We've lost a lot of wonderful people in the last year. A quick search tells me that the following stars are now gone:
Cyd Charisse, Heath Ledger, Dee Dee Warwick, Estelle Getty, Yves Saint-Laurent, Jerry Wexler, Isaac Hayes, Gary Gygax, Bo Diddly, Charlton Heston, Arthur C. Clarke and the man who invented the Egg McMuffin.
The story that's sticking in my mind at the moment, though, is that of Jennifer Hudson, whose family has just been slaughtered. I can't imagine what that must be like for her.
Perhaps today's a good day to think about who our personal saints might be, rather than just the long-dead mystics of previous eras, torn apart on wheels of torture, lashed to a tree and shot, eyes torn out, crucified and otherwise brutally martyred. The children of London who shoot and stab one another when they could be crocheting doilies, for instance, or the kings of comedy shot to death for making a tired joke that harmed the reputation of a Satanic Slut dancer.
Who would you canonise today?