As if losing one childhood staple this month wasn’t enough, Corey Haim – a featured star in some of my favorite movies growing up – died on Tuesday of pulmonary congestion. Maybe I’ve just been busy, but the former phenomenon’s passing seems like it was covered about as much as ‘Bron on St. Vincent–St. Mary. Which sucks. Because, weird as it sounds, I honestly feel somewhat attached to the once promising actor, even if he did become a walking train wreck later in life.
Alongside fellow boyish burnout Cory Feldman, “The Two Coreys” were like denim-jacket-wearing gods during my adolescence, co-starring in 80’s-baby cinematic classics like Lost Boys and License To Drive, achieving a scary level of success in return. And that was before the media floodgates opened and unwarranted fame became so easily achieved. Then, like usual, the clout went away quicker than it came and vices came into play. As a result of the turbulence, Corey Haim is dead at 38 and more people are cracking jokes about it than taking note. Proving once again, society is one big, cruel and unusual conglomerate of despair.
Lindsay Lohan, The Jonas Brothers, Jersey Shore’s cast members and every other unwarranted attention whore should take note. Celebrity doesn’t last. When your looks go away, you stop getting paid for appearances and people move on to the next pretty face. Then you die and no one cares.
Save your money, stay clean and you’ll be straight.