Sure, we all could see that the Grim Reaper loomed above her like a cloud of smoke at a Grateful Dead concert. The girl liked to party. Like a lot. There were plenty of pics that documented her demise. There she is past the point of inebriation with a drink clutched in her skeletal hands. Here's another with her nostrils flaked with cocaine. There is also her many cancelled shows or the times she would show up, but was so pissed, she couldn't remember the lyrics to her own songs. She punched people. She went to rehab, despite the catchy "no, no, no" of her infamous and ironic song. And tragically she died at the young age of 27.
I posted on facebook about her death, as did many people. One of my friends, who I actually know in person, posted that he wondered why no one mentioned the soldiers who had died in battle in the past few weeks or the people who died in Norway. He felt that their deaths were more signifcant or noble than Ms. Winehouse's death. After all, she had it coming with the way she lived her life.
But don't we all have it coming? No one here gets out alive. And honestly, it's only really going to matter to those who had a personal connection to us.
Unless you've written a hit song.
