R.I.P. Robin Williams

As I sit here unable to sleep, again, I have finally realized that the death of Robin Williams has affected me more than I could have possibly imagined. And, it’s not because of the cause of his death. It’s because I never knew the man, but this event has cemented my definition of immortality.

Lauren Bacall passed away the next day, completing the latest “they come in threes”. And, why is it they come in threes? I can only imagine a couple versions Robin may have come up with:

  • [singing] Because one is the loneliest number…
  • It sure beats being #2 (yes, that’s a poop joke)
  • Because the celestial taxi system that ferries souls to heaven is having a fuel shortage, so they have to carpool. And, the first two get impatient real quick. “C’mon, fucking DIE already. St. Peter is waiting…I’m gonna miss my galactic neru massage! Hurry it up already!”

OK…that last one maybe a little more George Carlin. But, that’s where Robin took things and that’s why we laughed our asses off.

As a kid, I used to memorize Robins routines and perform them for my family. I am a decent mimic, and I would study his mannerisms and delivery. And, even as second hand, recycled comedy, his routines would bring the house down. I think I caused a few asthma attacks even.

I guess this is where I actually started to learn that knowing your audience is key, and that when appropriate, don’t hold back…speak what needs to be spoken…which is most of the time.

And, now I see all these celebrities being interviewed and they have nothing but glowing remembrances of Robin. Jeff Bridges, who starred with Robin in The Fisher King actually took several minutes at the big press panel for his new movie to remember his time with Robin. Watching him turn around and look at Meryl Streep and fondly recall Robin dragging his ass on the ground in Central Park at 4am saying “You know why dogs do this? Because they can!” was incredible. And, over his other shoulder was Taylor Swift with a look like “I am never ever ever ever doing a press panel with this guy again.” (if you get that joke then good for you.)

Someone in New York should organize this as an annual event. The annual “Robin Williams Because They Can Central Park Naked Ass Drag.” How awesome would that be to see 100,000 people all dragging their asses like dogs in the grass.

It reminded me of my Grandfather’s funeral…not the naked ass dragging (seriously…you thought those two were connected…what’s wrong with you?)…the people all coming out with amazing remembrances. I was a teenager, and to me a funeral was a family thing. And, then all these people showed up. And, I thought, uh…my family isn’t that big…or someone’s been lying to me. But, there they were. People I had never seen before in my life that all knew and or were touched by my grandfather in some way (not like that…get your head out of the gutter).

And, now Robin. People he didn’t even know, like me, are talking about how he touched them. Assuming that you aren’t a complete douche bag, you attempt to make your mark on this world while hopefully leaving it a slightly better place. If you are a total douche, please just leave…now…go…I’ll wait.

Robin made the world a better place. Dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire, he walked into a sex shop and tried to buy a double headed dildo…just because. He made us look at the world around us with a slightly different perspective…warped…or not. He made us laugh.

THAT is immortality.