Farrah Fawcett died today. I was never really a fan, so I’m not particularly affected. In fact, the only thing that comes to mind is a classic bit from Steve Martin:
“Farrah Fawcett is so conceited. She has never called me once. And after all those hours I spent holding up her poster with one hand…”
That’s terrible. I should be more sympathetic. I know she suffered through her illness, so I hope she rests in peace.
Michael Jackson died today. I was a fan, back around 1983 (I owned Thriller on vinyl, so I must’ve been). I got over him pretty quickly when I discovered the glory of 80’s metal (Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, etc). However, like everybody on the planet, I always managed to keep up with him, thanks to the tireless efforts of the tabloid media. If even half of what they reported is true…. well, I won’t go on a tirade. I hope he wasn’t really a child molester. He clearly suffered from mental health issues his entire adult life. I think his was a deeply troubled soul. I hope he’s at peace now. In any case, the world is less weird now.
My coworker Michelle left work early today, but called our receptionist with a message for me: Jeff Goldblum died today too. I haven’t been able to confirm this, but I hope it’s not true. I wouldn’t call myself a fan, but I certainly appreciated his work in The Fly.
I always say death comes in threes. I don’t need the universe proving me right today. It’s my fourth anniversary, for God’s sake. Can we stop all the death please?
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