R.I.P. … EVERYONE?

What the hell is going on here in 2005? Just 51 days in, not even at the end of February and people keep dying. Johnny Carson, Phillip Johnson, Ossie Davis, Arthur Miller … now just this weekend Sandra Dee, John Raitt and suddenly announced last night, Hunter S. Thompson have all died as well. And I’m sure I’m probably forgetting someone just as notable, just as important as many of these others.

Dee died Sunday apparently of kidney disease at the anything-but-ancient age of 62. More people who great up in the ’70s and ’80s (or later) probably know about Dee than actually saw her movies if only from the song “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee” from the musical Grease! Dee was the original Gidget, epitomizing the perky, blond, Southern California beach-bound teenager so popular in ’50s and early ’60s entertainment. She also showed that she actually had some acting chops playing Lana Turner‘s daughter in the great Douglas Sirk melodrama Imitation of Life. In the early ’60s, Dee was one of the most popular teenage stars in Hollywood. If MTV had been around in 1960 when at 18 years old Dee married Bobby Darin, they would have most certainly been the first Newlyweds. (Hopefully, Nick and Jessica won’t suffer quite as much as Sandra and Bobby did, especially since Darin tragically died so young.) Of course, that story was just told by Kevin Spacey in his recent biopic of Darin, Beyond the Sea, with Kate Bosworth playing Dee. And in case you’re wondering, no Sandra Dee was not her birth name. Apparently, she came into this world Alexandra Zuck.

Also better known to the current younger generation for something other than what truly made him famous, 88 year old John Raitt also died on Sunday. Many know Raitt primarily as the father of musician Bonnie Raitt, but he had a successful career as an actor in his own right, especially in the theater. While mass audiences may remember his role in The Pajama Game, he made his Broadway debut creating one of the greatest characters in the history of the American musical theater, Billy Bigelow in Rogers & Hammerstein’s Carousel. His booming voice on the original cast recording, especially during the heart-wrenching Act I closing song “Soliloquy,” is enough to give you chills even without seeing the accompanying performance.

But the most tragic of Sunday’s deaths must be the apparent suicide of legendary writer and oft-called “gonzo journalist” Hunter S. Thompson. The 67 year old Thompson apparently shot himself in the head, marking another suicide by a noted, iconic and unique literary voice who many have often tried to copy but few ever get right. (Instantly, Spaulding Gray’s suicide last year came to mind.) It’s impossible not to wonder how the ridiculous amount of drugs Thompson took through the years might have contributed to him ultimately deciding to kill himself. Doctors will say that certain drugs, especially most hallucinogenics, literally change brain chemistry permanently, and while many create a europhic feeling when on them, they also can likely lead to extreme bouts of depression. Thompson was a brilliant writer with a unique voice, admired (even worshipped) by many and continuing to influence new generations who get a hold of his works. It’s easy for us to ask, “What could have been so bad?”

Look, I know the Oscars are this Sunday, and they’ll do their usual “In memoriam” tribute, but people this is ridiculous. They’ll do it next year too. No reason for anybody to rush just to try to be edited in to this year’s film clip. Please … no more dying for a while, OK? That whole “happens in threes” thing is supposed to take like a week, and then have several months off. Three in one day, that’s just too much and too hard to process. Too bad Family Guy Peter can’t take over Death’s job for a bit again.