It's like they can't leave the bloody thing well enough alone and look for any excuse to milk his "tragic" demise for yet another two bucks. Hence the latest headline I saw yesterday while shopping with my dad: "Did He Have a Secret Child?"
(I was seriously about ready to put my fist through a wall when I read that.)
I mean (wow, am I ever rambling) is NOTHING is sacred to these people??? Leave the guy's life alone and let his family grieve already!! Doesn't anyone have respect for the dead or the relatives of the departed anymore?? Is human life really that cheap? Is that all that matters, using some guy's death just to sell those many more copies? What about honor and integrity in journalism? What about letting Mr. Ledger simply die instead having to continually dig him back up just so you can get that "big scoop" or whatever? I don't WANT to know the "juicy" details about this person's involvement, what so-and-so witnessed, this new development, that new development, blah blah blah. It all turns the situation into some two-bit soap opera for the masses while ignoring real problems, like starvation, war, corrupt government, and a thousand other things that should be addressed but aren't because everyone's too busy caring about their precious celebrities.
Wow. Writing about this I really do want to cry now. (Sigh) I hope I'm not the only one who feels this way. Anyhow, take care whoever's reading this and with any luck you'll never be famous and have your life smeared every which way by this kind of junk. Cheers! biggrin
Obligatory photo of above mentioned dead guy, along with also obligatory depressing poem of "remembrance":
"Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken;
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed:
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on."
--Percy Bysshe Shelley,
"Music, When Soft Voices Die"
EDIT: Here is a much more uplifting poem about death and loss, included just because:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die."
--"Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep,"
Generally attributed to Mary Elizabeth Frye, 1932
