"The Stars Just Don't Seem As Bright As They Used To..."

Here’s one for your Ipod.

“Is That All There Is?”

Peggy Lee.

Arranged by Randy Newman.

You’ll be able to find it in the vocalist and/or easy listening section of ITunes or Rhapsody or your download megamart of choice.

I have only lately come to fully appreciate the sentiment.

In a nutshell, it comes down to this.

That which we think is important in life almost always turns out not to be.
And that which we haven’t given much thought to turns out to be important.

But, either way, you should make every effort to find the joy.

The song popped into my head this morning when I read this little blurb from an Internet celeb gossip site.

Sitting down?

'Cause you'll want to be when you hear what I have to say.

A major character on a show we are obsessed with will commit suicide before the season is over -- and no one will see it coming. The shocking death will send shockwaves through the show and the fallout will be immense.

Spoilerphobes may want to hit the nearest exit, because I'm about to give you a hint...

I learned of this death after I compiled my 2009 season-ending

death chart, so it is not reflected on there. And it may never be. It's a DEFCON 1 spoiler, so I'm proceeding with the utmost caution. I may, at some point between now and when the episode airs, stealthily update the chart with this catastrophic development.

Or I may not. Just to be safe, you may want to refresh the page at least once a day.

In the meantime, let's get those guesses flowing in the comments section. Just to recap what we know:

• Major character

• Major show

• Not featured in death chart

Let the speculation begin…

Oh, and to my many sources/friends/family/EW bosses, don't waste your time grilling me for extra clues. This blind item's staying blind. For now at least.

I confess my first knee jerk reaction was “puh-leeze…”

Who gives a shit?

Then I realized that I was simply manifesting another symptom of the metamorphosis from open minded, free spirited energetically idealistic youth..

…to my father.

Because I have, for almost as long as I can remember, enjoyed the whole “show biz pop culture” thing.

From surreptitiously flipping through the movie mags that Mom used to bring home through my primary school years as supplemented by a monthly dose of Alfred E. Neumann through Entertainment Tonight in the days when Mary Hart was even chirpier than she is now and John Tesh was her numero dos (Yes, young Skywalkers, THAT John Tesh.) and right on up to the WWW dot days that allow me to share my ramblings here with you when the mood strikes.

And most of my professional life has been tied to the whole celebrity thing in one way or another, be it songwriters, singers or the celebs that I chat up and about during the radio shows that I have produced/hosted.

So, I brought myself up short and told me that looking down my nose at celeb gossip at this point in my life was a little bit like Rush Limbaugh not having much use for conservatives.

The pot and the kettle and all that.

What I also discovered, though, was that although I have what I think is a pretty clear understanding of what it is we find attractive about this kind of stuff (it’s a potpourri, if you will, of misery loves company, distraction from our trials and tribulations, genetically predisposed voyeurism and vicarious living, thanks for asking), I find that this kind of stuff simply doesn’t float my boat all that much anymore.

Celebrities in extramarital affairs, in and out of rehab, in and out of the tabloids, marrying this one, divorcing that one, characters on TV shows coming, going, loving, cheating, living, dying.

And now taking a header somewhere.

Is that all there is?

On my down days, it bothers me that it bothers me.

Because there’s nothing that makes you feel older than recognizing those things where once you found depth are, and have always been, superficial.

On the up days, it pleases me that I apparently have finally come to a place where the foolish pursuits of youth are being slowly but surely supplanted with a more mature and worthwhile expenditure of whatever grains are left me in the hourglass.

The slowly but surely thing occasionally accelerated by things like Natasha Richardson taking a “harmless “ little tumble and then shuffling off the coil all within a matter of minutes.

Those “life is short” moments are annoying little buggers, aren’t they?

And trust me when I tell you that the longer you live, the more those kind of moments are going to shove you closer to that more mature and worthwhile expenditure thing and away from really caring, one way or another, which TV star is about to insert head into oven.

That said, I still find myself drawn to the sublimely superficial.

And, as a child reared by the light of the tube, curious as to who’s about to exit, stage right.

I’m kind of hoping for Elizabeth Hasselbeck.

But I know better.

Whoever it turns out to be, one question will remain, in this life, forever unanswered.

Is that all there is?