I took a break from all media last week. So that meant no TV or computer. None the less some things filtered through. My husband told me that Amy Winehouse had died. Well, that's not particularly surprising, to be honest. What was more surprising was that some one had murdered 98 people in Norway, the majority of them children.
My husband was very frustrated by people acting like, because Amy Winehouse died that she was some sort of amazing legend and that her death was the same kind of tragedy as what happened in Norway.
It took all I had not to get on Facebook and start ranting. I refrained, and I'm glad I did. I didn't need to get sucked into the negativity and idiocy that Facebook tends to bring out in people.
But now I am free to rant.
Look, it is sad when anyone dies. I am sad for Winehouse's family and friends. I am mostly sad for them about what she put them through while she was alive. They say she was clean when she died, but her death was still caused by drugs and alcohol. Years of it taking it's toll on her body, finally. And that sucks. I agree.
But it does not make her some sort of legend all of a sudden. And it is not even close to the same as children being slaughtered at summer camp. Not. Even. Close.
When you do drugs or drink to access, you are making a choice. You know that you will die if you do meth, or heroin. You decide to kill yourself that way. The only decision the Norwegians made was to go to summer camp. To sleep in a tent and hang out with other people who have the same beliefs as you. To have a good time. They did not choose to die.Some maniac made that decision for them. He fooled them, dressed as a police officer, gestured them closer and then shot them.
98 people murdered. I can not sit here and think that a woman who was gradually killing herself is more important then that. Because she's not. My heart is for Norway. I spare grief and prayers for Winehouse's family, but the majority of them are better served across the ocean.