The assassination of JFK. The death of Lady Di. The capsizing of the Titanic. The fall of Rome. All of us remember exactly where we were when these momentous events occurred. Even if we weren’t born yet. Last week, we sadly added one more dark day to that list.
The words ‘irreconcilable differences’ were the harbingers of our misery as we learnt that Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt were getting a divorce. Terrorism, Trump, global warming, Duterte, famine; there are a lot of horrible things going on in this world right now, but the demise of Brangelina is by far the worst.
The coupling of those two perfect angels was the one truly good thing in a dire universe. And now they have been uncoupled. Consciously. Mercilessly. Damn you to Hell, universe.
Brad and Angelina—the words are musical when you say them together. So many ‘a’ sounds. It was obvious when the two of them met in 2005 while working as secret agents that they were destined to be together, probably forever.
Brad has officially been the most handsome man in the world ever since his brief appearance in Thelma and Louise in 1991. He was the reason women everywhere left their husbands to go on ill-fated road trips, just for the slight chance they might get sexed by a rugged highwayman of his ilk.
And from the moment Angelina sprung forth from the loins of Jon Voight, it was obvious no other earthly woman could ever match her beauty. She actually made an idealised, male-fantasy video game character, Lara Croft, hotter in real life when she played her on the big screen. Teenage boys lost their shit.
When the pair met, Brad was dating some B-grade TV actress and Angelina had been through a string of questionable relationships with, among others, Sick Boy from Trainspotting, Billy Bob Thornton and her brother. She saved him. He saved her. They saved each other.
Hollywood had a collective orgasm. Here was the greatest power couple since Anthony and Cleopatra. We all bowed down before their exquisiteness.
Immediately they showed themselves to be of sublime disposition as well as appearance, adopting little children from all over the planet. At last count, they had more than 100 little tykes under their roof.
Angelina became president of the UN, while Brad carried off a series of audacious heists with a bunch of his charming friends. We loved them SO MUCH.
And then, last week, we asked not for whom the bell tolled, because it tolled for all of us. Brangelina was suddenly extinct. And the world no longer had light. Nothing had purpose.
So how are we expected to continue with our puny, wretched lives when the one thing that matters, the only thing that ever mattered, is now exanimate?
Samuel Beckett wrote: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”
The human spirit endures. The brightest light in our little galaxy of stars has been extinguished, but instead of succumbing to oblivion, we must simply go on.
If this is still not enough, if the crushing feeling of helplessness continues to grow, remember this one thing: We still have Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddy Prinze Jr.
Image credit: Daily Dot