monitor blew up in Ambrose's face, allowing Wyatt to win the match. Ambrose managed to beat Wyatt in a Boot Camp match yet again was defeated by Wyatt in a "Miracle on 34th Street Fight". The feud concluded when Wyatt beat Ambrose in the first Ambulance match held on Raw. At the Royal Rumble, Ambrose participated in the Royal Rumble match, but was eliminated by Kane and Big Show. On the January 19 episode of Raw, Ambrose defeated Intercontinental Champion Bad News Barrett. The following weeks, Ambrose demanded a match for Barrett's title, but Barrett declined, leading to Ambrose attacking him, tying his hands around the ring post, and forcing him to sign a contract

THE PHOENIX PACK: Trey Coleman Alpha Taryn Warner Alpha Dante Beta Tao Head Enforcer Dominic Enforcer Marcus Enforcer Patrick “Trick” Enforcer Ryan Enforcer Greta Trey’s grandmother Grace Mated to Rhett Rhett Mated to Grace Lydia Mated to Cam Cam Mated to Lydia Kirk Brock’s son Selma Subordinate Brock Kirk’s father Hope Subordinate Louisa Trey’s mother, deceased NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE ONYX PACK: Lance Warner Alpha, father of Taryn Cecilia Warner Mother of Taryn, deceased Shaya Critchley Friend of Taryn Caleb Friend of Taryn Perry Enforcer Oscar Enforcer Joseph “Joey” Winters Died when only nine, believed to be Taryn’s mate Brodie Nicole Ashley Richie NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE BJORN PACK: Rick Coleman Previous Alpha, father of Trey, deceased Darryl Coleman New Alpha, uncle of Trey Josh Brother of Dante Summer Died as a baby, believed to be Trey’s mate Viv Mother of Summer Martin NOTABLE CHARACTERS FROM THE RYLAND PACK: Nick Axton Alpha Don Uncle of Taryn Derren Nick’s bodyguard Glory OTHER CHARACTERS: Roscoe Weston Alpha wolf shifter who attempts to claim Taryn Dean Milton Mediator

Blue moon, you saw me standin' alone Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for You heard me sayin' a prayer for Someone I really could care for And then there suddenly appeared before me The only one my arms will hold I heard somebody whisper "please adore me" And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold Blue moon, now I'm no longer alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own And then there suddenly appeared before me The only one my arms will ever hold I heard somebody whisper "please adore me" And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold Blue moon, now I'm no longer alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own Blue moon, now I'm no longer alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own

Probably the most telling point of likeness between the crowd-mind and the psychoneurosis—paranoia especially—is the "delusion of persecution.

Martin Hoffman (Hoffman, 1988) has argued that there are three reasons people behavior morally.  They are (in no particular order) Anticipation of immediate or future rewards or punishments Empathy for others Logical reasoning

wouldn’t have bet on a sepia photograph of Queen Victoria. ‘I see you’re admiring my picture of the queer old dean.

Nonetheless, the pattern seemed to repeat itself endlessly. A GE executive was named CEO of another company. News of the appointment would send the stock of that company soaring. The men were lavished with riches when they took their new jobs, signing multimillion-dollar contracts that ensured them a gilded retirement, no matter how well they performed. A period of downsizing usually ensued, and profits often ticked up for a few quarters, or even a few years. But inevitably, Welchism exacted its price. There was little focus on long-term strategy, and a slavish devotion to meeting quarterly results. “They wouldn’t know strategy if it hit them in the head,” said Roger Martin, the former Rotman School dean. “All they know how to do is take what they’ve got and refine it, make it operationally more effective.

I fumbled with their tack and harness. I found an abandoned dagger on the tarmac and cut away the barbed wire and spiked cuffs that had been digging into the animals' flesh. I carefully avoided their hooves in case they decided I was worth a kick in the head. Then I started humming Dean Martin's 'Ain't That a Kick in the Head', because that's just the kind of awful week I was having.

