Recently we've had two celebrity comedians leave us, both seemingly before their time. The ironic part is that whenever a celebrity dies, the discussion of death roars to life. News articles come out about how the person died and what we can do to become more aware of a way to prevent that from happening to someone else in the future, specifically like with Robin Williams' suicide or Joan Rivers heart attack during surgery. But we can't really prevent death; we can only postpone it, kind of like when Windows shuts down to install new updates. We know windows has to shut down, but can it be four hours from now? I'm watching a thing (porn).

Death and comedy go hand in hand. Read these phrases below.

"He killed tonight." "OMG! He's so funny, I died." "He slayed 'em."

See? People can't even talk about me without mentioning death in a figurative sense. But it's playful because it means something good. It would be bad if an audience actually died. So bad for business. And it's bad when a comedian dies. So bad for business. (My editor wrote that one.)

But why do we care so much if we really didn't know the person? That is the problem with the topic of celebrity. Celebrity causes us to think that we know people we don't actually know. That's how I'm friends with Jimmy Fallon, even though he only signed my book in passing, and has never acknowledged my presence in any way, despite numerous twitter attempts. (I'd gladly prefer a retweet over a restraining order any day.)

The cool thing is that we don't have to forget the celebrity that has died. I mean, my YouTube queue is full of Joan Rivers clips, and I will watch them as soon as I finish all of Robin Williams's clips. So you should do the same. Celebrate the life of the dead and be thankful that you have the ability to. Because life is kind of fragile and could end at any time. So seize the day. Live it up and have a good week.