I was intending not to say anything about her here, but watching some
newcasters makes me have to. You'd think she was some kind of genius or cultural icon, to listen to some of them but one wonders whom they were watching. She'd succeeded in getting away from a poor, uneducated childhood on the strength of wanting to be famous more than anything else. But she always exuded enormous sadness even thought her behavior was to be wild and crazy. Sometimes she seemed striking, almost beautiful, but at other times (with less make-up? a different dresser?) she was downright unattractive. And though her fans talk as if she were mother of the year, it might be good to remember that she indulged various appetites more or less endlessly, surrounded herself with sycophants, entrusted her business as well as her person to people with the trustworthiness of tumbleweeds, and displayed every bit of herself on a so-called reality
tv show where she groped and flailed around in what sure looked like a drug-induced haze. Her fame and fortune may have seemed appealing, but her son's dead at twenty, her daughter (by an
unacknowledged father) has no mother, and she herself is dead at thirty-nine. Perspective.
Labels: people, reflections
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