It seemed as if you couldn't turn on a television without seeing him. The energy, the enthusiasm and the voice were like no one else's, and he combined these attributes into a colossal money-making machine. You either loved him or you hated him; few could honestly say that they were indifferent to this omnipresent celebrity. And now, when we had all assumed that he'd be with us more-or-less forever, he has died at age 50.
What's that? Michael Jackson? No, no, no, not that moon-walking stick-figure of pop culture. I'm talking about Billy Mays. May God bless his soul and comfort his family.