Houston, We Had A Problem

Sunday February 12th, 2012 - Fox Lake, IL  

   First it was Elvis. Then Michael Jackson. Now it’s the premature passing of yet another music superstar under controversial and sketchy circumstances at a young age in Whitney Houston. I must say that although there was a modicum of shock reaction when I heard it for the first time, but it wasn’t a total surprise. Many have been expecting this for years.

   Everybody’s talking about it, and I do mean everybody. I hear it constantly both on the air and on the street, so I thought I’d throw my miscellaneous babblings into the mix just because I can. I don’t have any particular inside knowledge, so I can only go by what I’m seeing and hearing from the media and the public - two of the worst sources anywhere.

   The biggest point that hits home hardest with me about all this is that Whitney Houston and I were the same age. That’s about all we had in common, but we were both definitely born in 1963. So was Michael Jordan. Hmmm, let’s see - Houston, Jordan and Maxwell.

   Which one of those three names doesn’t belong? It’s laughable to think of how different all of our lives have been, even though we’ve been living on the same planet for about the same amount of time. It may be fact, but we’re not even close to living in the same world.

    It did make me feel quite good to hear more than one media outlet say “only 48” when mentioning her age, but she was so well known for decades for being young and beautiful that that’s how most people choose to remember her. Her first impression is still in place, at least with a chunk of the public. Her dalliances with her demons made some news too.

   I’m sorry to say, but I won’t lie - I just can’t find it in my heart to feel sorry for Whitney Houston. I feel horrible for her daughter, and her mother Cissy Houston is still living so it has to be excruciating for her to lose a child. My heart goes out to them and everyone else in her immediate and extended families with extreme sadness. I mean no disrespect at all.

     Of course I don’t revel in the fact that she died, but I never got a particularly solid vibe from Miss Houston. Whenever I’ve seen her interviewed, I always felt an arrogance from her that for some reason turned me off. She was talented and beautiful, and she knew it.

   It’s cheerleader syndrome from high school all over again, pumped up by about 10,000. Who can feel sorry for someone born with all those tools and all that talent? Why did she have to resort to drinking and drugs to comfort her? Weren’t her supreme gifts enough?

   I guess I don’t understand how addictions work. I see all these ‘experts’ saying how it’s a ‘disease’. Really? How about NEVER start up? Bang. End of disease. I can honestly say it’s possible, because I’m living proof. With all my other faults, I’ve never gone that way.

   Does that make me better than Whitney Houston or anyone else? Of course not, but SO many people would kill for what she had given to her at birth and she appears to have just pissed it all away. Would I trade lives with Whitney Houston? I’d have to say a loud no.

Posted via email from Dobie Maxwell's "Dented Can" Diary