"Farrah Fawcett is gone now, too. Doesn’t anybody care?”

The answer, of course, is yes. But where Michael grew older, Farrah matured. Where one had difficulty distinguishing attention from genuine affection, the other finally understood the difference all too well. Each of these icons very much orchestrated the results of his or her own passing. Yet public or private, freakshow or quiet dignity, the end is the same for both, a simple truth: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson belonged not to the public, but to themselves, and will be mourned and forever missed by those who loved them.

Very well said.

On Facebook last Thursday night I wrote…

“Jodie Kash remembers a woman iconic to her youthful identity of all things female. Remembers a woman who fought back with both sunshine and pure spit. Remembers a woman who showed her balding head. Remembers a woman who chose life first. Remembers how quickly the period at the end of the story comes.”

I was sad with the oversaturation, the music and performance clips stopping in the mid-80’s.  Sighed this morning at a photo on TMZ of a massive white funeral carriage heading towards Neverland, well what was Neverland.

Farrah was buried yesterday.  Good her son was able to attend the service.  Good too, perhaps, the tabloid leeches have been diverted elsewhere.  Her journey seems just that much more dignified.

Good stuff, but let us not forget Billy May. The poster child for modern capitalism. Late night TV will never be the same.

Very nicely done my friend.  And today we learn that both Pina Bausch and Karl Malden are gone.  We’ve lost some great artists in the last few weeks.

Thank you for putting into words what most people have been feeling. 

And I note that Fred Travelenas passed on. 

Must be something about California.

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