Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Manufactured Grief...

There's nothing worse, I think, than the manufactured grief that often accompanies the passing of a celebrity. Especially a D-List-washed-up-I-don't-even-remember-you-celebrity who's impact on your life, assuming they have one, is so fleeting and insubstantial that you can't even be bothered to remember their name.

I feel that way about the passing of Corey Haim, whom I was informed -- after the fact -- was a Big Star in Movies (exactly two of 'em!) in the 1980's (Hey, he's My Generation! I should care!), and was somehow such a huge and tremendous talent of such incredible import that...I forgot all about him.

In fact, I'm certain a lot of people forgot just who Corey Haim was. And that's probably the root of many his problems.

I'm not here to crap all over the dead, and certainly not all over this guy; I can understand what drove his addictions and I have some sympathy for the mental anguish it must have caused him and his family. What I don't understand is what his partner-in-crime, Corey Feldman (who I also forgot about, until someone reminded me that he was in "The Goonies") was talking about, thus:

"...In a posting on his Web site today, Feldman wrote: "I miss you so much already. When I think of something funny I don’t know who to tell it to. I find myself trying to call you but then remember your (sic) not there. I think about the new movies we will soon be doing together and then suddenly realize that the dream is over. I always feared this day would come, and often rehearsed how to face it. But once confronted with the reality of it, it’s so much more painful than I could have ever imagined. Nobody will ever understand the brotherhood we shared."

Feldman also wrote that he "never knew" that Haim's death would "have such a huge impact on the world."

"I learned something Corey, there are a lot of people out there who really love you, and appreciate the joy you have brought to their hearts," he added. "I only wish you could see the way the world is mourning over your absence...."

Okay, a few comments:

Firstly, Corey and Corey were living in some sort of fantasy world (probably drug-induced) in which they were going to become "famous" again. Sorry, but child stars usually only gain fame the second time around when they manage kill someone, most often themselves. No one was ringing your doorbell, and no one was dying to get either one of you back on the silver screen. I should have thought that after two decades in the "Where are they now?" bin, you might have noticed. Even when someone did want you to work for them, it was to exploit you in one of those new-fangled reality shows which are little better than kiddie porn for all the redeeming virtues they possess.

If that's what you had to look forward to then no wonder you took drugs. For your own good, Mr. Feldman, the sooner you begin to realize that high of fame and notoriety is gone and will never return, the sooner you can begin to heal yourself and perhaps save your own life. Your acting days are probably over; the only reason you had a few in the first place was because you were a semi-cute kid. You grew out of that, and then no one had a use for you afterwards. Get used to it, and adapt accordingly.

Finally, it's this line which really gets my goat:

"I only wish you could see the way the world is mourning over your absence."

I can promise you this: by next week, Corey Haim will be forgotten again by the greater mass of humanity. And so will Corey Feldman.That's the saddest truth about life.

The only reason anyone (other than Haim's family and friends) "mourns" Corey Haim today is because we live in the age of relentless 24/7/365 media outlets that have time to fill and bills to pay, and if they have to jam square pegs into round holes, or spend an inordinate amount of time shouting the virtues of people who have even the slightest amount of notoriety and impact in order to fill, --then damn straight Corey Haim somehow becomes relevant again! Suddenly, because he managed to kill himself, he becomes My Generation's John Barrymore, Errol Flynn and Orson Welles all rolled up into one, and I'm supposed to mourn the loss of such a spectacular talent.

Alright, that's business, and I can understand that. But what I object to is that someone retroactively decides to beatify the guy when he overdoses, and then expects me to join in a orgy of forced and manufactured grief. I really and truly resent being told what I should invest my emotions in, especially by people who really don't give a shit.The second thing that I object to is that someone had to die in order to get a little attention, which might have saved a tortured mind -- and in this case, he gets all the wrong sorts of attention way after the time when any of it might have mattered.

Where were you people when this man needed your help?

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