Anyone who spends as much time reading celebrity blogs as I do must have a comment about the untimely death of Heath Ledger, right? I suppose. I remember resenting the press shoving him down our throats when he starred in “A Knight's Tale,” and I remember truly despising “10 Things I Hate About You.” I remember being stupefyingly underwhelmed by “Brokeback Mountain,” which may have stemmed from its couldn't-have-been-longer-than-10-pages screenplay. Most recently, I remember reading the opening to the upcoming “Batman” movie and relishing how awesome it sounded.

Now? I'm pissed off that the media is saying it's drugs, though we don't know for sure. I'm pissed off at Eonline.com for saying “Brokeback Mountain” was his first and only Academy Award nomination (he could be nominated for “Batman,” I mean, stranger things have happened). I'm pissed off that he's dead and he's eight years younger than I am. And I'm pissed off that President Bush took the opportunity to *cancel* his conference about prescription drug abuse, for fear it would seem “opportunistic” in the face of tragedy, when the man's never ever ever been concerned about being accused of opportunism at any time in his weasely life.

But mostly? I'm sad that Heath Ledger's two-year-old won't get to know her daddy. And I'm deeply concerned about whether he left behind a last will and testament that will shower his daughter with the money he's made, and the money he has yet to make from what is certain to be THE summer blockbuster of 2008.

Rest in peace, Mr. Ledger — but only if you left a will.