Amy Winehouse bit the dust over the weekend. Apparently she over-prescribed herself with cocain and ecstasy; although some reports say no drugs were found in her hotel room where she died. Ummm, maybe she took them all?
The only real surprise here is that Charlie Sheen wasn't found dead as a flounder and buck naked on the floor next to her.
What the hell is wrong with these people?
I don't know much about this train-wreck of a person. I do know that for reasons that, to me, defy logic, Winehouse somehow swept the Grammy's a few years ago winning five awards. Did no one else release a recording in 2006?
Evidently her primary role in life since that inexplicable high point was reviewing assorted rehab clinics and jails.
Getting punched out in nightclubs ran a close second.
I was amazed to learn that she was only 28; she looked 15 years older.
The report of Winehouse's death that I read came from the Huffington Post; not exactly a bastion of accuracy. Until I read of her death somewhere else, I'm going to give Winehouse a 50/50 chance of still being alive.
I was particularly amused that in its story after quoting a British tabloid that reported Winehouse had been seen buying cocaine, heroin, ketamine and ecstasy the night before she died, HuffPo added the disclaimer, "any tabloid report, of course, must be taken with a grain of salt."
Hey, HuffPo: pot, kettle, black...?
Sometimes ya just gotta laugh.