The loss of another of the creative caste

  The death of singer Whitney Houston was not unexpected, though another in a series of tragedies befalling the creative set.
  It's sad. It really is.
  But people make their choices.
  Whitney Houston, unfortunately, chose to marry a drug addict who ruined her. 
  And here we go again.
  Sentimental photos, sad music and reminiscing testimonials of character and 24/7 news coverage of an untimely death, hinted to be by prescription drugs, of some creative individual.
  Gawker posting updates from onsite gossip.
  Websites posting flowering dripping eulogies and recriminations.
  Masses of flowers, stuffed animals and hand written notes to a stranger piled at the building where her body was found.
  And inside the building where her body was found the party goes on with occasional outbursts.
  Weeping. 
  Maudlin antics by unknowns to get on camera to utter condolences to a *star.*
  Some melodramatic despair over yet another death among the drifting anointed. 
  Heavy hearts sworn, voices quavering, slight smearing of mascara.
  And sometime soon, if not already, there'll be an effort to put blame on someone, probably conservative, who had nothing to do with this latest death.
  Personally I'm turning the media off about this. We can change some things and others, not.
  When someone is gifted with so much, both personally and financially, but chooses this path but it would seem the rest of us must live with their choices.
  God rest her soul. 
  To me, this was her greatest performance: