Heath Ledger died yesterday. Oh, I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised anymore when a young, good-looking, up-and-coming star finds a way to kill himself. Owen Wilson tried, and failed. Kurt Cobain tried and succeeded. The surprising thing is the speed at which the denials starting flowing. “It wasn’t suicide. It was an accidental overdose.”

OK, I have sleeping pills around my house. I have a LOT of prescription medications, primarily allergy medications, but some Advil PM and some Nyquil and some cough syrup. I KNOW what the prescribed dosages are. There ain’t no way I’m taking 5x or 10x the prescribed dosage. In fact, any time someone takes more pills than are recommended, you can make a reasonable argument that they must not care about their health.

An adult can’t “accidentally overdose”. It’s a conscious choice. He CHOSE to take those drugs. He CHOSE to possibly drink alcohol with those drugs. Ledger fans seem to want to glorify his passing, like it’s some kind of tragedy that a self-indulgent, rich, pampered actor killed himself. It’s not a tragedy.

He. Killed. Himself.

The simple reality is that this doesn’t change my life (or probably your life) one iota. If it does change your life, that says more about your life than it does about Heath Ledger’s death. At the most, it almost guarantees that “The Dark Knight” will be the top summer film. At the least, it just adds 72 points to someone’s Celebrity Death Pool.

Focus on your own life, people.