Bettie Page was The Sex.

I’m finished.

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Madelyn Dunham, Barack Obama’s grandmother, who he has credited as one of the most influential forces in his life died today. As always, Obama spoke of her death with poignancy.

I’m finished.

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An icon has not died. THE ICON HAS DIED. Paul Newman’s death saddens me to no end.

I’m finished…and will be watching Slap Shot to sort of cheer me up.

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Isaac Hayes, The Duke of New York, is dead. Damn. I feel like this blog is turning into an obit column lately. If you’re a cool celeb and don’t want to die, I think it’s time to make yourself uncool and unpopular. Molest a child and move to the Middle-East or something. It worked for Michael Jackson.

I’m finished.

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Bernie Mac, a funny muthafucka as he would say, is gone at the age of 50. I discovered Bernie Mac when some buddies and I saw The Original Kings of Comedy back in college. His act was the film’s show stopper. Pure unfiltered, fuck PC brilliance. This was a guy who made talking about slapping annoying kids in the heads with hammers hilarious. Comedy like that makes the world a better place. The void Mac leaves makes the world a worse place.

I’m finished.

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He was an unrepentent homophobe, misogynist, and racist. A political thug. And a degenerate. And like his friend Jerry Falwell, I’m sure Helms was quite shocked to wake up in Hell this morning. There is no meaning to be found in the fact his demise occurred on the 4th of July, just as there is no meaning for what number a roulette ball ends on. Anyone who compares him to Tom Jefferson and Johnny Adams for sharing the same death date is a mental defect. The world is a better place without Jesse Helms. I’m glad he’s dead.

I’m finished.

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As lame as it is to admit a celeb’s death upsets me, I confess this one has–although George Carlin would be the first to roll his eyes and deride such whiney, mawkish bullshit. But. Sometimes you can’t avoid it.

I started listening and watching Carlin’s act at an age that’d make most uptight, baby proofing buzzkills condemn my parents as degenerates for allowing their young son to hear such filth.

Oh, but the filth was genius. Poetic. Honest and true. And my parents knew I’d be better off from listening to it. Carlin was a writer’s comedian, a cunning linguist. Yet, he was also an astute observer of human nature, often commenting on the darkest parts of it, the type of hard truths we seldom acknowledge exist within ourselves. He was a rare, half-crazed mutineer against the status quo, a man who could pry humor from chaos and nihilism.

Carlin heavily influenced my sense of humor and philosophy towards life. And I am truly upset by his death. Yet, he leaves a legacy of laughter and insights that few in our lifetimes will match.

I’m finished.

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First, Tim Russert. Now Stan Winston. Giants in their respective trades. Gone. Sad. Not a good week for very cool people of the world. Oh and anyone who created this:

is a genius worthy of all exclaim! 

I’m finished.

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I know when celebs die, hyperbole breaks off its leash. As if this was the greatest human being to ever use a liver and other internal organs. In some ways this is happening with Tim Russert. BUT. He really was a great guy. Amanda and I watch Meet the Press almost every Sunday. We love Tim Russert. Loved watching him during the primary season. He was a perfect, rational counter-balance to Chris Matthews’ exaggeration-spewing madness. He was one of the very few political journalists with the balls to grill the spittle out of politicians–yet, still do it in a sane, respectful manner.

This election season will not be the same without his incisive point of view. Damn.

I’m finished.

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That was a man with screen presence, in the truest sense. And a damn fine director to boot.

I’m finished.

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