A sad end to that '70s Show!

As a child of the '70s, the Saint is somewhat saddened by today's news over the sudden demise of both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
Both were icons of the 1970s. The decade that taste forgot - as someone so cruelly, but accurately once opined.
However, the Jackson 5 - in which young Mick was the undisputed star; and Charlie's Angels - where Farrah Fawcett and her hair-do ruled supreme; were both iconic and powerful representations of that particular decade for me and my peers.
What 70's child - particularly of the male persuasion - will ever forget Farah's permanent sun-kissed look and how she made red swimsuits oh so sexy. Or our pangs of envy and jealousy over her marriage to another 1970's super star - and all-round lucky bugger - the Six Million dollar man Lee Majors.
Or what about the endless debates over the respective musical abilities of the Jackson 5 versus the toothy Osmond Family. And especially the talents of the gifted Michael over the sickly and sarine Donny! (Mind you Marie was quite hot, but no where near the smoking hotness of Farrah Fawcett's Jill from Charlies Angels!).
Somehow both the Fabulous Farrah and the Mercurial Michael were apt symbols for the superficiality of the 1970s, when both were at the peak of their fame - although MJ's run also went through most of the 80s and some of the 90s as well.
Sadly, they both became examples of what not to do when you have fame and money, and unwittingly ended up as parodies of the celebrity-worshipping culture that the 1970s began.
The lovely Farrah never really regained her 70s demi-god status after walking out on Charlie and the other Angels in the latter part of the decade. Her reputation was not helped much by making a host of bad, made-for-TV movies. Or ditching the bionic man and taking up with washed-up, serial cheat Ryan O'Neal. The only thing she appeared to ever successfully do with O'Neal was produce acres of tabloid headlines and a loser, druggie of a son called Redmond.
Meanwhile, Michael Jackson left his four siblings behind to embark on a hugely successful musical career, that set the standard for others in the industry to aspire to. Yet his clearly eccentric life and kiddy fiddling habits also helped keep the tabloids in business. Unfortunately the Prince of Pop ended up having more plastic surgery than most of California's Hollywood set put together, which left him looking like a 50 year-old, freaky and weird-looking, pedophile - which is ironically exactly how he ended up!
I guess both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson are good reasons why we should not put people - especially so-called celebrities - up on pedestals, as they more than likely will come crashing down and bring our dreams with with them.
Still, the Saint can look back on the 70s with warm memories - despite the passing of these two icons. He can be thankful that not all his innocent childhood illusions from this period have being totally shattered. Which would be the case if say Colonel Hogan from Hogan's Heroes was ever found murdered in a seedy motel, following a kinky sex hookup or if they discovered Kane from Kung Fu hanging dead in a Bangkok hotel room with a rope around his dick.
Now that really would be just too much - eh Grasshopper!