Things Get Kinetic
Moon built a giant French window facing McQueen’s home, a mere 50 yards away. He spent an inordinate amount of time behind the glass with binoculars, hoping to get a glimpse of Ali McGraw naked. He also installed spotlights facing toward his neighbor’s palatial mansion in pursuit of this lecherous goal. There were lots of loud, crazy parties as well. Eventually, the King of Cool had simply had enough.
The bright lights shining directly into his home interfered with McQueen’s sleep, something he viewed as sacrosanct. Finally, at his wit’s end, McQueen simply stepped outside and blew the lights out with his favorite 12-bore shotgun, and then he went back to bed.
Moon rightfully felt that the local cops would not be terribly sympathetic given his eclectic fashion choices, so he opted not to report anything. McQueen actually shot his neighbor’s lights out once more before he got the memo. Eventually, Moon moved back to the UK, where he died of a drug overdose at age 32.
Steve McQueen’s denouement was comparably tragic. He developed pleural mesothelioma, an aggressive form of lung cancer brought upon by asbestos exposure and exacerbated by cigarettes. McQueen went to Mexico, where he was treated with a weird variety of alternative medical therapies, including coffee enemas, injections of live cells harvested from cattle and sheep, and a dangerous experimental drug called laetrile. Predictably, none of that worked. McQueen succumbed to the disease in 1980 at 50 years old. It was an ignoble end to a most acrimonious and unneighborly feud.
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