I came of age in the 1970s, when Farrah Fawcett was probably the most popular pin-up in America. Whether running dashingly around on Charlie’s Angels, or smiling brightly, yet provocatively, in her famous red swimsuit picture, she was everywhere.
Those images are so vivid in my mind, it’s hard to believe that this fixture from my youth is dead, but she is, having died this morning from cancer.
My condolences to her family and friends.
UPDATE: I came in from dragging out mountains of collected junk from around the house, only to discover the news completely taken over with Michael Jackson’s death. He was an incredibly talented and pathetic human being. I don’t think he enjoyed life very much. As with Farrah Fawcett, my condolences go to his family and friends.
The one thing I know for certain is that, as I tweeted, Jackson’s death is a welcome relief for reporters who get several days reprieve from having to grapple with such challenging issues as Iran, cap-and-trade, a sagging economy, etc.
As for me, unless I have a larger point to make about society or media, this will be the last I have to say about either of these stories, which are personal tragedies for the families, and marginally interesting news of the minute for the fans.