Robin Williams

“Harlan Wolff sums it up beautifully “The media are pushing the Robin Williams suicide story with the subtlety and tact of a runaway train. The story being purveyed is that he was sad and it addled his mind. Ordinary people are sometimes sad, not geniuses, geniuses are depressed; which is a different thing entirely. You see, a genius is born into a world that resembles a room full of television sets with all the different channels simultaneously pummeling them with information that they must then try to assimilate into an explainable philosophy. Comedic genius is possibly the worst affliction of the lot, and that’s why much of the work of the best comedians is akin to a suicide note in weekly installments. Your average working model from the genus Homo sapien becomes sad from life’s predictable tragic events. He loses his job or his dog dies, for example. Whereas a genius can be depressed by his dog’s mere presence, because knowledge in the hands of a genius results in more questions than answers. Is dog ownership moral? Should I really be eating this bacon sandwich in front of him? Shouldn’t I be taking him for longer walks? A genius is a walking question mark. Some of the self-proclaimed pundits in the press insist that depression is merely a chemical imbalance and that was what Robin Williams suffered from, and that was his eventual demise. Unfortunately they don’t know, because they are too ordinary to be depressed, so instead they are sad. Well, you all are; Robin Williams was a very memorable and remarkable man. What they overlook is that genius is already a chemical imbalance and depression the result of the mental exhaustion that accompanies it. The experts aren’t mentally exhausted and therefore believe they are lucid and can explain everything. It’s rather like listening to somebody tell you that they know two-hundred ways to make love, even though everybody knows they don’t have a girlfriend. A little digging into history shows us that the greatest gifts our cultures have ever received came from our most tortured souls. Beethoven was a handful, to say the least. Immanuel Kant refused to come out and play with the other children and chose a life of isolation instead. Lord Byron was addicted to excess in all things and chose to live in exile. Sigmund Freud chain-smoked, fretted about his mother, and took copious quantities of cocaine. Charles Dickens was an obsessive compulsive. Albert Einstein would go bird watching with a violin and play it alone in the woods with tears streaming down his face; he did a few drugs mind you, as his autopsy revealed. Michelangelo was extremely melancholy and solitary, rejecting creature comforts and instead choosing to live an unpleasant and squalid life. Clearly a genius’s lot is not a happy one. So let’s not listen to the rabid media for a change and just be grateful for the gifts we have received from our geniuses. Robin Williams was certainly a genius and analysing the chaos inside his mind is way above your pay-grade. He was cleverer than you, and there was simply a lot more going on in his head. Such hyperactivity wears out flesh and blood and brings chronic fatigue. Robin Williams was tired, and different from you, and now he doesn’t live here anymore. You are all entitled to feel sad about that.”

1-800-273-8255 United States Suicide Hotline
For International Suicide Hotline Numbers