The Top Ten Deaths of 2005

Nevermind the bollocks, here’s your weekly Top Ten list. As I stated last week, there are five Fridays in the month of December. That means you get to read FIVE year-end lists. I can tell you’re just as excited about this as I am.

THE TOP TEN DEATHS OF 2005

Andrea Dworkin was a feminist who often polarized audiences with her propog- I mean, writing. She really, really hated pornography, calling it “a violation of women’s rights.” And, from the looks of things, could you blame her? Methinks someone didn’t receive a call back!

Arthur Miller wrote “Death of a Salesman,” “The Crucible” and also “After the Fall.” So, you know, like, attention could be paid…

Frank Perdue doesn’t look like his vibrant self in this stock photo from some online newspaper, but it’s impossible to forget his shiny melon and bright smile from television commercials as he hawked his chicken to millions of viewers. Didja catch the pun there? If Frank (who started his fortune selling eggs) were here, he would have appreciated how fucking witty I am by cracking up alongside me. Pun-tastic!

Saul Bellow was a literary genius who blurred the line between comedy and melancholy. He was also a Jew, but that’s besides the point. He wrote “Herzog” and “Humboldt’s Gift,” both of which I would highly recommend. As far as 20th century literature is concerned, Bellow is right up there with Phillip Roth and who else? No, seriously, who else? I can’t think of anyone.

Johnny Cochran‘s death was overlooked because he departed in the same 72-hour period as Terry Schiavo and the Pope and Frank Perdue. After making a name for himself as the lead defender of O.J. Simpson, Cochran probably continued to practice law. I used to wonder how he could sleep at night, knowing–just like the rest of us–that O.J. killed his wife. Now I know how he sleeps.

You might not recognize her from the picture, but that’s Terry Schiavo. I know, she looks totally different than the vegetable that was on TV every single day leading up to her death. This was by far the worst news story of the year, and also the most meaningless. All I know is, she’s dead now, and probably really embarrassed that her family chose to show those pictures and video of her to hundreds of millions of people. If anything, she helped me create a new dictionary entry that looks something like this:

schiavo
Main Entry: schia-vo
Pronunciation: ‘shI vO’
Function: transitive verb
1 : intoxicated to the point of numbness; to enter a vegetative state. “hey. you wanna schiavo?”

My friend Justin introduced me to Mitch Hedberg and I was always very thankful for that. When I heard that he died down the street from my house (yes, literally it’s down the street) I was pretty bummed. His deadpan delivery of those hilarious and obvious observations that we overlook each day was unparalleled.

I’m not going to say anything about Johnny Carson that hasn’t been said already, and I can’t say much because I have very sparse if any memories of the Tonight Show from when I was born until his last episode in ’92. It’s kind of unfortunate that the majority of my memories of Carson come from stupid SNL sketches.

Until I took an Electronic Music course with a friend and peer of Robert Moog‘s, my only real exposure to his impact on music was by listening to a band like the Rentals and thinking that it sounded cool. His contributions to the world of electronics were the work of a genius. If you haven’t already, go see the Theremin movie (Theremin: An Electronic Odyssey) because he absolutely steals the film.

Okay, so I’m slightly biased because I’m a writer and he just happened to monumentally change the role of a journalist by injecting himself into the story as a character. The mark of an egotist? Maybe. But you can’t deny the brilliance of his body of work, and the way that he strung words together. I wouldn’t call it lyrical or stunning like some great fiction writers, but he had his own unique style and tone and it resonates deeply inside his fans.

Did anyone notice that the fat chick at the 10-spot (Dworkin) was the only one who’s photograph demanded a different scale than the rest? She was really that fat, I guess. Let’s hope all these folks rest in peace, and with time the future generations they inspire will build upon what they were able to accomplish. Except the fat chick.