Mr. Wallingford, I noticed with amusement and some exasperation, was making the most of the situation. His shocked, mournful gaze as he took up the collection shook loose from the tourists a good deal of folding money. With the smallest bank note at five pounds these days, the take must have been considerable. How upset the dean would be if he realized the way the verger was using the tragedy! It was a little odd, come to think of it, that Mr. Wallingford was presiding. The main service of a Sunday was Mr. Swansworthy’s responsibility as head verger. But he was inclined to dyspepsia; perhaps he’d had too much Christmas. Certainly Wallingford was glorying in his importance. I watched him strut to the altar rail with the collection and was vividly reminded of the money changers in the temple.

plan. She refused to look at me during the whole journey. I sat beside her, Dean Martin panting between us, and rehearsed arguments in my head until her silence became unnerving. I glanced sideways and saw an old woman, who had recently come out of hospital. I had no right to pressure her into anything. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Margot,’ I said, as I helped her out in front of her building. ‘I just thought it might be a way forward. You know, with the debts and everything. I just don’t want you to lose your home.’ Margot straightened up and adjusted her fur hat with a brittle hand. Her voice was querulous, almost tearful, and I realized she had also been rehearsing an argument

By declaring that everyone is equally an end, Kant ignores all personal differences, and therefore the fact of individuality as such. We are each an end in respect to those qualities only in which we are identical—namely, in that we are "rational beings." But this rational being is not a personal intelligence; it is a fiction, a bundle of mental faculties assumed a priori to exist, and then treated as if it were universally and equally applicable to all actually existing intelligences.

Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. The cool kids of the 1960s invited the old man who had been cool before they knew cool was cool to join them in a musical romp that nobody took particularly seriously. Crosby enjoys himself. He has nothing at stake, since he’s not the star who has to carry the film. He’s very casual, and appears to be ad-libbing all his lines in the old Road tradition with a touch of W. C. Fields’s colorful vocabulary thrown in: “You gentlemen find my raiment repulsive?” he asks Sinatra and Martin when they object to his character’s lack of chic flash in clothing. Crosby plays a clever con man who disguises himself as square, and his outfits reflect a conservative vibe in the eyes of the cats who are looking him over. The inquiry leads into a number, “Style,” in which Sinatra and Martin put Crosby behind closet doors for a series of humorous outfit changes, to try to spruce him up. Crosby comes out in a plaid suit with knickers and then in yellow pants and an orange-striped shirt. Martin and Sinatra keep on singing—and hoping—while Crosby models a fez. He finally emerges with a straw hat, a cane, and a boutonniere in his tuxedo lapel, looking like a dude. In his own low-key way, taking his spot in the center, right between the other two, Crosby joins in the song and begins to take musical charge. Sinatra is clearly digging Crosby, the older man he always wanted to emulate.*17 Both Sinatra and Martin are perfectly willing to let Crosby be the focus. He’s earned it. He’s the original that the other two wanted to become. He was there when Sinatra and Martin were still kids. He’s Bing Crosby! The three men begin to do a kind of old man’s strut, singing and dancing perfectly together (“…his hat got a little more shiny…”). The audience is looking at the three dominant male singers of the era from 1940 to 1977. They’re having fun, showing everyone exactly not only what makes a pro, not only what makes a star, but what makes a legend. Three great talents, singing and dancing about style, which they’ve all clearly got plenty of: Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Dean Martin in Robin and the 7 Hoods

this: if endorphins are like having a single vodka and cranberry juice, serotonin is a double vodka and Red Bull, and dopamine, the gruntiest of them all, is like a dry martini, stirred, not shaken, no ice, no olives, drunk while listening to crooner Dean Martin.

picture that tells us everything." I took over the mouse and glided the page up until the not-so-innocent photo embedded in my report filled the screen. "This is Martin Dean at his

Dean Martin’s “You’re Nobody Till Somebody Loves You.

The point is, Dean was not and is not nor will he ever be the ideal husband... he gives the minimum amount.

Dad's final will was written and signed eleven days before he died. The original will it replaced disappeared and has never been found....I can't imagine him wanting to make such radical changes a few days before he died. I don't believe for one minute that he truly understood what was going on.

His plaque reads, DEAN MARTIN, JUNE 7, 1917-DECEMBER 25, 1995, EVERYBODY LOVES SOMEBODY SOMETIME.