To me, listening to Whitney Houston was exactly the same as listening to cats howl or to fingernails running across a chalkboard. I couldn’t turn her music off fast enough. I also hated that she opened the door to a series of ululating, howling women, all of whom sounded like scalded cats. If I say I thought she was a great talent, I’d be lying.
However, when a woman who has the world at her feet destroys herself with drugs and dies at age 48, that is a terrible tragedy. I don’t mourn the loss of a singer I disliked. I mourn very much the loss of a still-youthful woman with so much talent and promise. I hope that she finds in death the peace that eluded her in life.
Whitney Houston, requiescat in pace.Email This Post To A Friend
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