I can hear the strains of "I Will Always Love You" wafting from the televisor in the other room. I don't know who has to choke on their last cookie to get zombie Whitney Houston off my TeeWee screen, but I wish they'd hurry up and do it.
I don't know what it is, but there's nothing the media loves better than a dead celebrity (and that goes doubly if the celebrity in question was one of them. Tim Russert wasn't half the household name that Whitney Houston was, but the month of sackcloth and ashes decreed for him was of nearly Michael Jacksonian levels.)
I'm betting that the all-dead-celebrity, all-the-time cable channel has already been pitched to a boardroom someplace. They could call it GhoulTV or, as Bobbi suggested, "Solid Ghouled".
I'm also waiting for the first spotting of a Velvet Elvis portrait of MJ and Whitney side-by-side, busting beatific poses, à la a Byzantine icon, perhaps with Dale Earnhardt and Lady Di at their shoulders and the mighty host of Celeb Heaven gathered behind them...