Over the past few weeks death has behaved like a fat girl in a hostess outlet store. He has dragged his scythe across Hollywood and reaped a number of stars. While a couple of the deaths didn’t really take anyone by surprise, what was really shocking was how the media treated the slew of celebrity deaths.
A lot of heroes have died in the past. Those firefighters running up the stairs of World Trade Center while the whole thing was coming down are heroes; General George S. Patton was a hero; for some of us, Sara Lee was a hero (and quite possibly a Messiah), Michael Jackson was not a hero. If you listen to the coverage of his death, one would think this guy was a national treasure. The same people who are now singing his praises and covering his demise in a manner no unlike the death of Mother Theresa were treating the guy like a freak just a few short years ago. Lost in the Michael Jackson coverage has been the celebrities who have managed to meet their maker in and around the time that Mr. Jackson assumed room temperature.
Farrah Fawcett may not have been a hero, but from the moment she was diagnosed with cancer until she lost her struggle with the disease she could be easily labeled as noble. Her death was not a sudden shock, as most of us have seen it coming for the last few years, but she faced down a very terrifying reality with uncommon grace, dignity, courage, and grit. She didn’t give an inch until the moment there were no more inches to give. She has also been largely ignored by the media as they rush to find out how much Michael weighed when he died, and how many needle marks were on his body; never mind the scars on her body from years of chemo and other treatments.
Ed McMahon also passed away recently. The press either covered his time with Johnny Carson or made sure we all knew that Ed was financially ruined in his last years. His death was not as sexy a story as other celebrities shuffling off the mortal coil, but he was probably a better, more interesting, person then most of the ilk you find in Hollywood. Unlike most stars, whose most courageous moments include not crying during a waxing session, McMahon was a war veteran, fighter pilot, and patriot. He was a decorated Ace for his service in World War II and Korea, and retired with the rank of Colonel. He was an affable presence during the years that the tonight show was good, and didn’t get treated with nearly the respect he deserved later in life. Today’s spoiled and self involved celebrity generation can learn something from this guy.
Billy Mays has spent the last few years screaming at us to buy things like Oxi-Clean and Hercules Hooks. His death has been almost a non story seeing as in real life he was a family man with a wife, a three year old daughter, and apparently a bad heart. He didn’t die amidst drug accusation or involved in any really deviant behavior, but rather as the result of an untimely heart attack. His death was a tragedy seeing as he just seemed to be a nice, self-made guy who was taken way too early.
The media showed a rare moment of restraint by doing their best to simply whistle past the death of David Carradine. It would seem that David “Kwai Chang Caine” Carradine met his end by playing a one man sexual concerto while using a shoelace to choke himself. Details are still murky on this one, but those trying to imagine the last moments of a senior citizen dying by autoerotic asphyxiation will quickly find that this is the sort of image that you can only get out of your head by drinking bleach.
Whether someone’s demise is noble, untimely, or just weird, let’s hope Death has had his fill of Hollywood personalities for the year.
