The Trouble with Amy Winehouse

Shame on you! Yes you, that is if your name is Amy Jade Winehouse.

Never mind the fact that her maiden name is synonymous with house overflowing with wine in Igbo dialect, it doesn’t necessarily mean she should be gulping down gallons each time she manages to drag herself up from bed, as if her life depended on it.

What is your concern? I hear you protest! I will tell you.

I don’t want to read the newspaper comments about Amy Winehouse.

I don’t want to hear how troubled she’s become since becoming famous; neither do I wish to know how many white substances she’d been taken.

Honestly, I don’t want to know how many joints she smokes in a day.

It wouldn’t affect my little world if I don’t know how many bottles of gin she orders for breakfast or how many she drinks just to kick her body fluids into action before staggering out to do a gig.

And please, don’t inform me about Amy’s husband’s bad behaviour and why he’d ended up in her majesty’s prison, if he is only going to be pampered with special privileges for being an unrepentant prat.

You know what; I am so fed up to my right ear lobe only, with the entire “celebrat” connivance thing going on.

It’s always the same little brats in the media all the time.

Oh no, not for saving the planet or donating part of their fortune to millions of under privileged kids around the globe.

No, they are in my face, as front page news in most papers for stuffing their faces with illicit drugs, using foul language and leering at the rest of us.

Celebrats like Amy Winehouse, if nothing else should be grateful to the rest of us who are foolish enough to put our hard earned economic crunched cash into her pockets via her record company through the purchase of her records.

“Rehad” comes into mind! I’m sure she could afford to pay for a proper treatment if that’s what the doctor ordered. Will she do it? Your answer is in the lyrics as NO, NO, NO!

I keep asking myself! How could anyone be this rich and yet so miserable?

At just 25, and in her prime, this celebrat should be bustling with the energy of youth.

Of course, she’s attained the age when most youths think they’re invincible. No doubt, it is an age of stubborn assertiveness, of unbridled rebellion against not only society’s law and order, but against anything else that suggest an element of reasonable control.

Again, I reserve no sympathy for this subject.

In my opinion, this is the time to celebrate her life, fame and fortune or whatever that is left of it because it may be all gone tomorrow.

The unfortunate reality of life is whether you’re a prince or pauper, famous or aspiring, there is always a price to pay for recklessness; for excesses.

What most fail to see including Miss Winehouse, is the inherent warning signs of self inflicted substance abuse and the precariousness of youthful exuberance.

Some social commentators in the media have branded Miss Winehouse “a troubled singer.”

I am sorry, but you don’t drag yourself into the gutter and expect everyone else to be pitiful.

I am definitely not.

Fame is a fickle thing, but then again some handle it maturely, no matter what life throws at them. Some eternally blame others for their lingering problems, be it alcohol, drugs or street brawling.

While others grow closer to being the proverbial insane person who brings avoidable embarrassment, firstly to their families and then the rest of us, but are blind to what all the fuss is about.

Those really concerned about her true welfare should muscle in now and help rescue this star whose light is gradually fading fast before she slides into the abyss of no return. Twilight!