Heart of Stone

Once again, I find myself unmoved in the midst of a public outpouring of grief for a celebrity (in this case, celebrities, as both Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett died today.) I have trouble feeling much beyond pity for their families and impatience with people who take the loss so personally. I mean, it's not like we knew Mr. Jackson or Ms. Fawcett. If it was someone we actually knew -- uncle, college roommate, neighbor -- I'd understand the tears. The grief would make sense. But for a stranger, no matter how accessible he/she may seem, it's silly and pointless to me. It's not your loss. Soon enough, life will come around to you so why borrow trouble? I just don't get it. It's probably because tragedy has smacked me in the face already. Twice. I know what it's like to lose someone important, someone whom I loved and lived with for most of my life. That kind of experience makes losing someone who put out a record or movie you really liked pale in comparison.

Regardless, RIP Farrah and Michael. Unless you really were a pedophile in which case I say too bad you didn't go much sooner.