Can We Just Let Her Die Already?

Or at least let’s stop talking about it please? I understand that Amy Winehouse isn’t exactly a representation of the zenith of achievements in health, but do we really have to be forced to read about her floppy tits and her incoherent outbursts everyday?

The crack reporters at The Sun would love to tell us that Amy is smoking “ten spliffs a day on Caribbean isle St Lucia to suppress cravings for class-A drugs.” Oh what a trooper she is! She has to smoke 10 joints a day just so she doesn’t O.D. on the heavier drugs. What if no one cared what happened to Amy and she OD’d and died, wouldn’t that allow everyone connected to her and all the paparrazzi and journalists to go back to being somewhat contribuiting members of society?

Because right now, I would love to see Agent Smith from The Matrix sit in front of her and tell her that she is nothing but a virus. Gosh, if he had so much disdain for Neo and his fellow humans, I can’t even imagine what he would say to a hagged up Winehouse who is smoking a doob right in his face.

The amazing thing is she smokes all morning then sees her personal trainer in the afternoon and is put through a gruelling workout.

Is “amazing” the operative adjective here? She’s “put” through a greulling workout? No, I’m sure it’s the 10 joints that she chose to smoke that makes it greulling.

It’s amazing that this girl is still allowed to be alive. You know I’ve heard that in the the wild, the calf that is off smoking crack all day doing nothing to help the herd, is usally left for dead.