This has been a weird few weeks.
There have been three strange and unexpected deaths in my little corner of the world lately. I'm not as death-obsessed as Woody Allen, but I must admit I think about the subject probably more than I should. And these recent losses don't help.
How do we deal with death? We can ignore it, deny it, run from it, or try to make peace with it.
Or we can do what Keith Richards, that indestructible icon of excess, did.
"I snorted my father,” Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME. “He was cremated, and I couldn’t resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn’t have cared,” he said, adding that “it went down pretty well, and I’m still alive.”
Richards' father died in 2002 at age 84.
Like I said, a weird few weeks.