I Killed Whitney Houston

Okay, I’m lying. I think. Unless God actually does follow me on Twitter.

I’m sure by now, we’ve all heard about Whitney Houston‘s untimely demise over the weekend.

Let me start out by saying, I am not a terrible person. A life ending is a sad thing. I know this. Whitney Houston was a great talent and she will be missed by the millions of fans she left behind. I’m not really going to go into the fact that Ms. Houston was a bit before my time and I didn’t have much of an emotional connection to the singer because that makes me look bad. But she was, and I didn’t.

Now, I will show you why I feel responsible for the death of a legendary musician 3 time zones away:

Twitter is Dangerous

I sent this tweet Friday night, about 18 hours before Houston’s reported time of death. It was supposed to be a joke. I know, I’m not funny. I also know that God has better things to do than check Twitter (he could procrastinate on social media like the rest of us) so I’m not feeling an overwhelming sense of bone-crunching, gut-wrenching guilt about this coincidence.

But I am going to tweet about winning the lottery next week. Y’know, just in case.

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