If you have been trapped in a space capsule / nuclear fallout shelter / open field with no TV, radio, or intranets, then you may have missed that both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson passed away today. Ms. Fawcett after a long battle with cancer, and Mr. Jackson after going into cardiac arrest. Ed McMahon also passed away yesterday, creepily and horribly completing the “Rule of Three,” which I wish weren’t true, but God damn it, people keep dying in threes! So here, in no particular order and after a very very long day of work (called in at 1 rather than 2 and worked til 11) are some thoughts on the matter.

*I am sorry these people have died. They had families who loved them, and that is something quite sad.

*Farrah is in a better, post-cancer place. No more suffering. Insert your own “Angel” joke here.

*A friend of mine wrote on his Facebook status that “The King of Pop died years ago. Today a sad, sick man died.” And just because I love MJ’s music doesn’t mean I don’t agree with him. I think that’s why people are so fascinated, because a seriously messy and tabloid life has come to an end.

*But was the end REALLY that surprising?!?! He was 50 years old. And in crappy health. His face was melting (sorry, it was) and he was always wearing germ masks, and looking generally gaunt and unwell. One can’t assume a body in that condition will last. It’s so bizarre to think he was scheduled to perform in London in just over two weeks. I wonder what will happen to the millions of tour t-shirts that will never sell. Straight to EBay?

*Final thought. Farrah has totally gotten Mother Teresa’d by MJ. If you don’t understand the following statement, you’re clearly not as insensitive as I am. Years ago (11 I believe) Mother Teresa died and we were all very saddened, that the world had lost a woman who did so much good, so selflessly. But she was old, and it was not a great shocker. The world began to mourn. Then HOURS later, Princess Diana, beautiful, fucked-up and fascinating, died in a horrific and unexpected manner. And the spotlights of the world turned to her and stayed there. Mother Teresa faded to the back pages. Which is probably how she would have wanted it anyway, but do you see what I mean? Farrah Fawcett is the new Mother Teresa (another sentence I would never in a million years imagine myself typing). Hopefully, this is good for her family though, because they will be given a lot more space in which to sort themselves out. Not so much MJ’s kids though, and for that I feel awful. Seriously press people. I know it’s fascinating, but those kids are already going to be balls-deep in therapy soon. Let ’em be.