This is a stupid story. I know, I know. I should probably preface every story I tell on this blog in that manner. Okay....I mean this is another stupid story.
I have been very active on social media for well over a decade. My activity waxes and wanes between platforms. Sometimes I'll go for long stretches posting fervently on Twitter. Then, for no discernable reason, I'll lay off of Twitter in favor of Facebook or Instagram... only to return to Twitter. And then the cycle starts again or sometimes rearranges itself. It is not planned. It just happens. More recently, I post simultaneously on all three major platforms. (No, I have no plans to joins the ranks of Tik Tok. You're welcome.)
If you have been a follower of mine for any length of time (and why wouldn't you be?), you know that I post celebrity death anniversaries on a daily basis. Each day, just after I finish up a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, I search the internet and post four or five photos of particular celebrities who passed away in a past year on that particular corresponding date. I get some "likes" each day... and that's pretty much it until the next day, when it starts all over again. I have been doing this for years, adding to the commemoration as more celebrities pass away. Often, my "Instagram Memories" remind me that I have used the same photo of a particular celebrity on more than one occasion.
For the record, my criteria for "celebrity" may differ from yours. I like to seek out forgotten names that may not have the wide-spread recognition. I like actors who are known for one obscure role (like Dwight Frye or Kasey Rogers... Google 'em) or a sports figure who holds a unique, but insignificant, record or distinction (like Red Sox third baseman Ted Cox, the only player in Major League Baseball history whose first name and last name rhyme with the team he played for.) I find these folks more interesting than the typical US President, Academy Award-winning actor or Hall of Fame ball player.
On September 27, 2013, actress Phyllis Davis passed away. She was an actress with a respectable, but admittedly unremarkable, career. She appeared in a couple of grindhouse-caliber "women in chains" films, as well as a few more mainstream, yet equally forgettable, pictures. On television, she guest starred on Magnum PI, The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. She is best remembered for playing Robert Urich's "Gal Friday" on the crime drama Vega$. She was the one who wasn't Judy Landers.
Every September 27, I post a photo of Ms. Davis along with a reminder of the year she died. She joins Metallica original bassist Cliff Burton, author William Safire and publisher Hugh Hefner, who all died on September 27 — though all in various years. As we know, everything on the internet, stays on the internet forever. So every so often, one of my posts gets a "like" months or even years after its original upload. My annual posts commemorating the "deathaversary" of Phyllis Davis garners a barrage of "likes" on a regular basis — years after the fact and — time-wise — no where near September 27.
It's weird.
Every so often, for several days in a row, a years-old post of Phyllis Davis will get a dozen different likes from a dozen different accounts. If I click on one of these accounts, they either have no posts of their own or their account is designated as "private."
What is it about Phyllis Davis? Was she a good actress? Eh... she was okay, but nothing special. Was she attractive? I suppose. But she seems to have this rabid cult following that unearths itself like seventeen-year cicadas, but on a more frequent cycle and with an affinity for 80s TV supporting actresses.
I watch a lot of "classic" TV — mostly shows that originally aired between the 1960s and the 1980s. I have spotted Phyllis Davis in many episodes of these shows — from her brief appearance as a harried neighbor (in a brunette wig) in an episode of Adam-12 to her roles in four different episodes of The Love Boat. When I see Phyllis Davis, I wonder if her loyal legion of "Davis Heads" relish her screen time, bowing with a reverence and admiration usually reserved for the likes of a Sarah Bernhardt or John Barrymore.
Or maybe all those "likes" are just from a bunch of bots.
Who knows?
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