Frankly…. as the speed of culture reaches a fevered pitch, the concept of celebrity and what it means to be “famous” will deluge our world with endless droves of gaggling voyeurs trying to identify with someone who had been on TV for a season or two…. and a tipping point of what it means to be gawked by onlookers will inundate us. There will be, at some point, more famous people than those able to celebrate them. It will be at that point our news will be littered with hours a day of reporting of deaths… comedians, soothsayers, Nobel winners, evil madmen…. as all these types of people and more are amalgamated into a bin that includes the sterling of our community that we respect to those with Warhol’s 15 minutes decades behind them….
…. a daily faucet of death will drip, drip, drip into our eyes, and ears, and minds…. making us fearful of the reaper because he visited someone we ought thought worthier. But they were nothing more than famous…. no less.
But they will litter the airwaves, and if you think 2 or 3 at a time is bad now, just wait until the one hit wonder news makers that were a 24 hour media darling, or reality TV show participants start to age…..
and there goes the faucet from a drip drip to bloop blip…
and we will wonder if their deaths are nothing more than a reminder of our mortality.
So turn off the fear, and go out and play. Possibly kiss someone because I am sure it will help some.