Whitney Houston: An Eternity of Sobbing
The endless overkill of the "how could she not kill herself officially" Whitney Houston slow death is appalling.
Hollywood is filled with hybridized dysfunctional types; too few and they're called "typecast".
It's considered death to not be dead to yourself for a price. Success shows a well-paid, well-known failure at living. It also means that you are given accolades (Oscars, Tony, and Emmy nominations and presentations) by the "behind the curtains" elite who want the "public" gazing AS spectators to their own existences. Their "customers" must celebrate mesmerization, and must act as consumers of their product's "message", cherishing and emulating those roles of lifelessness, as if they were their own.
There are those "drawing out" their own deaths as artificialized, assembly-lined, and lifestyled lifeforms (with little content and certainly with no semblance of totalization, which is owned and/or mediated, with a placeholder, a "substitution" exuding perpetual banality.
The finality of death without a preceding life scares the "star" set. "Getting a life" of their own, without having a glimpse of reality in their own "lives"... the truth of "getting" is, to them, a credit card affair. All else is unknown to these fantasy "lifers". They act so child-like when caught doing what we dare not do, but then, credit card their way out of the harm's way which never releases us from our enslavement. They "think" they have eluded what eats us for breakfast, yet, they are just less appetizing, because they are "less filling" and "have more taste" just like [the kind of "taste that] their masters intend.
There are those too guilt-ridden to say that she was a corporate-maintained, media-hyped "talent", like the rest of the "stars", whose pedastal — like that constructed on the backs of us "collapsing star" people by mediator-owners, is all these "stars" have over all other people; they have "PR", advertising, and the praise they takes turns awarding each other during every sad waking moment and on every "talk show" selling images which the global pyramid scheme heaves onto everyone.
It is my contention that she (and all "stars") was no better than any person singing 'freely' in the shower. In fact, when I sing, I don't charge others to listen or to sing the same song. What pomp! The word 'freely' sings volumes about what a voice-whore is. The freedom to give songs away for free.... Something a "star" does not give away is their "stardom" because then they and their "public" are not separated by a veil of alienation. She never did, by the way.
There are those who will "live" her death like they "live" back-at-others the lives lost to them. They will "imitate", "act", "practice", "double-fake", "gesture", and "glitter" just as lamely and unchangingly as they always do, all the while suggesting that Whitney's (or, fill in the blank) "tough" life was "our own" and "everybody's responsibility". What utter escapist and "in denial" bullshit!. It was our [lack of] life of which she sang as if it was her own. That is the trick of inversion!
Parasites Need Their Own Lives; We Want Ours Back!
The entertainment, sports, and political toilets are swimming with illusionals who pose to delusionals w/r/t what a life is, what it could be, and how to move from the former to the latter.
The floaters are "... stories of poor working-class people, as told by rich Hollywood stars...." [Firesign Theatre]The self-alienating have "glamorous, over-arted, and massaged images of other self-alienating/self-whoring [pseudo-]"things" — steeped in cologne/perfume, wearing throwaway packaging (a.k.a., "clothes"), droning out trash-talk and doublespeak, exuding gaudiness, pretending depth and concern — as if that object-role is worth embracing in lieu of one's own life en masse.
I find them all, and their poverty-containing "career" PR to be paltry, banal, shallow, and a whore's perpetrated/perpetrating lie.
Why the Lie?
Liars are embraced by those refusing to give up their own self-lies. Truth-tellers (e.g., Bill Hicks, Greg Giraldo, George Carlin) were hardly mentioned by the Hollywood parade of psycho-cripples.
Why? Because they did NOT lie, and that's scary. It holds up a mirror which shows an inverted manufactured persona, playing a role for "the team" of mobsters and banksters who use "roles" to lull the social imagination to death. where a human (becoming more human) might have been, there is this use-valueless "star", this interviewed-over-nothing "personality", this narcissist who settles for other people's dreams because they gave up for a paycheck and flashbulbs.
The "parade" is a throughput channel of Capital colonizing humanity. These "stars" are the very opposite: eclipses.
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