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Heath Ledger either offed himself or OD’ed and the merchants of maudlin are in full emote braying about what a “tragedy” and a “shock” it is.
Tragedy. This is one of those words that has been so bastardized by misuse and overuse that it has ceased to mean anything. What happened to Ledger was not a tragedy. It was either stupidity (drug overdose) or weakness (suicide). A tragedy would have been if he was happily strolling across the street and got flattened by a bus.
It’s not even much of a shock as his friends knew about his depression and drinking problem for a while.
I don’t feel anything when a celebrity dies. It doesn’t affect my state of mind one iota. I shed no tear. I couldn’t care less if some actor living the life of a king and boffing the hottest chicks dies. In fact, I’d like it if all these guys were shot into space. The more heterosexual men shot into space, the better; leaves more women for me.
Women get worked up over the death of some famous dude who they’ll never meet because they are designed by nature to want lots of quality guys around to give them the option of picking and choosing at their leisure. Fewer alphas means a higher chance of settling for a beta.