In Brief

I'm at Comic-Con right now, hanging around a McDonalds that has free internet access, so I have very little time to blog . . . but all anyone here is talking about is Amy Winehouse's death, which just happened over in England.  And could I just say one short thing?

Winehouse was twenty-seven, dead of a drug overdose in her London home.*  Now, I'm no fan of Ms. Winehouse, not caring for her music, and certainly not for her public persona, so I have my bias . . . but could we please not view her death as something glamorous, poetic, tragic, or romantic? Just this one time, let's not look to this incident as an example, or as something to wax all wistful and morose about?

Talented or not, this woman had so many chances to redeem herself, to slam on the brakes, or at least slightly change direction, but she proudly waved her stubborn unwillingness to compromise like a banner. The dinosaurs had their chance, Hammond.

Sometimes, dead is better.

For example, over in Gotham City, there's that ultra-rich spoiled womanizing titular head of Wayne Enterprises, basically the male equivalent of Paris Hilton (though better-looking). This guy constantly engages in crazy unsafe behavior, such as skiing, skydiving, hang gliding, reckless driving, and being seen with European supermodels. He has broken bones, been in comas, head wounds, even had a spinal injury, yet he keeps on doing all these idiotic, thrill-seeking things. It's only a matter of time before Mr. Wayne ends up on a slab somewhere, and I hope nobody gasps and says, "The world has tragically lost a true hero today. Let's all strive to be just like him."

That's just my couple pennies; you may go on with your weekend.**

Rish

*Afterward determined to be due to alcohol poisoning.

**So, a couple of years later, I got a comment (see below) that I was a bit of a callous douche (my words) to make such a statement.  And it gave me pause.  Not being a fan, I was outside of the conversation that was being had at McDonalds, about how heart-breaking the news was.  I only knew Winehouse as among the most outspoken celebrity "lifestyle advocates," as they seem to be calling it now, and said what I said about it.
And yeah, while making light of the incident in my way was pretty insensitive, the years that followed have shown us that my hope that people not romanticize her death went nowhere.  There are cover albums, tribute songs, documentaries, statues, and various testimonials as to how inspiring she was.  It goes without saying that more people care about Amy Winehouse than ever will care about me.  But my statement stands, that I wish we wouldn't glamorize these things, elevate such incidents to the status of Shakespearean tragedy, and choose our role models more carefully.
Winehouse was a huge influence on Adele Adkins, and I adore Adele, so . . . maybe I too need to think twice.