Can you believe it, a serious article from Dr. Nostrum as I take a moment to reflect on a recurring nightmare.
Though we are no closer to finding a meaning for Jade Goody's life, in one of the clearest predictions of 2009 (and yes, foul and cynical as I am, hopefully beyond) there will be a long examination for the meaning of her death and it's place as 'Entertainment' on our screens.
(cue bubbly airhead teen voice over) 'Read all about brave Jade's losing battle with Cancer and get 20 great Credit Crunch Cancer beating looks! Only in this week's edition of Uber-Voyeur, only £1.20 at all good Newsagents!'
I really don't think I will. In fact I know I can't. So I will become one of those hated commentators (surely - 'contentators') that pontificate on the morals of this most exquisite hell of an exploitation at a distance. You see, I'm not interested in the minutiae of Jade's serialised death throe, but then, I don't like Slasher films or Grand Theft Auto so I probably exist in a tiny vacuum. No, more than not interested; phobic.
There isn't a simultaneously less important yet more vicarious life and all it's for is so we can enjoy our pity and scorn at a scripted reality the Truman Show would've junked as unbelievable.
Look, there is a regular lighter and crueler side to Dr. Nostrum's Jade jibes and yes, saving her skin is a reasonable charitable enterprise so it can be pegged out and displayed as a lesson to all those who seek fame for fame's sake, but something has clearly gone wrong and not only in my brain.
There must be a point at which we recognise our Nero's fiddling as Rome burns. I humbly submit that serialising, trivialising and repackaging the slow death of a young, questionably smart, woman into a Television Reality Soap and glib Trashazine Hooks for the financial benefit of the Media well beyond the financial benefit to her family is one of those markers.
I don't have any morals up here in the cloud, because it's all make believe, but you down there...