I always marvel at the fascination, including my own, with untimely tragedy or death of the famous and gifted, (and also the locally renown and gifted that most, if not all of us, have known in our personal circles.)


It seems it is one part a desire for a heros or gods/goddesses, one part envy, one part empathy, one part self-righteousness, one part shock, and at least one part object lesson on gratitude for the mundane and ordinary and the value of that in our own lives. And certainly a bunch of other parts that I either haven't noticed, or have chosen to not take the time to name here.

Let's let the guy rest in peace. None of us knew him, knew anyone who knew him, or much thought about him until he died.