Let's Talk About Death

Don't Be Coy, Avoid or Make Void the Topic

Russian actress Kamilla Belyatskaya swept away to her death by a giant wave while meditating on yoga mat on cliffside beauty spot, the nypost.com headline proclaims.

Ms. Belyatskaya’s death may qualify her for a Darwin Award. The judges bestow the accolade upon nominees whose stupidity benefits the human race (by removing them from the gene pool).

The actress’ Darwinian accreditation depends on whether or not she was stupid or unlucky.

Authorities in Koh Samui, Thailand had red-flagged nearby beaches as unsafe for swimming. Even so and in any case, the Monsoon season sea was calm. Right until it wasn’t.

So it’s safe to assume the comely Russki was heedless rather than gormless (Brit-speak for people too stupid to know they’re stupid).

Even if Ms. Belyatskaya had died from a lack of intelligence, it seems pretty clear she had something valuable to add to the gene pool.

Cold Cold Cold

Some may call me cold-hearted for disregarding the grief experienced by Ms. Belyatskaya’s friends, family and masturbating admirers. Ding me for failing to respect the sanctity of human life. After all…

Every life is precious. We all have something of value to add to the human race (at least potentially).

Dissing the dead for dying from bravado, ignorance or arrogance is callous and condescending. Especially when it’s served-up with a soupçon of schadenfreude.

In my defense, I belong to a religion/culture with a long, painful history of suffering: discrimination, deportation, torture and extermination.

Like all good Jews, I live by The Golden Rule: you don’t cut funny. To cope with life’s vicissitudes, we need funny.

Same goes for the 67m Brits faced with piss-poor customer service, sky-high taxes, Seasonally Adjusted Disorder and a story about a Russian pinup on a pink yoga mat meditating moments before being swept to sea. That’s why they say…

You Gotta Laff Mate!

Speaking of the Brits’ fatalistic sense of humor, William “Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune” Shakespeare nailed it: the reason some of us are amused by examples of D’oh! death.

There’s nothing funnier than getting hoisted by your own petard (“hoisted” meaning blown to smithereens by an explosive device that you set to attack your enemies).

It’s especially funny when the self-inflicted serious injury/death is unexpected (by its victim) and unintentional, despite obvious (if not to them) risks.

That’s the formula that makes Darwin Awards a laugh riot.

An east Alabama man was killed in a drunken game of catch with a live rattlesnake. Another man was hospitalized.

The men told emergency personnel that they had starting drinking after a day of farm work. They got drunk and started playing with a snake they found.

Cleburne Emergency Medical Service medic Skipper Bailey said the men would catch the snake by the tail, let it go and catch it again.

"Then the snake got tired of being caught by the tail," he said.

Given the amount of death-dealing redneck ridiculousness, I reckon the Darwin Awards should have a "Hold My Beer” category.

Death Be Not Proud

No matter where you live, being frightened or at least aware of the possibility of death is mission critical.

Again, so is laughing at death. Fearing death too much for too long is stressful enough to give anyone a heart attack.

To avoid a coronary conclusion, I say “I may be gone some time” when heading to the men’s room, channeling frostbitten Antarctic explorer Captain Oates’ last words before he left his tent for certain death.

When facing the risk of expiring in strange circumstances, I imagine how my daughters would answer if someone asked how their father died.

“The cast iron piano plate he hung on the wall fell on him while he was playing chess. Check mate.”

Say the Magic Word

Monster truck aside, most gentiles don’t joke about The Grim Reaper. More than that, they pray they die peacefully in their sleep.

Sure, but… we have no way of knowing if a person dying in their sleep wakes-up just before expiring, alone and terrified.

By the same token, many people take comfort if someone dies “doing what they loved to do.”

I bet some people saw the Insta-friendly contentment on Ms. Belyatskaya’s face seconds before she was swept to sea and thought just that.

Yes, well, the Russian beauty spent her last moments on Earth drowning. While I’m told it’s a relatively quick and painless death, that’s like saying herpes is OK because it’s better than IBS.

I hope Ms. Belyatskaya died with a smile on her face, amused by the unintentional irony of her yoga-initiated exit from the land of the living.

As for me, I‘m down with Jewish comedian and cigar smoker Groucho Marx. I intend to live forever. Or die trying.