…so the conceit of those who are so informed and know the true ethics, affects, and morals of the outcomes of a person’s life and afterlife can be vented.

The arrogance of people throwing their “expertise” around on the subject of addiction, death, suicide, etc. has amazed me in the last 24 hours.

I guess people need something that makes them sound relevant.

They don’t know how to celebrate so they speculate and preach.  They convince themselves it’s compassion, cloaking their words in “caring” language but they’re merely grasping for a second in the spotlight.

Real tributes and celebration talk about the person’s life.  They don’t speculate what that person was going through when it doesn’t matter.  Yes, I said it.  It doesn’t matter. It’s over.  We’re all grieving, and no one wants to be dissected after they’re gone when it does not benefit the rest of us.

  • We know what depression is.
  • We know what addiction is.

We have a small window of on air celebration time for this wonderful man and wasting it with bullshit false “concern” by having psychologists and “addiction specialists” breaking down his life is disrespectful and tacky.

These shrinks have never met him and would do the same psycho-analysis for any other celebrity, for the same amount of air time and cash.

It’s sad that I’m actually thrilled not be famous because if I died IN ANY way, I know that this is what people would do.  Turn it into a social justice frenzy to sooth their own minds.  It used to be the paparazzi that was frustrating, now it’s how people behave when you’re dead.

So, since everyone is using a wonderful, creative, genius’s death to post and vent their thoughts, I’m posting mine.  And I feel filthy doing so, believe me.

How he died is frankly none of my business.  How he lived is what I, from afar, was blessed by.



The end of my rant.  So much love to this incredible artist, legend, and man.  #Bangarang