I joined Marilyn Monroe, Walter White, Ozzy Osbourne and other tribute artists on a cruise where imitation is its own art form
INT. DECK 7, LE CABARET ROUGE, 11.37pm
Frank Sinatra, palming a can of Sprite in one hand and the fist of his beautiful red-headed wife in the other, sat in a dark corner across from Jeff Bezos, who looked like he was waiting for him to say something. But Sinatra said nothing. He’d been mostly quiet all evening, and now in this cabaret he seemed even more distant, staring out past fog and strobe and Bezos’s strong bald head and into the large room where at least half a dozen men had basically shattered a bistro table trying to get a better look at Marilyn Monroe. Sinatra’s wife knew, as did Roy Orbison and Austin Powers, who stood nearby, that it was only minutes before he was supposed to go onstage, and that forcing any sort of conversation on him in this mood of focus would be extremely stupid.
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I joined Marilyn Monroe, Walter White, Ozzy Osbourne and other tribute artists on a cruise where imitation is its own art formINT. DECK 7, LE CABARET ROUGE, 11.37pmFrank Sinatra, palming a can of Sprite in one hand an...
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