Gossip = Dead People?

My baby sister Kimberly (who isn't really all that much of a baby... but that's still the way I think of her) wrote this incredible letter and sent me a copy of it.

I asked for her permission to put a copy of it here on my blog since I find it incredibly challenging and insightful for our media obsessed culture.

Heath Did I Help Kill You?

I, as most Canadians do every morning, get up at 6am, get the kids dressed, make sure they brush their teeth, get them out the door, drop them off at day care - all while balancing a coffee mug. Once at work I turn on my computer, heave a sigh of relief now that the morning insanity is over and head right to Perez Hilton, TMZ and X17 for all the gossip I missed while in bed last night.

However, even before arriving at work this morning I heard the news: Heath Ledger passed away of a possible overdose. I immediately thought, OMG, did I do this!?!? I know some may think that that’s a weird reaction, because obviously I’ve never known the man, I’ve never set foot in New York City, and I’m certainly not the doctor that prescribed him those sleeping pills. But I had a need to know everything about him, in as much the same way as Britney has fascinated me lately. Heath was one of my #1 guy’s. You know that famous Friends “Top Five List” (you know what I’m talking about!)? He was my #2, right after Ewan McGregor, so I followed his career and love life closely like so many others.

But as I watch my favorite celebs rising to unmeasurable success and than spiraling to dramatic deaths, I now think: are my prying eyes the reason for their downfall? Is constant monitoring (AKA stalking) by the paparazzi making them overwhelmingly self-conscience or even paranoid to the point they require medical treatment? Gone are the days of a classy Mary Heart having an intimate interview with Robert DeNiro. We shred our celebrities apart nowadays.

Are the paparazzi feeding me or am I feeding them? I would have to say the later. It’s time for us all to accept that we, us innocent working mothers and bored-at-work web junkies, have made the actions of these vulturous photographers, “acceptable”.

I’m sorry Perez, I love you, but I just can’t kill another one. My lust for more gossip has to end before another life does. The yucky taste I had in my mouth the morning Diana died is back again. I’m sorry Heath, I hope I didn’t steal a part of your soul. Forgive me Britney, I’ll leave you alone. I can only pray others follow my lead.

My sister rocks!


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