Actually, it IS Rocket Science



The once and future McQueen

In lieu of doing backflips in discussion of  The Royal Wedding, I guess I’ll throw a bone in its general direction by addressing an instance that plays into the 6 degrees of separation from it.  Follow me, if you will:  Some wedding went down recently that got more publicity than the inauguration; the bride’s dress got more publicity than the Oscars; the dress’ designer, Sarah Burton, got more publicity than the Fukushima Reactor; Sarah Burton works for the late Alexander McQueen line; The Most Brilliant Person Alive, mentioned before here, once addressed Alexander McQueen’s passing with me; I fully intend on having a marriage one day which garners more publicity than the inauguration, the Oscars, and the Fukushima reactor combined (totally do-able).  AND WE’VE COME FULL CIRCLE.

MBPA:  Did you hear?  Alexander McQueen died!

Ashlin:  Yeah, I heard.  Pretty crummy.

MBPA:  Do you know how it happened?

Ashlin:  He killed himself, didn’t he?

MBPA:  He DID?!

Ashlin:  Yeah.  Makes it even worse, doesn’t it?  I can’t imagine how depressed he must have been to have done that.

MBPA:  That’s sad.

Ashlin:  I know.

MBPA:  I mean …If you kill yourself, it means you don’t like yourself. … …Very much.

Ashlin: … … …(oh holy henry)

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