Whitney Houston died last week.
Sad, to be sure. But certainly not unexpected. As most of the world was made aware, she’d been struggling with her
addictions demons for many years, and it seemed a certainty she would one day succumb to them.
I’m not here today to comment on Whitney Houston’s demise beyond that. I was just sitting here thinking today that I really don’t get our fascinations with celebrities, and celebrity deaths.
Let them live and die in peace. Really.
My God, just look at those gossip rags in grocery stores. And we really lap that stuff up.
One thing people seem to forget all the time is that yes, most celebrities are wealthier than we will ever be. Indeed it is difficult to imagine wealth to such a degree that if you want anything, all you have to do is pull a wad of cash or a limitless credit card out of your fanny pack and you are rolling in it. The thing is they are still people, just like anyone else.
They step into their 1500 dollar jeans every day just like I step into my 19 dollar Walmart specials. They pee in the morning, and sometimes they might even blow their noses. Maybe not Betty White, but certainly everyone else.
The point is, when does it stop?
I’m wondering when it will get to the point we see a story like:
School teacher uses bathroom stall next to Twilight star Robert Pattinson.
Yesterday, a 10th grade history teacher named Carlos Jackson entered a Carl’s Jr Bathroom with an urgent need to purge his “lower quadrant.” Before he could close the door to his stall, he saw faux teenage emo vampire douche Robert Pattinson enter the stall next to his wearing a pained expression on his pasty white cheeks.
“It was really bad,” said Jackson. “It sounded like that noise a pumpkin makes when it falls off a ten story building and explodes on the ground. But it smelled like golden delicious apples and caviar. He asked his assistant to hand him a stack of 20’s to wipe with”
You know that kind of thing is coming.
I would prefer that we just let them live their lives, and I will enjoy the entertainment they provide. I don’t want to know them, and I do not care who they marry, or if Miley Cyrus is seen riding a goat down Pennsylvania avenue singing Party in the USA.
Maybe if we don’t allow ourselves to be consumed by their celebrity, they will not feel the need to be consumed by the world.
They will not live (and die) for our adoration.
They will not become golden calves.