Becky made me sad.

I didn't know Greg. I just worked some of his shows. Every year, he would put together a benefit show for the school his kids went to. He'd get some of his top-notch friends to do 15 each, and he would host, and it was a lot of fun. He was always a funny, quick, smart comic on stage. He OD'd on prescription meds last week. As a measure of how universally loved he was, I give you this testament; when the waitstaff at a comedy club likes you, you must be alright.

A few nights ago, we had a couple of stars stop by to see the band. The well known movie star kept lighting cigarettes in the bar. When you are told, to your face, that you can't smoke in the bar, and then light another one a little while later, you're just being a bigheaded asshole. Your fame and fortune does not excuse you from societal norms, or common courtesy.

Well known TV star wasn't looking too good. She stumbled out after the show, walked down the block a little, and then just stopped and stood there a few minutes. We felt sad. Normally we'd chuckle at this all too common behavior, wrongly, but this is someone you felt like you knew. I suggested an on-the-spot intervention. Before any of us could stop being so cowardly and ask her if we could help her get home, she darted into the street and flagged down a cab. I walked down the subway steps hoping I wouldn't hear about her in the news the next day, and promising if I saw her again, I would say something. Even just a hello. A how are you. Even if she looked okay. Maybe I'd tell her I saw her at this show, and maybe then she'd know why I was asking. Everyone needs to know someone's there.