Hey, guys, here’s your requisite “Brittany Murphy died” post, since I know people will keep asking me about it if I don’t say anything. It sucks when people die, but since I didn’t know this chick and everybody else on the internet has already covered this, I don’t really have any business writing about her. Otherwise I might say something like, “I didn’t know her personally, but I’ll always remember the way she licked her hand to moisten Eminem’s wiener when she boned him in the car factory in 8 Mile.” (Love that movie, btw).
See? Not very respectful. But the other option is something totally insincere and phony like celebrity death coverage in the mainstream media. Good job, there, local anchor, practice that tragedy face in the mirror. And make sure you pause a couple beats before we transition to the segment about the water skiing squirrel.
Consider this a disclaimer that you shouldn’t look to people like me to sum up the life of a person I was aware of. And when I say things like “I heard Brittany Murphy died having sex with Tiger Woods,” it’s not because I’m trying to be a prick, I’m just not good with tragedy. (And who decided dead people wouldn’t want to have jokes written about them, anyway? I know I would.) Anyway, it’s a shame, she seemed nice. But really, how the f-ck would I know.