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Courtney Love Just Keeps Digging

July 4, 2009

True story: my dad has a friend who, at a business convention in Chicago, drunkenly wandered off the hotel premises, walked for about a quarter-mile in the dark, then tumbled several feet down a steep dirt incline.  This sobered him up slightly, and after he realized he was OK, with only a couple scrapes, he started scrambling around again—and fell down another embankment, only this one was about 20 feet high and concrete.  Again, only scrapes and bruises, but this time he was scared shitless and was much more careful making it back to his room.

Courtney, you’re half-way down the second embankment.

Visiting New York with your daughter, you trash an upscale hotel room in less than eight hours.  You leave dirty syringes and used feminine products everywhere and flood the floor, causing at least $5000 in damages, and not even after a concert!  You say that your recent transgressions stem from stress, mainly the loss of three-quarters of a billion dollars from Kurt’s estate.  That would probably eat a hole in my stomach, too.  But if the money’s going, you could try, say, working again to make ends meet?

It would be understandable, though still not excusable if you were still touring with Hole.  But come on: you’re 44 with a 16-year-old daughter who’s already been through enough without having to worry about being the adult in the relationship.  You’re reminding us of the mom in The Crow, except there’s no Brandon Lee who will be able to magic the heroin out of your veins.  Do you really expect us to believe “I have not taken drugs in five and a half years but I do have a syringe in here.  It’s for an emergency, [in case] I can’t see, and it’s very dangerous.”?  What do those sentences even mean?  It sounds like a junkie trying to talk her way out of an arrest, like “no, officer, this is a bag of oregano, and a respirator for my horse.”

So for your sake and your daughter’s I hope you land safely, but it will take a little effort on your part.

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