Celebrities Must Stay Inside for the Time Being

This week hasn't been kind to the stars. Losing David Bowie was hard enough for Dish, but Alan Rickman, too? Then just this morning, Celine Dion's husband, René Angélil, who discovered her at age 12, also lost his battle with cancer. You know what? Fuck cancer.

How to lift one's spirits after these losses?

Google Gwen and Blake, which I've done. Do a few puzzles--also done. Eat a vanilla kreme donut, yes. Think about how these stars made our lives better. That's easy to do.

I'm insanely lucky that I got to see David Bowie in concert in 1990--the best artist I've ever seen. He created on a different plane from all the rest. Twice, I saw Alan Rickman turn a so-so play on Broadway into something captivating. He was hot, hot, hot as anything he wanted to be--Snape, Colonel Brandon, the crappy husband in Love Actually. And I'm thankful René Angélil found Celine Dion because in 1998, that freaking song "My Heart Will Go On," well, it coaxed a few tears from Dish during a potent Titanic phase (for which I'm ashamed since it is one of the shittiest movies of all time). Also "New Day" was one of my anthems after a particularly awful year.

Our hearts will go on, but they're a little heavier.

And now to watch the hot mess that is the Republican debate, where there are plenty of candidates I'd rather see vanish. I shouldn't say that, should I?  No apologies here. Life is short!