Why it’s good when celebrities kill themselves



When rich, famous and successful celebrities kill themselves it exposes, in the most brutal and ultimate form, the utterly abhorrent hollowness of our greed soaked materialistic culture… a culture that encourages and celebrates the very things that even those who attain them don’t end up caring about.

No wonder we are so devastatingly fucked and falling apart.

It is a very odd and – somehow – opaquely obvious dilemma we all exist in. We are raised with the idea that succeeding in life will make us happy and fulfilled, and, that, if you can have great wealth and fame too, then, well, you’ve hit the jackpot. It’s odd because, we have all experienced some relative success in life, and we’ve all attained a material  desire… but we have all also witnessed first hand how quickly the pleasure of that success or attainment disappears. And, yet, rather than question this compulsion to fulfil our desires over and over and over, we merely set about the pursuit of the next goal, attainment (or not), and its corresponding fading  of fulfilment.


Such oddness is further compounded because, if this ideology was indeed correct and worthwhile then, the logical outcome would be that the millionaires, billionaires, rock stars and Hollywood elite should be overflowing with endless, unbound joy and bliss. After all, they won the game of pinnacle success and bank balance… these are the ones who have ‘everything’ that – it seems – almost every other human being on the planet is drooling and raping for… and, yet, they are so obviously not any happier than any of us. We see their faces everywhere – lives lived as bacteria under microscope – and, whilst they may not struggle to pay the bills, we don’t have to walk past a newsstand with our parents to see our fat arse – caught in a moment of perfect wobble – splattered across the front of a magazine.

Now, my arse has decent proportions and remains firm into my thirties, but I’d still rather be counting my pennies and buying second hand underpants than know that my rear-end is the spectacle and amusement of the millions. And, when a rich, successful, famous so and so kills themselves – even though they have EVERYTHING that most of the world are clamouring for – it exposes (in theory) the complete and utter depraved sham of it all.



Death is not a tragedy. Death is a very normal and natural occurrence, including brutal deaths and including deaths ‘before their time’. Since life began on this planet, every single moment since has been marked by death. There is never a moment that passes where a living being does not die. We are all already dead. We are born to die. Our lives are but a fleeting process of decay. We all know this, and yet cling so, so tightly to these little stories of ours.

I don’t know what bigger picture we all belong to… if there even is one. But I know that I’d rather live 30 worthwhile years making a difference to the world and helping my fellow human beings than live for 80 years in vapid self interest. I know that I’d rather belong to a vast mosaic of human evolution where every piece of the puzzle has its value and purpose than struggle as an aborting island.

It seems futile to bemoan what has happened and what is inevitable to happen. Death will continue with its merry method, and I’d rather make sense of the senseless – even if that means creating meaning through magical thinking – by recognising how each moment and each event can, if perceived, contribute to a higher and wider good than boo and sob my way through – what is and can only be in this world – a myriad of un-savouries.

But this little demon still lives

In this sense, and from this perspective, I can be glad for all and everything, knowing that, at least within myself, all and everything can be used for the benefit and evolution of humanity as a species, including the suicides of people who are heroes and inspirations to me.


So, as brutal as it is for those around them to suffer the loss of a loved one, it’s not overall a bad thing. However, what is overall a bad thing are ideologies and cultures. Look at what materialism has done to our planet and to our species. We will literally go to war and kill each other to have more and better material things. We will literally destroy the very environment we need just to make garden furniture. And that’s just the big things.

The trickle down effect from these cultural ideas is insidious and deeply harmful in the most subtle ways and yet on a colossal scale. If exposing this nonsense requires that a few figureheads and winners kill themselves, then so be it. If a superstar celebrity  killing themselves – or just generally being unhappy – makes people question and think about ideas that impact billions rather than a few immediate family members, then crack on, please. We can call it collateral damage, or a noble sacrifice, but it will be worth it if it helps end this madness.