Fuck you, 2016…

Seriously, what is it about this year? Have I just reached the age where really meaningful people of my youth die off?

Don’t answer that, actually.

So you had to take Prince, too, huh? Bowie wasn’t enough was it? Then you get Alan Rickman, you got Doris Roberts the other day. Garry fucking Shandling? Really?

Ronnie Corbett.


Stop. It’s not even May. Pace yourself.


Can we shield Tom Baker, Brian Blessed, and Keith Moon from this. Also, lay one finger on Grant Morrison, Wil Wheaton, and Goldie Howe, and… well, impotent fist shakes and shit.

I know it’s asking a lot. Please, understand that we have this weird attachment to celebrity. We’re predominantly a media culture, perhaps, but is that a bad thing?

O’ mortality, thou art a fickle beast.

We have the music.

This is not your preferred version of this song.


Go on. Say something.

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