The Cult of The Dead
In the Mash Tun pub in Brighton, they used to run a sweepstakes on who would be the next celebrity to die. I seem to remember Shane McGowan being odds on favourite most of the time. He's still alive, yeah? Pretty sick but also funny in a dark kind of way.
Anyway, it seems that there's a celeb plague out there this year bumping off revered artists and TV also-rans. In some macabre version of virtue-signalling, one feels almost honour bound to write some appreciation, essay a critical appraisal of the recently deceased star. Well, no more. I have a plan.
I will construct a list and if the dead celebrity is not on the list, then no obit on this site. Harsh but fair. I have other issues to write about, important matters to discuss. I can't keep being blown off course by the cut strings of an arbitrary fate. Blah Blah, RIP and all that. Sad for the families.
Music (for it was, as the song says, my first love)
Beatles - Paul McCartney and RIngo Star, of course
The Stones - Mick, Keith, Charlie, Bill, Mick Taylor and, yeah, Ronnie Wood
The Who - Pete or Roger (The Ox and Mooney having already bought the farm).
Led Zep - Percy or Page. John Paul-Jones
Byrds - McGuinn, Crosby, Hillman
Randoms....
Ray Davies, Morrissey or Marr, Ian Brown, John Squire, Mani or Reni, Madonna, Johnny Rotten, Simon or Garfunkel, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Rod Stewart, Elton John, Trevor Horn (leave space so I can insert later the name of someone really obvious who I've forgotten).
One mustn't always discount the possibility of some random dying who's time is most certainly not due (Prince, for example).
And that's it.
Cheers, ears
Tim