Dying to be in Public Graces

I’m really frustrated with our society.  Please don’t take this blog the wrong way – I honestly mean no disrespect to the dead.  Just to the living.  I also want to apologize for this being so late.  I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about this, but I’ve been unable to blog for a while.  This has been bugging me since it came up, though.

Whitney Houston just died.  We all know this.  All of a sudden, we’ve lost such a treasure.  It’s so sad that she has left us so soon.

Wait!  Just last month, didn’t I hear someone refer to her as a crack whore?  Wasn’t she and her addictions the butt of many late night talk show hosts’ jokes?  And I’m pretty sure that I recently heard some report about how she couldn’t even perform a show because she was so strung out on some sort of something.

And now all of a sudden, she was the greatest thing since sliced bread.  She was devout in her love of and faith in God.  Now, she is loved by all.  She will be dearly missed.


The same phenomenon happened with Michael Jackson.  He was a child molester, a pervert, a bad parent, and his face was a laughing-stock.

Until he died.  His fan base multiplied overnight and became much more public.  The jokes about his missing nose disappeared.  All of a sudden, he was an amazing artist and it’s so sad we lost him so soon.


So, do you no longer believe he touched children inappropriately?  Have you forgotten about her rampant drug use?  Or do those no longer matter because they’re dead?  Or, is it because you can’t speak ill of the dead?

Or is it because you’re jumping on the popular band wagon of the day, like all of the other lemmings out there?  At first, you’re convinced of how evil they are, and then of their sainthood, simply because that’s what the media tells you to believe.

I don’t know why this bothers me so much.  I haven’t changed my viewpoint about either artist due to their deaths.  My life hasn’t been affected by it.  For some reason, this 180 that the media pulls at the death of a celebrity really frosts my cake.

I can’t be the only one, can I?


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