Today is the first official day of autumn, so you celebrities out there can finally exhale: the seasonal orgy of death has come to a close. I’ll always remember summer ’09 for the days that Twitter taught me how to grieve: for David Carradine’s apparent Michael Hutchence impression, for Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson on the same day, for a 4th of July marred by Steve McNair’s murder.

Some people will tell you that there wasn’t a death trend, and you need to seek out those contrarians and hammer their gonads with a rubber mallet. Jezebel recently made the mistaken claim that because a couple people who were most famous in the ’70s and ’80s died, today’s writers — mostly in their 30s and 40s — waxed nostalgic and thus it was misdiagnosed as a trend.

In 2008, for example, we lost Studs Terkel, in his nineties, like Cronkite; Paul Newman at 83, like [Dominick] Dunne; Michael Crichton of cancer in his sixties, like Fawcett; Tim Russert of a heart attack in his late fifties, like Hughes and Carroll; Bernie Mac unexpectedly at age 50, like Jackson; not to mention Jeff Healey and Brad Renfro, respectively far too young and far, far too young. Beloved Golden Girl Bea Arthur died in 2009 — and beloved Golden Girl Estelle Getty died in 2008. So what’s the big deal about this year?

Oh, I’m sorry. Help me out. Which former All-Pro and NFL MVP was shot in the chest at age 36 by his mistress in 2008? Which badass actor died of autoerotic asphyxiation in Thailand in 2008? You’re telling me this was normal? You can blame a celeb-obsessed culture and Twitter all you want, but there’s no getting around the fact that a high number of celebrity deaths were grouped unusually tightly over the course of a season.

And now it’s over. I’m kind of nostalgic for it already.

Notes on the  image: Excluded were John Hughes, Eunice Shriver Kennedy, Les Paul, and Frank McCourt, whom I consider influential figures but not “celebrities” in the strictest sense. Oh, and Bob Novak, because F Bob Novak.

20/20 (ABC) — Just days ago, Barbara Walters interviewed several people closest to Farrah Fawcett, including Ryan O’Neal, Jaclyn Smith, and best friend Alana Stewart.  The show will also include clips from previous Fawcett-Walters interviews.  Another acceptable tribute?  Staring longingly at her old pictures.

Penn & Teller: Bullsh-t (Showtime) — Penn & Teller go around exposing fakery in everything from televangelists to alleged environmentally friendly products.  Might be interesting, but it could use a little less Penn & Teller.

Burn Notice (USA) — I forget to DVR this every week.  I’m pretty terrible at the TV-watching part of my job.

Samantha Who? (ABC) — Or as non-viewers call it, “Samantha what now?”  Show returns from hiatus tonight.

So You Think You Can Dance (Fox) — Two of the final 16 get voted off.  Watch for Mary Murphy to use some hackneyed catchphrase from the pop culture graveyard.  She’s like the crazy aunt you don’t want to sit next to at Thanksgiving, but with more Botox.

River Monsters (Discovery) — If they don’t have an episode about the Amazonian fish that swims up your peehole, I’ll be massively disappointed.

NBA Draft (ESPN) — It’s like the NFL draft, but even MORE boring!  Thanks ESPN!

Actress and iconic sex symbol Farrah Fawcett passed away this morning.  She was 62, the victim of a rare anal cancer, which — and I’ve given this some serious thought — is probably the worst kind of cancer to have.

Fawcett rose to superstardom in the late ’70s due to a starring role on “Charlie’s Angels” and the famous poster that showcased her feathered hair and prominent nipples, but later worked hard to establish herself as a serious actress, gaining three Emmy nominations.  She also provided a classic television moment in her 1997 appearance on Letterman, in which she appeared high or crazy or both.  But that’s all in the past now.  A sad day.  I hate it when sexy people die.

P.S. Tomorrow’s New York Post WILL have an “Angel” reference. I promise.

Legendary sex symbol Farrah Fawcett — who will only be pictorially depicted here as Hot Farrah, never as Crazy Farrah or Cancer Farrah — continues to struggle with cancer of the ass, her troubled son Redmond O’Neal admitted in a recent court hearing.  Drug-addicted Redmond O’Neal, 24, cited his mother’s illness as a reason he wanted to get clean.

“I want to be there for my mother,” O’Neal said in a barely audible voice, referring to Fawcett. “She weighs about 86 pounds. I’m upset with myself. My timing sucks.”

Man, I haven’t weighed 86 pounds since I was a junior in high school.  I was a sickly child.  A bit of a late bloomer.

O’Neal has battled drug addiction for years. Several weeks ago he was kicked out of rehab after testing positive for methamphetamine and when traces of heroin were found in his room, prosecutors said.

O’Neal’s right: this is horrible timing.  When your family members get cancer, it just totally messes up your getting-high-on-meth schedule.

NBC has picked up “A Wing and a Prayer,” Farrah Fawcett’s documentary about her battle with rectal cancer.

The film follows Fawcett as she receives experimental cancer treatments in Germany, shuttling between doctors’ appointments and run-ins with the paparazzi, promising to be an intense and intimate look into the star’s struggles during her illness.

“A Wing and a Prayer” is shot like a video diary by Fawcett herself, although some of her close friends and long-time boyfriend Ryan O’Neal pick up the camera as well. [source]

We can all agree cancer is bad, right?  And everybody knows someone who’s died from it, right?  Cool, let’s go ahead and move forward to telling jokes about it, then.  For example, I like to pretend that she’s being told she has rectal cancer in all these pictures.  Because cancer is especially tragic when it happens to beautiful people.