sad spectacle

I am embarrassed to say at some point less than ten years ago, I owned the same tuxedo shirt casey anthony had on today. Mine was solid white tho, neither striped nor pink. This was what i noticed when I watched the verdict being read to her today. This is how desensitized I’ve become to the whole story. (Also it is possible that I am a *wee* bit exceptionally cynical).

I didn’t follow the whole saga that closely the past few weeks. It felt like a gallows situation. People who go to watch a public execution. Why do we as a culture take pleasure in watching something so tragic? What does it say about us that we obsess over THIS (of all things), that we pass JUDGEMENT on these sick, sad souls? Does it boost our own sense of superiority?

In spite of my supposed disapproval, I too dipped in every once in a while to hear the latest details. They were perverse, sad, bizarre. And I kept wanting more. How to explain this? There are too many reasons to count. The only way to stop it is to stop it. Like eating junk food, feeding off negative drama and gossip only leads to bad long-term health. It takes discipline to break the habit. note to self: turn off the garbage and read a book.

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