Michael Jackson, dead at the age of 50, due to a dr. who couldn't say "No" to the King of Pop, and instead enabled his disease, thereby killing him with a drug that should ONLY be used in ORs, under the careful watch and guidance of an anestheologist.
Not that I had his posters up and was totally enamored of him...I didn't realize how big of a fan I was til I found out he was gone. Sounds about right, for my life.
John Hughes, founder of Shermer, Illinois, director of all 80s movies that really mattered, died today of a heart attack while walking down the street with his family in NYC. "The city claims another victim," so sayeth Jenn Turner.
WTF?
Creator of Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, The Breakfast Club...Mr. Mom, even. I grew up on this stuff. THIS is what has made me [partially] the smart ass I am today. As sophomoric as "they" say the humor was, it seemed real. It seemed that every Samantha would get her Jake(ha!) and that all misfits had a place. It gave us hope.
Now what do we have? Vampires that sparkle in the sun?
THAT's not hopeful.
THAT's faggy.
RIP John Hughes.
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