Death is rarely a subject that generates the laughter on a grand scale, which is a shame, as it’s in plentiful supply (er death that is…not laughter…). And karmically speaking, I certainly don’t want to anger the gods of mortality by making fun of anyone’s specific demise, however…
There was something just a touch tragicomical about Richard Carlton, famous for his dislike of the media-circus but once again right there in the thick of the whole frenzied pack, asking his last ‘difficult’ question at the Beaconsfield mine moments before staggering off-camera to collapse and expire.
My sympathy goes out to Carlton’s family/friends; at least as much as I can muster considering they are complete strangers and the man did have a chronic heart-condition. I tend to save the real, heartfelt sympathy for strangers like the Delezio family, especially when my compassion is in such short supply to begin with.
It wasn’t so much Carlton’s death that I found amusing but rather the number of people falling over themselves to trot out that well-worn cliché; that ‘Carlton died doing what he loved doing most…reporting the news’.
It got me wondering whether I’d like to go out doing what I love the most??
And despite what many of you are thinking right this second…that is NOT what I like doing the most, you sick fucks.
Strangely, it WAS what Michael Hutchence loved doing the most, although not many of his friends or family, upon hearing that he’d been found hanging from a hotel door-knob with a jar of Vaseline and a selection of pornographic magazines by his side, ever said ‘Michael died doing what he loved doing most…jerking off’.
How about you??
If you had to go, would you like to go doing what you loved doing the most…