We’re not saying anything about our neighbors, but they might have some weird friends. Not that we’ve ever indulged in a game called “Dead Jazz Musicians” or anything (Sun Ra: dead or alive). We are not the sort. The Miles Davis thing was purely coincidence; Mose Allison is doing just fine, thank you. Let us suggest that some things make us feel good about our particular level of crassness:
Like taking those expired Percocet, it seemed to be a good idea at the time. On some blog or another I ran into a mention of celebritydeathbeeper.com. Interesting idea: they send you an e-mail each time an angel gets its wings— I mean, each time a celebrity dies. (They are, apparently, not the same thing.) So I subscribed. I was feeling ironic that day.
Also, we have a weakness for Emily, so would have linked to this no matter what. Just saying.
