Whitney Houston:
Like any other popular singer or actor who dies before accomplishing nonagenarian status, the entire nation shuts down to fixate on the death of Whitney Houston. We did it for Michael Jackson, we did it for Heath Ledger, we even did it for that deep-fried mess, Anna-Nicole Smith
Whitney’s been a non-entity for well over a decade, but all of a sudden she bites it in the bathtub, and suddenly we want to rip Dolly Parton’s head off for having the audacity to call a song she wrote ‘hers.’
The profiteers and ghouls certainly stepped in. Reportedly, the room the poor woman died in is booked solid for the foreseeable future. Everything had to be stripped from the room in order to stave off souvenir hounds, but I’m sure somebody’s already selling off vials of her bathwater.
Warner Bros. has yanked “The Bodyguard” from Netflix’s streaming service because they plan on making a killing from DVD sales, and Sony Music got caught inflating the cost of Houston’s albums on iTunes.
Yes, she had an amazing voice in her younger days, and yes, I even own a copy of “Whitney” myself. But the sad truth is that she traded diva for dope and that was the end of it. This infamy is why anyone even cares that she died so suddenly.
At this rate, when Lindsay Lohan finally goes toes-up, we’ll have her lying in state.
ESPN Slur:
I’m not a Knicks fan, and I wasn’t even awake at 2:30 a.m. on Saturday, so I didn’t catch the faux pas in which Anthony Federico posted a headline on ESPN’s website containing the phrase in regards to Jeremy Lin.
It was a poor choice of words because Jeremy Lin is, of course, of Chinese descent.
The question is context.
Did Federico use the phrase in a poor attempt at racial humor, or was he merely parroting an earlier statement made by Max Bretos?
Breton’s use of the phrase refers to a weakness and was properly, if unfortunately, used and upon scrutiny was obviously not intended to be used as a racial epithet.
Federico either knew what he was doing and was trying to be clever, or meant it innocently. Either way, firing him was probably a bit of overkill.
More appropriately, Federico should have gotten Breton’s 30 day suspension, and Breton should have been asked to never use the slur while covering a Knicks game. The Houston Rockets are fair game this year, however.
Megacon:
The worst sort of geek descended on Orlando this weekend: the fanboys and fangirls. Born out of the much smaller Star Trek conventions of yore, Megacon is just a huge gathering of the worst parts of nerd culture fandom.
There’s plenty of angry defenders of these cons who argue in favor of the conventioneers, swearing up and down that they lead normal lives and just like to make costumes and show them off from time to time. Of course, then you discover their DeviantArt account is filled with thousands of drawings of them as an over-sized cartoon baby wolf in a huge, sopping diaper.
A guy in Spock ears is one thing, and even a guy in a convincing Darth Vader outfit can be forgiven. A 300 pound near-shut-in 30 year-old with a neck-beard dressed up like Naruto and arguing loudly with some asexual Autist about Inuyasha is another thing altogether.
I’ve attended fan conventions before, and have even attended E3 in Los Angeles, so the odor of masses of unwashed mouth breathers is nothing new to me. But even I cannot fathom Megacon’s mingling of new and improved stinks wafting from crowds of Furries in suits soaked with various body fluids and obese virgins in one piece, jumpsuit-style super hero costumes in which flatulence can only escape from neck and arm holes. Everything mingled with the smell of wet garbage and Axe body spray is considered by the delusional to be an acceptable alternative to daily baths.
The icing on this fecal cheesecake? They manage to somehow raise enough money to get celebrities to voluntarily attend.
