Death of a Salesman, Angel, Pop Icon and more
Kenneth Long
Issue date: 7/1/09 Section: Opinion
The Kung-Fu Master, David Carradine.
The Ultimate Sidekick, Ed McMahon.
The Pin-up Girl, Farrah Fawcett.
The King of Pop, Michael Jackson.
The Bearded Pitchman, Billy Mays.
The deaths of all these people have shown the ebb and flow of the life of a celebrity.
Americans are fickle, and our news media shows it. After the initial break of a celebrity's death, most everything is put on hold. After last weekend's domino effect of celebrity deaths, Iran, Gov. Sanford's infidelity and now the long-forgotten Franken Senate race in Minnesota were pushed to the back burner.
At the same time a celebrity dies, their contributions to TV are aired non-stop. I love "Thriller" as much as the next person, but when it frequents the same channel three times an hour, it gets a bit much. I did enjoy seeing "Kill Bill" though.
Maybe the greatest impact these people made with their deaths were in bank accounts. MJ may have left millions in unpaid debts, but I know of a few stores that sold out of "Bad" and other MJ albums. OxyClean probably isn't doing too badly either. The legendary poster of Fawcett will probably be marketed heavily again.
It's important to realize how hard it is to replace the nostalgia and talent each of these celebrities had. Vince Offer, another popular infomercial pitchman, pales in comparison and moral standing (after beating up a hooker for biting his tounge.) Justin Timberlake is talented, but he's yet to reach MJ's "Thriller" level. Any talk show sidekick has yet to coin iconic phrases as McMahon has.
Sure, it's easy to say that a celebrity's death means as much as any other person's, but the next time someone tries to pose for a poster, sell a wonder cure for household problems, wield a Samurai sword, introduce your favorite talk show host or do the moonwalk, laugh.
Celebrity worship is probably ingrained in your psyche, and it makes an impact when icons die.
The Ultimate Sidekick, Ed McMahon.
The Pin-up Girl, Farrah Fawcett.
The King of Pop, Michael Jackson.
The Bearded Pitchman, Billy Mays.
The deaths of all these people have shown the ebb and flow of the life of a celebrity.
Americans are fickle, and our news media shows it. After the initial break of a celebrity's death, most everything is put on hold. After last weekend's domino effect of celebrity deaths, Iran, Gov. Sanford's infidelity and now the long-forgotten Franken Senate race in Minnesota were pushed to the back burner.
At the same time a celebrity dies, their contributions to TV are aired non-stop. I love "Thriller" as much as the next person, but when it frequents the same channel three times an hour, it gets a bit much. I did enjoy seeing "Kill Bill" though.
Maybe the greatest impact these people made with their deaths were in bank accounts. MJ may have left millions in unpaid debts, but I know of a few stores that sold out of "Bad" and other MJ albums. OxyClean probably isn't doing too badly either. The legendary poster of Fawcett will probably be marketed heavily again.
It's important to realize how hard it is to replace the nostalgia and talent each of these celebrities had. Vince Offer, another popular infomercial pitchman, pales in comparison and moral standing (after beating up a hooker for biting his tounge.) Justin Timberlake is talented, but he's yet to reach MJ's "Thriller" level. Any talk show sidekick has yet to coin iconic phrases as McMahon has.
Sure, it's easy to say that a celebrity's death means as much as any other person's, but the next time someone tries to pose for a poster, sell a wonder cure for household problems, wield a Samurai sword, introduce your favorite talk show host or do the moonwalk, laugh.
Celebrity worship is probably ingrained in your psyche, and it makes an impact when icons die.
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