Photo, Melanie Dunea: Anthony Bourdain's Last Supper
Why would Anthony Bourdain do such a thing? I thought. He's a man's man; a Dean Martin type, living the life that every man would love to live. He had a beautiful wife, a lovely daughter and a kick-ass job. What more can a man want out of life?
Right. What more can a man ask for?
Apparently, there was something else Bourdain could not have. The perfect life. From the outside looking in, Bourdain seemed to have it all. Both, while on travel shooting episodes, and in his personal life, Bourdain seemed to be on top of the world. Successful. Invincible. Happy.
What more can a man ask for?
So now what?
Fuck if I know. We could get into Sigmund Freud's theory of life and death instincts, Eros and Thanatos. That would be reasonable conjecture, considering Bourdain's outlook on life, which to me seemed a bit on the dark side. But heck, who am I to judge? We all tend to have a dark side and frankly, that dark side was the allure for many of us.
Bourdain, by all accounts was a no-nonsense, no bullshit, take-no-prisoners kind of writer. I can't remember him sugar-coating anything, ever. And I loved that about him. Whether that was his television persona, or part of his true personality, Anthony Bourdain was engaging in a way that most TV personalities were not.
The Church of Anthony Bourdain . . .
Like most viewers, I had a boner for this show. I think Anthony Bourdain had the biggest boner of all (don't let that photo fool you.) but regrettably not forever. Sometimes, too much of a good thing is well, not a good thing. And so it seems that Anthony Bourdain wanted to go out on top of his game. You know, king of the hill, sort of thing.
Maybe his biggest fear
was how to top himself professionally . . .
Maybe his biggest fear was how to top himself professionally or that he might fail in some way as a father or a husband. Maybe he wanted to retire to enjoy more time with his family but didn't want to disappoint his colleagues with a pink slip. Quite a conundrum, indeed. Yet, nothing worthy of this final outcome.
Initially, I was saddened by the news of Bourdain's death by suicide. In a way, I still don't believe he took his own life and that something was amiss because his death does not add up. Maybe it's just wishful thinking because most of us want to believe that Anthony Bourdain would rather keep his most fabulous life and that someone else, out of revenge or jealousy, snuffed it out for him.
Pure speculation, of course. Although (this blog-post notwithstanding) conspiracy theorists are out there spinning their tales of doom and gloom.
Fast-forward weeks since this tragic event and my sadness has turned into outrage, anger towards Bourdain, and ultimately, indifference. Who cares? He was just an ordinary man. It was just a show. There are plenty more to choose from; I think.
God only knows the shit-show
you were really living behind the scenes.
Am I being selfish because one of my favorite shows is over and one of my favorite television personalities is gone and now I can no longer enjoy Bourdain's witty anecdotes, exotic locations, and raw humor? Is the American Dream so horrible that we must now reject it by suicide? Can we no longer aspire to greatness?
Heck, now I have to rearrange all my favorite channels and TV shows too. What a headache that's going to be. Shit, I've even burned my collectible copy of Kitchen Confidential.
Thanks for nothing Mr. Bourdain. You've certainly managed to dim our hope for happiness in one fell swoop.
God only knows the shit-show you were really living behind the scenes. And so you did what anyone else in your shoes would do. You quit on yourself, and you quit on us. Really?
Nice going. And all because you got tired of living such a fabulous life.
How dare you, Anthony Bourdain!
How dare you.
R.I.P.
