ROBIN LEACH - it ends with a stroke and obscurity

Ageism leads to...death.

Robin Leach was another personality who disappeared mostly because he got old.

He died at 76, missing his birthday (Aug 29th) by five days.

At this point "Robin Leach" is a dimly remembered figure from a campy time when "The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" had more to do with yachts and caviar than butt implants and wardrobe malfunctions.

The show was on from 1984 to 1995, which we all remember as a golden age for shit.

The odd thing is that his theme...the average jerk having a vicarious thrill seeing dimwits with money live excessive lives of flamboyance...is still with us. It's just that we want a Millennial to do the gushing. Think Robin Leach's voice was annoying? It's nothing compared to the irritating nasal noises, gaspy groans and "end a sentence like it's a question" stylings of today's female reporters. They all seem to have gone to the Paris Hilton one-day school of acting. If a male is chosen to report on gossip, he'll be gay...and so the irritating nasal noises, gaspy groans and talking-in-italics will be more effeminate than feminine.

If living well is the best revenge, at least Leach had money. His show left him a multi-millionaire, but...he did want to keep working. He wanted to avoid being a has-been. But you can't avoid getting old.

He didn't want to go quietly into obscurity. Many old gossip columnists go to the Internet and find some website where they can talk about other people who are largely forgotten. They leave the icky Nickys and Kardashians to the new breed...TMZ and Perez Hilton.

So it was, that Leach, circa 2014, turned up in Las Vegas, writing a local column in the Las Vegas Sun, and, yes, BLOGGING and using TWITTER, where he could boast of about 40,000 followers. Not a lot.

In 2017, while vacationing in fabulous Mexico, Leach suffered a stroke that for a while left him almost helpless for a while. He eventually was able to walk on his own, but as W.C. Fields might have phrased it, a year later "he passed the crisis and died," leaving behind some YouTube clips (one of them is an interview with Trump, where Trump boasts that his newborn baby girl has wife Marla's legs...but so far...not her breasts. Ha ha.)

Would Robin Leach really wanted to have remained on TV to gush over Kim and Kanye's gold plated toilets? To ask Nicki Minaj about why her goofy boyfriend Pete Davidson cut his hair short and dyed it Eminem yellow? Probably...YES. But his silly British accent became the target of parody long ago, and if you check the TMZ TV show, you'll note that the gay Pied Piper and host likes to surround himself with guffawing high school dropouts who can barely talk at all, just snigger.

Few writers become famous by writing. Few become wealthy. Today, according to the Pew Report (and a more accurate name for it, you won't find), the average reporter on a newspaper makes $35,000. That's the average. Bet that most make less, and the number may be skewed by a few high profile columnists who command more. The best way for a writer to make money is to push himself into the public eye as Truman Capote and Gore Vidal did, via chat show outrageousness.

Leach began following celebs while at the London Daily Fail...er, Mail. Way before Piers Morgan first raised a nostril, turned up on "Celebrity Apprentice" or judged carefully rehearsed talent shows, Leach was covering the glamour scene. He came to America in 1963, eventually increased his profile via a KABC-TV (Los Angeles) show, and later pushed himself into the national public eye with 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,' and kept digging his nails in as he slid down the fame pole, hosting other "Fame"-type shows, including, in 11 years ago, "The Surreal Life Fame Games" for cable's unpopular VH1. By 2010, he was reduced to using his familiar and pompous voice for announcing NASCAR races at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway.

Then came his "re-invention" as a Las Vegas columnist, reporting on all kinds of dopey events, and being photographed with other D-listers at silly parties and promotions for tacky comic-con-type exhibits. The caption says it's Heather Mills with Robin. How long after this did he suffer the stroke?

And so he had his picture taken, ran his puff-piece column, and hoped his Twitter followers would help give him the illusion of stardom and the comfort of attention. It's sad but true that ageism is very much with us. Even Walter Cronkite was shoved out the door, as was Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw, and that's in REAL news reporting, not idiot gossip stuff. Ageism is creeping DOWNWARD, with people in their 50's looked on as targets for replacement.

There's no indignant Spike Lee or Rose McGowan-type to call attention to it. The response would be, "shut up you old fuddy-duddy, you made your money, step aside for a MILLENNIAL!"