The call came to tell me that Forrest J. Ackerman died. I hadn't heard. Dunno that I can yet spook of it. If there'd been no FJA, there'd have been no black and white shot of King Kong overlooking New York City, his beast gal in hand, the caption ghouling on that Kong was "Empire-roar of all he surveys." I feel like I did when I heard George Reeves had died, wayback when, and once more I'm not feeling too super, man. While I type this, I'm just like then, crying like a baby, I haunt kiddin'. I feel so down I'm bawlin', like when I furredst saw Kong a-fallen. Miss ya, Forry, batly. If yer ever lookin' down on me from those Karlofty heights, lemme know, so I can wave up to ya and ghoul "Slay man, fangs a rot!" Sure you've gone the way of mortal flesh, of old coat Kong fur, of the real Ann Darrow and her furfull Fayt. But I don't Kharis, I SAID care if the whole world knows, even if I should stay "Mum" about it. See, I figure ya got Anubis-ness venture upscares in horror heaven, and you're even now working away at the terror-type. And once I wipe away my tears, I know I'll see that you've sent aWray of hope to shine down oh-pun us. (May it shine Forryever.) -- T.K.