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Whitney Houston, as devoted Hung Up readers may recall, is my favorite celebrity. I was raised by women who loved Whitney Houston; I was raised to love Whitney Houston. Her voice sounds like honey, like cashmere, like being under a weighted blanket cradling my favorite pillow, like standing in the middle of a dance floor with everyone I have ever loved. As a child I watched The Preacher’s Wife and thought: She is simply the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. “Fine” is on every pregame playlist I’ve ever made (yes I am a single mother waiting for the babysitter and also the child support check); Her “Natural Woman” is such a masterpiece of horniness and desire and the only time I have ever appreciated someone covering Aretha Franklin. Yes, Clive Davis made…
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