Oh, by the by, Robin Williams isn’t dead.
And neither is Chris Brown, Eddie Murphy, Celine Dion, Justin Beiber (damn), Matt Damon, Patrick Dempsey, Rowan Atkinson, SouljaBoy, Reba McEntire, and Paul McCartney.
All of these lovely celebs at one time or another met their premature ends, Williams being the latest, at the hands of The Grim Tweeter. Just a couple of fingerpecks on a smart phone touchscreen, or a few thumbstrokes on a Blackberry keyboard, hit send and … blammo, stop-drop-but-don’t-roll … they’re over, done, cooked, kaput, basically fertilizer. Adios, arrivederci and sayonara you-wild-and-crazy-celebrity-you. Much more lethal than a Vulcan death grip. And far more potent than a scalding New York Times review.
Just try that on a Princess phone and a land line. Go ahead, I dare you. You’ll die dialing.
Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t McCartney already dead? Like back in 1967 or ’69 or something? Remember the hidden lyrics in The Beatles’ albums, “I buried Paul,” and “Turn me on, dead man”?
And what about the prophetic Beatle’s Abbey Road album cover? The Fab Four, single-file, in the crosswalk. Lennon leads, all in white (the holy man), followed by Ringo, all in black (the mourner), then barefoot Paul (corpse) and scruffy George (the gravedigger).
Paul’s even out of step with the other three, ’cause everyone knows dead men stink at walking.
Whattaya mean, you weren’t born yet. Go ask your parents. Sigh … all right, all right, go Google it.
Those were the days, those death hoaxes back then. Creative, mysterious, spooky even. And you had to work at finding the clues too. Not like death hoaxes now. Death by Twitter. Here one nano-second, gone the next. Phone lights up, it’s lights out for another Mr. Bigtime. Makes untimely and untrue death no fun at all, and no challenge either.
Hey, wait another minute. You do realize that if The Beatles were The Beatles today, rather The Beatles back then, they would never be able to pull off the “Paul is Dead” hoax?
I mean, how do you play an mp3 of “Revolution 9” backwards?