Robin Williams has passed away at age 63. It looks like suicide.
Few things make me more upset than when a genius dies. Having George Carlin die was bad enough. This is worse, since I grew up with Robin Williams.
Williams was the funniest man in the world. John Cleese and Bill Murray probably tie for second place, but no one was funnier, over the course of his entire career, than Robin Williams.
Since I was a kid, and all the way through my teenage years and adulthood, I watched every single stand up routine he did that was televised in any way. I saw him on stage in person twice. His humor was psychotic as it was perfect.
He was also one of the most skilled entertainers in history. As a public speaker I studied much of his technique. Most people don’t know that he rehearsed and memorized upwards of 150 bits as responses to anything that might happen during his performance, so he could immediately deliver them as if they were ad-libbed. If there was a distant police siren, a bald guy in the audience, or a woman with a big coat, he had immediate and hilarious responses for all of those things.
Unlike when Philip Seymour Hoffman died, I completely understand Williams’ death. Williams was a crazy genius, and harcore geniuses like this live very difficult lives. With all the drugs, alcohol, depression, and other issues he fought throughout his entire life, it’s somewhat impressive he hadn’t died before this.
I hate this.
Oh well. Death is a part of life and all that. Doesn’t make me feel better though.