Several years ago when my beloved Anna Nicole died, I immediately emailed Parker about this great loss. Since then, we have developed a kind of a sick "Death Watch" competition - to see who can scoop the other first when a celebrity passes on to heaven (or in most cases, hell).
Our "Death Notice" emails used to be long and detailed, looking something like this:
I just saw on PerezHilton that Heath Ledger found dead surrounded by drugs. OMG!
But with the passing of time and the death of more and more celebrities our emails turned to shorter texts which read simply:
2 days ago, I was literally awoken at 5 am with the jingle sound of an incoming text: "Ted Kennedy died. Got ya!'" I was vindicated later that night when I texted Parker back with the grim words "Dominick Dunne dead! Scooped you." (Parker had only vaguely heard of Dominick Dunne and was less than impressed).
Just a few hours ago, Parker send me the following earth shattering news: DJ AM Dead - SCOOP! (OK, I'll give her this "scoop" but in all fairness, both of my laptops were in the shop and I had no access to the world wide web of gossip that I check 10 times daily). Scoop or no scoop, I'd just like to write an open letter to the dead DJ AM:
I don't mean to sound insensitive but last time I checked, the life of a Hollywood "DJ" wasn't exactly what I would call "stressful". I wish someone would pay me millions of dollars per year to drink Red Bull, and spin Lady GaGa records at Villa Nightclub 4 days per week. Didn't you just barely survive a deadly plane crash less than a year ago (and a few months later on the cover of People Magazine thanking your lucky stars and praising life?) I've just about had enough of you and your cohorts (Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger et. all) offing yourselves with crack pipes and vials of pills. Last time I checked, most of you dead Hollywood youngsters had a pretty "sweet" life. It's not like you are being laid off from your factory job with 4 kids at home and a house in foreclosure. Now that you are gone - you will be rewarded with a People/US/Life & Style cover story with sad testimonies about what a great guy you were from all of your hard-partying Hollywood pals: "No one could spin vinyl like DJ Am. He would dub a Bee Gees groove over a P Diddy rap and it was pure genius!"
Newsflash: DJ AM was no genius. He was a lucky bastard with a turntable and a crackpipe. RIP Dumbass.
Afterword: In retrospect my assessment of the death of DJ AM seems rather harsh and a bit creul. Rumor is he suffered from depression (I've been there and it's no fun). But don't you just want to yell "C'mon people!" every time a new young hollywood type dies of drugs?