First things first: Heath Ledger's death. What a shame. Who would have though that the pretty boy with that buttery Australian accent, who won the hearts of millions of American girls (and boys) in 10 Things I Hate About You, would shed his teen heartthrob husk and climb to the heights of film icon. I mean, did you see him make out with Jake Can't-Spell-His-Name in Brokeback Mountain? That was some hot potatoes. And it couldn't have come at a worse time. Anyone who's watched the new Batman movie trailer online as many times as I have (very many, I suspect) knows darn well that his demented portrayal of Batman's nemesis, the Joker, was going to yank his career up to impressive heights. Shucks. Celebrity deaths have a strange effect on people. I heard the news while riding the BranVan. The driver was frantically yammering into the radio when she turned around and said: "Heath Ledger is dead. The people at headquarters wanted me to tell you guys." Murmurs flooded the van and the phrase "That's sooooo weird" was the common verbal denominator. Stepping off the van on the way to The Outer Limits (a fine, fine comic book establishment) my steely companion and I waxed poetic on the fine points of celebrity death.

Why do we feel so strange? Is it because the natural celebrity life cycle is disrupted? Could be. We love to watch them take their first awkward steps like a newborn pup, hit their stride, their limelight, and then slowly become feeble and senile hosts for travel service commercials. Though I doubt anyone will miss William Shatner passing the mantle of Priceline Negotiator to our dearly departed Heath, it's nonetheless unsettleing to see his cycle cut short so early. Another explanation could be the degree to which celebrities have become ingrained in our minds as fixtures of our cultural landscape. When a bedrock celebrity like Ledger dies, the quake is felt far and wide.

It's a strange and thoroughly modern phenomenon that the average civilian can know so much about a famous persona without ever meeting him. Some even form attachments to famous personas. So what happens when that connection is severed? Though it's a one-way street, the disruption is bound to have some sort of effect, as though a distant relative whom you had never met had passed away. There's a sense that something has changed irrevocably.

So, light a candle, put on some white foundation and red lipstick, make out with a member of the same sex, and remember an actor whose time came too soon.