Dead Beat
by Walter
Winchell
Last night at Toots Shor's
all the talk was about
this new tome attacking a
great American hero, Joe DiMaggio,
who happened to be
sitting at his usual
table in the back,
greeting a bunch of lucky
stiffs. One of 'em
wanted to know if
he'd read the book
and he said, "No.
After I died, I stopped
reading."
Later, at Jack Dempsey's
watering hole, I ran into
the Brown Bomber himself,
Joe Louis. I asked
the champ if he ever
thought of fighting
again. He said yes, as a
bantamweight. He may have
lost his senses, but not
his sense of humor.
Meanwhile, you
can't go anywhere
without hearing the name
Matt Drudge.
Youd think the guy
died and went to heaven.
And this fellow wears a
very familiar fedora,
too. In fact, I think
it's the one I was
buried in.
Developing
Ran into Judge Crater
the other day and asked
him what he's been
doing ever since he
disappeared off the face
of the Earth. "The
Limbo," he cracked.
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