Today Jeff Conaway died. I don’t think it came as much of shock to most people.
Except maybe “Dr.” Drew Pinsky who probably considered Jeff a back pocket fill-in for
exploitation treatment on future seasons of Celebrity Rehab.
If he were in a crunch.
But it’s not his death or the sad turn his life took that I wish to focus on. I’m much more intrigued with the manner in which he left us. The mini-circus that will forever be his final legacy.
When news first broke that Jeff was comatose in a hospital, we all thought the same thing — drugs. Even his manager, the great Phil Brock, he went straight to the papers and gave interviews in great detail about how it was on OD…that Jeff was struggling with sobriety…Jeff was a sad, troubled man.
Turns out it was pneumonia. Albeit aggravated by drugs. But pneumonia nonetheless.
What kind of a manager is this Phil Brock? Charlie Sheen destroys a hotel room, threatens a woman who then locks herself in the bathroom to save her life and when the cops arrive he begins to shout the n-word over and over and over. We all thought the same thing — drugs. But we were wrong again. According to Stan Rosenfeld, Sheen’s (then) PR maestro, it was an allergic reaction to medication.
Last year when Lyndsay Lohan stole a necklace from a Venice jewelry store she was simply “borrowing it.” Lindsay was also borrowing the pair of pants police found cocaine in when she was arrested back in 2007. (Need a new PR person Lyndsay…call Stan he’s good.)
My point is, a simple “No comment” would suffice. Or the always excellent, if somewhat banal, “The family asks for privacy at this time.”
But no. Phil jumped right on the O.D. bandwagon. How about you give the doctors a call next time?
Sorry you left us this way.