Okay really, I don't get sad when people die. Not really. Saying I don't give a shit who dies is a bit too strong but suffice it to say that I don't lose sleep over it. My feelings about it is somewhat different in each case. When Michael Jackson died, I was like, "The King of Pop is gone. Is it possible to have another? My conclusion was, "No. There could only be him. Any other person would be a different person." I was a bit sad about how he was largely misunderstood and how the media used him to attract attention but that was it. My parents died and and those were people I gave a shit about. After them, I knew I was going to give at least a little less shit about anyone else who died.

So when I heard Stephen Hawking (I had to resist the temptation of spelling it as Hawkings like I once did - the man deserves at least that) is dead. I was not really sad. My uncle used to tell me, "Seventy-five is what you get if you are lucky." On that account, I think Stephen Hawking was lucky. Plus he has had medical issues that probably made his life a labour for him and all those around him. So I don't think his death is something to be sad about, at least not for him. But for those earthlings who aren't smart enough to think his thoughts, I find at least one reason to be sad: we may miss insights into our Universe that only someone like Hawking could have given us. Now that he is gone, what would happen to us concerning those insights? Perhaps someone else would see it. Right?

So Stephen Hawking is dead. Do I give a shit? A little shit but not because he is dead but because we need him alive. Michael Jackson is dead. Do I give a shit? Yeah, a little but again, not for him but for myself. Do I pretend to give more shits that I do? No, sir. It is worth nothing to me to do so. I guess the media has an excuse: it is worth something to them. Okay I will stop here before my opinion trumps trumpman's :)