If Michael Jackson's music evokes happier times in my life, then Farrah Fawcett evokes scenes of death by fiery retribution.
"I'll never pick on girls again!", I said wide-eyed.
It was 1984. My mom and I had just finished watching the world premiere of "The Burning Bed" on TV. It definitely left an impression, and permanently changed my attitude toward women. Which is why, I suspect, she let me stay up past my bedtime to watch it.
Good on her.
Its star, Farrah Fawcett, lost her battle with cancer yesterday.
Rest in Peace, Farrah.
See also: Mr. C!
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