Not a Good Day for the Rich and Shameless

Michael Jackson is dead. So what?

C'mon, the guy was a fucking freak. And he hasn't done anything important, in his chosen career, in 20 years. So, again, who cares?

Farrah Fawcett is dead. So what?

C'mon, yeah, she was the pinup girl when I was a kid. And, yeah, she was a Charlie's Angel. But, what was the last noteworthy thing she did in her chosen career?

If you want to discuss something important because of these deaths, how about this:

FF was 62, and died of cancer. MJ was 50 and died of a heart attack. 62, 50, this is way too young to die.

First, cancer. Cancers are many and varied, and we've made incredible progress in defeating them, but there is still a long haul ahead. 62 is too young to die. Rich, famous, beautiful, poor, anonymous, ugly. It doesn't matter. 62 is too young to die.

Next, heart attack. I don't know MJ's medical background, but I do know this; dancer's tend to be very fit people. They don't suffer heart attacks. I'm just typing out of my ass here, (like that's news) but I can't help but think that there is an external factor involved.

Let's face it, the man was a mess. All those surgeries, the attempts to remain a little boy forever. We know he had no childhood to speak of, and I think therein lies the problem. 50 is too young to die, especially if the seeds of that death were sown, in childhood, by an overbearing prick of a celebrity father. God DAMN it, love your kids. Shelter them. Protect them. And if anyone tries to harm them, tear the sonuvabitch apart. Don't exploit them, and if they do achieve fame, do whatever you can to keep them sane.

The Spears girls. The Olsens. Danny Bonaduce. The list is sooo damned long.