
Macho Madness bruck bruck bukaw!
I hope no one was expecting anything great after yesterday’s masterpiece, because instead of doodling a penguin when I got home I went on a bike ride and got drunk instead.
And I know it’s been a little while, but Macho Man’s passing had quite an affect on me. When somebody famous who influenced you long ago dies, it forces you to look at your own mortality. You begin to realize that the timeless phrase of “This too shall pass” applies to positive situations as well, including everything we know and cherish, and ultimately ourselves. This kind of understanding isn’t something that should be ruminated on to a great degree by anyone, lest they become a pessimistic cynic, or far worse, apathetic.
That is why the death of a celebrity, whose life and accomplishments were celebrated to a far greater degree than our own, can bring such powerful emotions to the bubbling surface of our psyche. Though we had never met or truly known the person who passed away from this life to the next, their passing symbolizes an end of an era, a realization that our own existence is a finite thing.
Death is a fact. As it comes to us, it is marked and datelined in our private memories. JFK shot, Michael Jackson dead, Macho Man’s heart exploded. Even fictitious deaths like Darth Vaders or Mufasas, (heaven help us when James Earl Jones dies) are remembered quite poignantly.
The thing to remember is that ancient phrase, that timeless wisdom.
“This too shall pass.”
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