On A Serious Note: Rehab Doesn’t Work, Right Amy?
That crazy bitch is dead. And I (unfortunately) don’t mean that wicked witch Michelle Bachmann. Poor Amy Winehouse passed away today and I’m sure you’ll be shocked to discover it was from choking on a ham sandwich. Just like Mamma Cass. In fact, her tiny little throat couldn’t open further than what it takes to syphon the last drops out of a scotch bottle.
I must admit from the outset that I don’t know Amy Winehouse personally but I’ve definitely have close friends who partied like her. And despite none of them ever trying out their hand at rehab, or having access to the comforts of being a Grammy winning multi-millionaire, they managed to keep it together. Just like MOST of us here at GLOGANVLOG. That being said, it’s always a tragedy when someone dies if only because she was loved by someone, I’m sure, and the pain they are suffering is unjust.
The Huffington Post said it best: ”critical acclaim aside, Winehouse had built her image as one defined by drugs, alcohol and general misbehavior, and what came in the four years following Back to Black fit nicely into that image. Besides, who really worries about a rock star who does drugs, starts fights and gets wasted? This created an odd dynamic where her behavior was indirectly encouraged and ridiculed — keep doing what you do, and we’ll pay attention to you… for a little while at least.” Hmmmm. Sounds a little too familiar.
So Cheers, bitches n hoes! Not to her death: it’s just the weekend, so drink and be merry. Just keep it under control, ’cause I can’t ponder the thought of attending a funeral in all black during this bloody heatwave.