Legendary funnyman Jerry Lewis, who for over 70 years made audiences laugh with his wild, crazy humor and became an institution of American entertainment, died this morning at his home in Las Vegas. He was 91.

There is no question that the mere mention of the name Jerry Lewis incites many different opinions in individuals spanning generations, but one thing is clear: regardless of one’s personal taste for the man and his attitude to comedy, there is no denying the sheer power and legend that he exuded, a gravitas that combined old Vaudeville with slapstick and later a slick Las Vegas style, honing elements of Charlie Chaplin, Stan Laurel, and Jackie Gleason into an amalgam of a rubbery, limber, anything can happen comedy style that people like Jim Carrey were able to bring to a newer generation. This solidified in every way the importance of what Jerry Lewis meant to so many people.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the seminal and legendary album by The Beatles, which not only seemed to crystallize the band, but also the entire sensibilities of the youth of the globe during the mid to late 1960s, celebrates its 50th anniversary today.

Released in America on June 2nd, 1967, and a week or so earlier in the band’s native UK, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band has become such a recognizable force in pop cultural history, it’s almost like a brand, a headquarters where so many musical and cultural influences spawned. From its rich and vibrantly complex yet totally welcoming cover to the same adjectives applied to the wide range and scope of music, which almost acts as a primer for every single style of music up to that point in musical history (pop, cabaret, vaudeville, psychedelia, straightforward rock) and even acting as a blueprint to just the around the corner genres that followed (like progressive and even acid rock), Sgt. Pepper is a true artifact of a time long gone and yet still acts as a straight arrow pulse right in contemporary society, whether it’s for novelty’s sake or reality’s sake.

One of the greatest American funnymen of all time has sadly passed away. Don Rickles, who perfected the art of being the insult comic and spanned generations with his biting yet always loving acerbic quick wit and banter, died today at his home in Los Angeles, CA, of kidney failure. He was 90. He had been battling ill health the last couple of decades, but had retained his razor-sharp mind to the very end.

For my money, he was the funniest man alive. Known sarcastically as “Mr. Warmth,” the Queens, New York native had such a talent and gift for making one laugh, many times even belly laugh, with his quickness. He wasn’t like Groucho Marx or Jack Benny in the sense of the one-liners, but he stood toe-to-toe with them and so many other comedic luminaries in that he was able to rib all of them and scores of Hollywood celebrities, in a manner which exposed a frailty or a kind of tabloid urban legend that had been foisted upon them and then exploiting that foible. Genius examples would be how he would make fun of Dean Martin’s drinking, the ethnicity of people like Desi Arnaz or Ricardo Montalban, or the color of the skin of people like Denzel Washington or Cesar Romero, not in direct terms, but playing on and then hilariously skewering the cliché and the stereotype of it, as politically incorrect as that may seem in today’s ultra-sensitive world.

The Godfather, which is not only one of the greatest mob movies ever made but also one of the greatest American films ever made regardless of genre, celebrates its 45th anniversary this week.

Premiering only in New York City on March 15, 1972 and then opening nationwide on March 24th, 1972, The Godfather remains a true bonafide classic in every sense of the word. The film’s rich storytelling, which is based on the original story by famed literary scribe Mario Puzo, almost borderlines on pulp fiction, yet is raised to a level of fine art by the surefooted and sharp and watchful eye of director and mastermind Francis Ford Coppola. Add to that the cinematography by Gordon Willis, which put blacks and whites and shades into a pioneering new light; the memorable, sweeping music, led by the iconic theme song; the acting by an ensemble cast led by Marlon Brando and supported by actors who wound up becoming legends in their own right, The Godfather is many things to many people and a masterpiece of a film to all.

Chuck Berry, the unfounded absolute legend and major crafter of much of the archetypical sounds and styles of the genesis of rock and roll, was found dead today in St. Charles, MO. He was 90.

Without question, the superlatives that have been foisted upon Berry ever since he exploded onto the scene in the early 1950s have never been placed incorrectly. It’s a simple equation: Without Chuck Berry, there wouldn’t be rock and roll, period. He made a blueprint (born from his love of players like T-Bone Walker and the like who came before him) that plays out like a true blue American songbook of the rock and roll idiom. Those songs are as well known as any other in any genre in any sound any human being has ever made, and the influence has stretched long and wide, influencing a chain link of titans of the rock genre who followed, like John Lennon, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, the list goes on and on endlessly.