I am a creature of habit. My routine, daily, seldom varies. I wake up, grab my coffee and smokes, take my medications and vitamins and begin searching the entertainment websites for news and happenings. Some of it is same ol, same ol, and not that noteworthy but sometimes, there are things that make ya go "hmmm".
On February 10, my day was the same as any other except I saw a photo of Whitney Houston and her daughter, Bobbi Kristina, coming out of the Hollywood Tru Night Club and I said to myself, "Girl, if you keep this up, you aren't going to be long for this world, and furthermore, you have your daughter to think of as well." Poor Whitney; a slow moving mess with blood on her leg, scratches on her arm, face and hair saturated with sweat and a facial expression that told me this lady had just partied hard. Given the fact that Whitney Houston has battled demons of drugs and alcohol in the past and had had a stretch of sobriety, it was heartbreaking to see that she had fallen off the wagon. Even sadder yet, her daughter was along for the ride with her. I breathed a heavy sigh and carried on with my day.
So now, the next day, Saturday, February 11, I'm going through all my newspaper sites, entertainment and music sites and see an article on TMZ about an autopsy to be performed on Whitney Houston, and I'm asking myself, "whoa, shit, did I read that right or did I mess up on my meds today?? Wasn't that photo just posted yesterday? What the hell is going on?" And sadly, but surely, by reading further, much to my chagrin, I find that Whitney Houston had died in her bathtub at the Beverly Hilton hotel earlier in the afternoon while getting ready for the Clive Davis Grammy party to be held at the same location. And a little part of me felt horribly guilty thinking about what I had said to myself the day before about Whitney not being long for this earth, and thought of the "from my mouth to God's ears" saying. O.k, we know God doesn't listen to everything I say and acts upon it, but ya gotta admit, you do feel like a schmuck for a few minutes.
As I continue to investigate the story, it seems that Whitney's hard partying didn't end on Thursday evening at Tru, but she also had a heavy night of drinking on Friday night as well. As her Saturday began, it started off with breakfast in the hotel with more alcohol and it seemed like Whitney's little body just got too tired to carry on. Her dress for the Clive Davis bash laid out on the bed, Whitney went in the bathroom with her turkey sandwich and jalepenos and settled into a relaxing bath. Shortly thereafter, her aunt, who helps her dress for events, returned to the room, knocked on the bathroom door, and when getting no response, walked into the bathroom to find Whitney submerged under the water. Security was called, paramedics were deployed to the scene but alas, Whitney had already passed away.
Now here's where things begin to get even more daft. Some items make you shake your head, some make ya go, "whaa?" and some, perhaps, might miff ya.
First off, apparently it was reported that on Friday night, prior to Whitney's demise, her daughter, Bobbi Kristina, was found in a bath tub, submerged under water and unconscious, but was found in time and revived. Now let me clarify, when I say "submerged", it is stated by witnesses both females were bath tubs, on their backs, heads under water and knees up. I don't get it yourself sensory depravation exercise? Meditation under water? And what did either of them do that causes them to become unconscious? We can speculate all we want but this has my curiousity really peaked.
But I digress, so tally ho. Before Whitney's body is removed from the Beverly Hills Hilton, her daughter is refused entry to the room to see her mother, as well Ray J, Whitney and Bobbi Kristina's friend. Granted that officials were just doing their job and until the cause of death is substantiated, you consider it more or less a crime scene and keep everyone the hell out. But I do think at some point, they could have wheeled the body to another room and allowed Bobbi K to see her mother. As tragic and startling as it would have been, it is something she needed to do and should have been allowed to do.
Now we come to the part where I got my feathers ruffled, and these days it doesn't take much because I'm becoming an old poop and hearing the voices of elderly female family members coming out of my mouth, so bear with me.
Four floors below where Whitney Houston's dead body is laying in wait to be taken out of the hotel is the Clive Davis' Grammy Bash. For those of you who don't know, Clive Davis is the man responsible for launching Whitney into stardom and was, to some extent, like a surrogate father at time, helping her during her rough patches in life and being loving and supportive. As well as being her manager, he was a very close friend.
Alot of people, including myself, were put off by the fact that Davis did not cancel the party. Rumor has it that Whitney wouldn't have wanted the party to be called off but rather kept going to celebrate her life and music. Personally, I call it BULLSHIT! There is a video clip on the internet where the coroner on the scene is asked a couple simple questions regarding his take on the tragedy and you can bearly hear him because the music and chatter from the party below is so loud it's obscene!! (Bear in mind, once again, that the party is four floors below this area where the coroner is speaking to TMZ)
If it was in best interest to keep the party scheduled, could they have at least waited until her body was out of the building for Christ's sake??? Was she nothing more than a cash cow for the industry that they had so little respect for Whitney, her aunt, her daughter, and her crew that they couldn't put their asses on hold for a couple hours?? There's a photo of Diana Ross smiling and dancing around with Clive Davis on stage during this time, and if I would have been Ms. Ross, I would have handled it with a little more class and grace; "but there, for the Grace of God, go I", Diana?
Poor Bobbi Kristina suffered terribly in the following 24 hours, having to be twice admitted to the hospital due to being hysterical and inconsolable. Her father, Bobby Brown, performed with New Edition that evening and then returned to California to be there with daughter, Bobbi Kristina, although family members were initially adamant about keeping him clear from her and the funeral. Eventually they relented and allowed him to be part of the funeral or "celebration of life" as the family preferred to call it.
For the last couple of month's prior to Whitney's demise, friends said Whitney would state she wanted to meet Jesus and would quote Matthew 3:13 -17 to them stating, "that's the cool Jesus I want to meet". The eerie part of that Bible quote is Matthew 3:16; " 16 As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”
What made my nerves tingle was a photo taken of the bathtub where Whitney died show a gravy boat in the bottom of tub under the water. It was alleged that Whitney did this often, putting olive oil in the gravy boat, so that when she bathed, it would help soften her skin. The oil reminded me of oils used during baptisms and last rites to mark the sign of the cross on the forward. Trippy, I know, but that's your Dark Diva, for ya. Always thinking outside the box.
I've said it before and I'll say it again; it's so terribly sad when a life is ended because our demons win out. You see this so often in the entertainment field. Pressures to be a star are relentless. There's always a thousand others behind you trying to knock you off the ladder of success. Deadlines, photo shoots, a million shows in a hundred days, appearances, fashion, public image; all this can take a heavy toll on anyone who isn't prepared to handle those challenges. The media watches your every move...fart the wrong color and it's headline news because the public wants to know that the stars aren't invincible as well. Trip over your own shoelaces in front of the papparrazzi and before you know it, everyone's speculating you're either drunk and/or high. It's a merciless business with often times too many fatalities.
In the meantime, I'm waiting to hear a resounding "pop" somewhere off in the distance, hoping it's the sound of Demi Moore taking Whitney's tragic death to heed and pulling her head out of her ass and shaping up. Whip-its, Demi? Really? With your daughter in plain view while you do it, too. "There too, but for the grace of God, go I".
May the divine spirit rest and bless Whitney Houston, Bobby Brown, Bobbi Kristina and everyone who is suffering at this time. Whitney, you were someone special.


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