Bill Friskics-Warren, writing for The New York Times (gift link):

Dolly Parton, a rhinestone-studded, rags-to-riches daughter of Appalachia who for six decades ruled country music — and much of pop culture — with an outsize personality and down-home wit that enshrined her as one of America’s most cherished originals, died on Tuesday in Nashville. She was 80.

Some celebrities are just part of the zeitgeist, ever-present for as long as we can remember, even when we’re not paying close attention to them, and every now and then, they grab our attention and we’re reminded, oh yeah, they’re freaking awesome. That was Dolly Parton. Even for me, hardly a country music fan, hearing Parton sing was a delight. She had a magnificent voice, and a personality as large as her… hair.

She died of an unspecified cancer.

Fuck. Cancer.

Her family asks that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, which has gifted over 300 million books to children around the world.

Donated.