Woke up from a cold medicine-induced haze around midnight.  Turned on the TV, clicked the Guide button, and got enticed by the description, "R.Kelly:  Sam Cooke Live."  Hmm. 

I've long said that R. Kelly got his singing style straight from studying Sam Cooke.  Tremendously talented, R. Kelly.  Too bad his demons seem to have taken over his spotlight.  Absolutely LOVE Sam Cooke.  Another tortured soul, brimming over with talent, but gone too soon; and under tragic circumstances.

I turned the channel to that station, only to find one of my favorite Whitney Houston videos from "The Bodyguard" Soundtrack.  Dumb TV Guide got it wrong again, but I watched it anyway, instantly nostalgic for my uncomplicated, yet angsty adolescent-to-teen-to-young adult years.  To call her voice remarkable would be to grossly understate the experience.

Then I logged onto the Internet to find that Whitney Houston just died.  Yes.  I literally gasped and went numb.  It made me very sad.  

Out of habit more than anything, I opened a new tab, and logged on to find too much commentary, much of it very mean, most of it self-serving and gratuitous, all of it repetitive, all over Facebook.  For the 3rd time in about a week, I thought of deactivating my page, but people keep finding me there; and I actually enjoy being connected.  I wish I could find (or Facebook would provide) the feature that allows me to turn off the news feed.

People love to post judgments as if they don't have any of their own demons to battle.  Shut up.  Others like to get on soapboxes, berating and belittling folks for mourning and contemplating the loss of a super star, as they feign to champion the plight of the military and civil servants who have served and died in the line of duty with little notice or fanfare.  Shut.  Up.  As if celebrities choose to die for the world-wide recognition and with the attention of eclipsing the acknowledgment of the rest of us.  Hell, I don't know.  Maybe some of them do.  There's a more morbid than usual thought, but...*Shrugs*  But they ARE celebrities.  People know more of them than they do the rest of us.  Their lives (and deaths) are news.  So, shut up.

And all of these pop up tributes?  Ugh.  So damn tacky. 

Let's all parade around on stage, TV and radio, belting out karaoke-esque covers and spouting endless commentary, and call it a tribute.  Yeah, there's an original thought.  No one will see straight through that.  And what a tragically fortuitous coincidence that the award shows are just around the corner.  I can almost see the Oscar and Grammy producers scrambling as I write this.

Her tarnished image and questionable, highly scrutinized lifestyle aside, Whitney Houston's was arguably the greatest voice of a generation.  Indeed, a tortured soul, brimming over with talent.  There never seems to be enough time, but I'm glad that I was here to witness and truly appreciate her gift.  I get chills thinking about the glorious sound of her voice.  My goodness.

 Okay.  Now, I'll shut up, too.