Robin Williams dead

Doug S.

The protoplasm may be 72, but the spirit is 32!
Lifetime Supporter
Didn't he just go to rehab recently?

Sad, indeed...Mork out...nanu-nanu!

Doug
 

Robert S.

GT40s Supporter
RIP Robin Williams and thank you for the laughs, smiles, and good works

Very sad indeed. Somehow I was surprised that he was only 63; still way too young to pass. He devoted his life to causing people to laugh and to be happy. He won an Oscar for a serious acting roll too.

I had no idea he suffered for many years, unable to do for himself what he accomplished for millions. Stardom, fame, and wealth take a toll on many. But, who knew!

I have a bad habit of relating many memorable and emotionally based circumstances to music and lyrics.

Simon and Garfunckel's first album in '66 featured a song they wrote in '64. It was born from a narrative poem entitled Richard Cory and was written by Edwin Arlington Robinson in 1897. It speaks to the circumstances that all things are not as they seem, and to be careful what you wish for.

Here's the Simon and Garfunkel song:

"Richard Cory"

They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town,
With political connections to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, a banker's only child,
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show.
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything he's got.

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.

He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
"Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head."

But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard Cory.
 
If not for the help and love of my dear wife that could easily have been me, that Black dog is one mean SOB.

john
 
Back
Top