Well, I’m not choosing him, but he was a lot more than just Bill on News Radio. He was, perhaps, Saturday Night Live’s best talent. He was a genuinely funny person and he had a great reputation of being a nice guy.
I, however, would perhaps save Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley. Both died from their own doings and I blame both of them for their part, but I’m a bit greedy and I really wanted more Nirvana and Alice in Chains albums.*
I also might keep Tolkien alive long enough to write some more Lord of the Rings literature.
I am aware AIC is releasing a new album, but I Layne was a huge part of that band.
If not, it’d be J.R.R. Tolkien. And I’d pay all his bills and offer him a comfy secluded English country house somewhere with a steno pool so that he could write, or dictate, on and on and on…
Farther back, Edgar Allen Poe, Vincent van Gogh and Lord Byron all died too soon.
I’d go with Lennon. Genuine talent, his influence went beyond just entertainment, he appeared to be poised on the brink of some major new work, and his death was not self-inflicted.
If somebody else saved Lennon and I was making an original pick, I’d go with Adrienne Shelly. All the usual reasons plus her death was so pointless.
Fourthing or fifthing Phil Hartman. I think he’s the celebrity whose death most disturbed me, and continues to disturb me. He wasn’t just ‘annoying’ as Bill McNeal, he was awesomely annoying and genius and sympathetic and frustrating and hilarious as Bill. Plus all his work on The Simpsons, of course.
Though John Lennon and JFK would be very close.
Oh I just thought of a good one. If I could prevent David Angell’s death by preventing 9/11, I’ll work with that. Then 3K other people would be saved too, so I get the biggest bang for my buck.
I second the motion. Is it awful to say I was ticked off with him a little, when he died? If he’d gone and got treatment for his pneumonia earlier he might still be with us. One of the very few celebrities of any sort that I shed a tear for when he died. I mean, I get sad when I hear of the death of someone whose work I admire, but I almost never cry, even a little bit.
Brilliantly talented singer and songwriter - the equal of Elvis Costello (and I don’t think Elvis would disagree with this assessment). Had just released an excellent album and was vacationing in Mexico, she was scuba diving with her sons. A rich, drunken idiot piloted a speedboat into the dive area. Kirsty died pushing her son out of the path of the boat.
Every time this subject comes up, I mention her. I think the combination of an incandescent talent, cut short in the prime of life and dying in a heroic way to save the life of a child tops anything else I’ve heard.
Heck, if we’re going back in time then I’d talk that vaginal life support system into squeezing out a couple of Michael Jackon’s kids in leu of Lennon. If that screws up the time continuum then I’d at least convince her to do a bikini shave before doing any album covers.
