Monday, June 11, 2012

Well, Duh

Did anyone question Cissy Houston's motives when she announced she was writing a book about Whitney?  I didn't, I knew right then it was all about the money.  But especially when the press release never mentioned the reason the book was being written.  Normally, you hear catch phrases such as "tell her whole story" or "how the legend came to be."

Cricket.  Cricket.

TMZ outright compares her to Joe Jackson, the worst celebrity parent ever.  Houston wasn't dead twelve hours before relatives and friends came out of the woodwork, trying to whittle a piece.  Cissy kept it classy right up until she heard that everything went to Bobbi Kristina.  Now she's selling a book, and cashing in on her daughter's memory.

Whitney Houston battled some mighty demons. We watched her go from a fresh-faced brilliant voice to a hollowed out drug addict who couldn't kick the habit.  We cheered for her no matter how silly or rude she was, and every single time she tried to turn around, we hoped that this time was the one.  She's gone now, and even for a celebrity of her status, an unusually large outpouring of sadness came from the public.

I won't buy the book.  I cannot imagine finding more spin or self-serving information compressed into one source.

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