Here's to the worst of people.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is dead of a drug overdose, and people are mourning and kvetching and remembering all his great films and plays and ranking him on the pantheon of Grrrrrr-eat ACK-tors.

News flash: There are other actors. You'll continue to be entertained.

So you should think about something else.

For instance, think about his children, now left fatherless. Some idiot neighbor of his joined CNN's breaking-news coverage to talk about how he dotingly walked them to school every day, and how much he loved them. Well, if so, then why has been getting high on heroin when they're not around? He knew full well there was an excellent chance his stupid choices could force those kids to grow up fatherless. He had every single imaginable advantage in terms of health care, mental health care, support from friends, ability to go hide from the world until he cleaned up. The raw truth: He decided he would rather stick a needle in his arm than be there for his children.

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And what about his life partner, who now must deal with this loss? For the rest of her life, with nary a break, this woman will be harangued and harassed and never left the fuck alone by selfish, full-tilt idiot PSH fans/media/sycophants who simply MUST say what THEY think about it. I feel terrible for that poor woman. From now on, every time she turns on the TV or goes to a movie or sees a magazine cover or is bothered by a "fan," she'll be reminded of what was taken away from her. Every whisper she hears will make her wonder if it's about Him. She's going to need incredible strength.

But what's important is that _you_ get to express your own personal sadness. You, you, you, addicted to pontificating sure-as-shit as PSH was addicted to skag. You selfish fucksticks. The truth? All you really care about regarding the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman is that he acted in movies that you enjoyed. So that gives him a pass from criticism, and somehow it gives you the right to be sad for him and only him. Nary a thought is given or a word stated about his poor kids or his crushed partner or for any of the dozens of other people with far fewer options who died of drug overdoses in the past month. Nope, just him. Because you saw him in the movies.

When Rush Limbaugh got hooked on painkillers, you cackled like a maniac. Oh, fuck, that was rich. And now this selfish dope dies with a needle in his arm and you're crying for him?

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No, you're not. Not really. You're crying for you. And the cycle of narcissistic selfishness is renewed. It would make me want to cry for society, if I thought it would do any damned good.