Here comes a giant surprise guys – Whitney Houston is dead.
She was one of the greatest singers of all time, sold vast swarths of albums to housewives, children, and everyone in between, so great, so so super, but she couldn’t get happy. No matter how hard she tried it seemed, she was medicating herself for some kind of pain that went unresolved and blowing all her money on that medicine. Until it messed with her heart so badly that she drowned in the tub after a heart episode.
The most important part of the police report was that she died with cocaine in her system. Even after attending rehab many, many times over, even after everyone around her was trying to get drugs and abusive people out of her life, all she wanted to do was get high and lay in a bathtub. So she did. And now she’s dead.
There’s a lesson to be learned here, but the fact we’re still talking about her when she clearly didn’t want to get help is pretty annoying. She sang pretty. She could’ve lived pretty and been an example, but her short-term interests were too selfish.
I’m sorry. I should say something about how ‘Dance With Somebody’ was so good, we should all forget the fact she’s screwed her daughter forever.
Way to go, Whitney.
