KABOOM! Robin Williams burned Kim Kardashian so hard on Twitter! LOLOLOL! Ouch. Sucks 2 be Kim. I suppose one could also make the argument that it sucks to be a full grown, 61-year-old man taking pot shots at a woman half his age on social media for the clothes that she wore while seven months pregnant. You know, that too. I’m not saying it wasn’t a KILLER burn. Such a good burn. OH BEHAVE! Wait, no, that’s Austin Powers. But you get the idea. So fun and funny. We should all be so lucky when we are Robin Williams’s age to be able to just have so much FUN with stuff, you know? Go crazy, enjoy it, YOLO. Personally, as a 54-year-old man, I am looking forward to the peace and presence of mind that I expect the next 10 years to bring. At a certain point, I imagine a life for myself in which the constant need for attention and validation diminishes, where I can feel a certain satisfaction in the work that I have put in, and whatever rewards that work has brought me, either financially, professionally, or spiritually, and while I will never withdraw from the world, for that is not a way to live, I will engage with it in a deeper and more nuanced fashion that reflects my own inner-resources and the hard-earned lessons I will have absorbed. I will recognize that fame is a complicated and dangerous power source, and that those who are caught up in its maw should not be revered or even necessarily celebrated, but they should continue to be thought of as human beings, and that as such they deserve our patience and a modicum of respect. I’m not there yet, but eventually I would like to see the world through the eyes of someone who simply appreciates his place in it, and doesn’t feel like that place is constantly being threatened by the place others have found for themselves, and when he sees someone doing something silly or stupid or embarrassing or unfortunate, he will simply wish for them a future in which they come to the same conclusions, a future in which they, too, find themselves more deeply engaged with the world than they ever thought possible, happy for the simple privilege of getting to be a part of it. Then again, who knows, maybe when I am 61 years old I will just want to diarrhea in everyone’s face because who even cares death approaches and quickly. I CAN HEAR ITS FOOTSTEPS! (Click through to enlarge.)