In my perennial quest for the ultimate literary taboo there is nothing more controversial than death. The dead must be respected, even cherished, regardless of their sins committed while flatly footed on mother earth. It doesn’t matter whether you were embezzling tax dollars, poaching animals or the foreman for a Ku-Klux-Klan Nazi foot fetish society; passing on is a sure way for some sort of final respect to be earned.  Utter bollocks! Our alcoholic former health minister, loved by garlic and beetroot farmers alike, passed away in the last year from, yip you guessed it; liver failure. Saturating your body with enough liquor to power a Fiat Punto and committing a minor genocide through continued AIDS denialism does not garner any kind of admiration. Frankly I’m glad she’s gone, another stain cleansed from our tarnished carpet of political history. And while I sit here awaiting a lightning bolt to strike me down for my moral indiscretions, I’m taking a look at the 2009 calendar year and thinking it wasn’t a good one to be a celebrity. And most of these deaths were not “natural causes”. Sure you have Beatrice Arthur, that beloved old sex kitten from the Golden Girls, who  kicked the bucket at 86. And while I cant be sure, I’m near certain she was wearing a crotchless cow girl suite when her lights went out. But on the whole,  there were some eerie passings this last 12 months. Circumspect deaths were in greater abundance than black eyes on Rihanna; and they don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. So heres a plea to celebrities for 2010; don’t operate heavy machinery, drive at the speed limit and don’t overdo the Viagra if you’re a sexually adventurous 85 year old with a heart condition.

Retired boxers tend to go off the deep end as soon as they end professional competition. Ali became the human vibrator, George Foreman became the poster boy for fat-free cooking and Mike Tyson became that dude with a tattooed face, a pet tiger and a voice that resembles an 8-year old eunuch. This is all fine and well until Big Mike’s daughter died in a tragic gymming accident. An oddly fitting way for a steroid fuelled meat stick’s infant to go, however tragic it may have been. The official cause of death was strangulation by a treadmill cord, and I can just imagine how Mike used his squeaky-toy voice to explain the incident to the police officials who arrived on scene. “Well officer, I was doing my morning 5 mile, incline on 13, speed on about 12, the sweat was coolly dripping from my brow and I really needed to push through the last 10 minutes as my blood sugar was struggling to get me over that last hump, when my four year-old tripped, fell and strangled herself on the power lead” were you taking parenting lessons from a Britney Spears-Hitler mutant hybrid?  Bad Mike Tyson, Bad!

It wasn’t a good year to be a blonde bombshell either, and not only because Kevin Federline was probably hiding in your closet. Farah Fawcett, the original Charlie’s Angel, hung up her final Double D brazier and said goodbye to this cruel world, cause of death: Anal Cancer. This is without doubt the worst possible way to die, right up there with being trampled to death by bunnies, or accidental strangulation while masturbating. Yes David Carradine, the now Infamous star of Tarentino’s Kill Bill series, managed to choke to death while waxing the salmon. Dudes the world over cringed, yet sales in tow ropes and Vaseline somehow tripled in the two weeks post mortem. FYI ladies; it doesn’t work. But enough about old men and accident-prone self-pleasurers, let’s get back to hot dead women. Our list wouldn’t be complete without mentioning Brittany Murphy. This cute little vixen was exactly like a 40 year old Hannah Montana, except without a training bra, without her own Disney special and she was of legal consenting age when she slept with Ashton Kutcher. Her love affair with Mr. Jack Daniels got the better of her and when she downed enough painkillers to numb the Hulk and consumed more Johnny Walker than Nicole Richie’s mother during pregnancy, the results were not so pretty!

There are of course the obvious ones that passed on this year; pre-pubescent boys finally paid attention in science class and managed to whack Michael Jackson. Who would have thought that the easiest way to kill the king of pop was with strategically placed pain medication and not something exorbitant like diamond plated cross bows or exposure to direct sunlight. Patrick Swayze finally succumbed to cancer after getting offered the role of the Scarecrow in  an upcoming remake of the wizard of Oz, where instead of wanting a brain all he longed for was 6 percent body fat. Ted Kennedy managed to die from something other than an alcohol related death. Thanks Teddy, I managed to lose 300 bucks on that one! Fucking bookies only gave me 2 to 1 odds as well!

Then there’s the whole issue of celebs who should have died, but didn’t. I don’t think anyone with an IQ big enough to walk upright would argue that Beyonce should not have won a Grammy, unless it was the parallaGrammys. Getting people to write you horribly shitty lyrics does not make you an artist, head on a stake please, medium rare. Grey’s Anatomy favourite neurosurgeon MacDreamy irritates me no end; that perfect hair and smug grin. I wish I could operate on his brain, with a soup spoon and a used heroin needle! If anyone ever deserved an upper cut to the gullet it would be Cristiano Ronaldo, sure hes good at football, but do you have to be such a... well... cunt? Finally NeeYo, or however you spell it. The guy who beat up Rihanna. What a fuckin coward. Wish he’d gone to prison and had his asshole turned into a mineshaft, and your music is shit too, please die, thank you.

I realise this is article is filled with hate and there is now little doubt that I will be venturing to hell in the not too distant future. But it’s all down to the fact that celebrity culture is just so ridiculous that dying in these outlandish manners is just too funny. There were some truly tragic passings this year to which I will dip my cap: Walter Cronkite, the father of investigative journalism let Cerbovascular disease get the better of him and he will be sorely missed. Millvina Dean, the last survivor of the Titanic died in a catastrophic stripper accident aged 97. Oh wait did I say stripper accident? I meant pneumonia. And finally fashion icon and one of the most talented designers of the century, Alexander MacQueen, died under dubious circumstances just last week and runways will never be the same. So while I might come across as disrespectful, crass and insensitive, please note that I’m just taking the piss. But if you are a celebrity; don’t do your own electrical wiring, do not feed killer whales and whatever you do don’t decide 2010 is a good year to try skydiving, because I’m too gatvol to write this article again next year!

~Stroob~