Requiesciat In Pace, Jett Travolta

This is just such a tragedy.

I don't care what you think about John Travolta. I don't care what you think about Scientology. I don't care what you think about Battlefield Earth, Saturday Night Fever or Swordfish or hair-plugged actors flying private airplanes. All of these things make my eyes roll so far back in my head that I can see what's left of my brains, but that is all so much of nothing because that man, and his family? Lost their child.

So. There'll be much that will be said on the Internets about the police investigation into young Jett's death, and the Travolta's rejection of autism diagnoses (which may or may not have been a factor in that death) and who it was that found Jett and whether or not he'd been left alone and whether or not his life might not have ended if his parents weren't Scientologists and/or if Scientology weren't such a dipshit-stupid mind-cult that pretended that things like autism don't exist and/or are caused by aliens and/or if carpet cleaners weren't so toxic and/or whatever. I will say some of this stuff. But for a moment? Let's just extend our sympathy for this poor, poor family, and our best wishes and prayers for the soul of that poor boy.