Filed under: Beanstockd
Natasha Richardson, blue-blooded thespian of stage and film, passed away this Wednesday from what seemed an inconsequential tumble on the bunny slopes of Mont Tremblant. Autopsy reports conclude the fall caused an epidural hematoma (translation: blood clot) that would rapidly swell and compress her brain in the hours that followed. Her sudden passing has re-ignited debate over helmet regulations and sheds light on Quebec’s fatal lack of air ambulances.(Roger this: We suggest as alternatives these green ski resorts. Sans pollution, avec chopper rescue.)
Amidst tearful farewells and a Broadway tribute, friends and family express shock and grief in equal measure as they recall her anomalous, irreplaceable presence. Lindsay Lohan, whom Richardson worked with at the height of Lohan’s illustrious career, put her mud-wrestling session on hold to comment:“She was a wonderful woman and actress and treated me like I was her own,” adding, “I wish she was my real mommy because Dina Lohan is a whore and keeps stealing from my Monistat collection.” Okay, so we took a little comedic license with that quote, but you know as well as we do that she was thinking that.
You are missed already, Natasha. Despite life’s paper-thin fragility, the legacy of yours will be for the ages.
Irene, Shih Spoke
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