I try to stay away from celebrity bashing, especially since it’s too easy these days. Why write about Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Jamie Lynn and Britney Spears when I could offer my opinion on more important issues, such as why the dining halls suck so much or why Mother Nature hates Binghamton (one more severe weather warning and I’m moving to Sioux Falls, South Dakota). Unfortunately, this column will have to forgo these previously mentioned concerns in order to address a certain singer’s success at the 50th Annual Grammy Awards last Sunday (I’m sure you missed it).

Amy Winehouse had six Grammy nominations, one each for “Record of the Year,” “Album of the Year,” “Song of the Year,” “Best New Artist,” “Best Female Pop Vocal Performance” and “Best Pop Album.” She won all except “Album of the Year,” which was taken home by Herbie Hancock (some old-timer who plays the piano). The troubled singer was not even present at the televised show and performed via satellite from London.

I’m always the first to congratulate someone on their success, but this time, I’m going to have to voice my disagreement. She should not have won those so-called “prestigious” Grammys. She is a gifted vocalist, but her controversial public image makes her a poor role model. Many people say that her music should not be judged by her personal turmoil, but the reason why the song “Rehab” has been so popular — which also contradicts their claim — is because it is about her life.

As a musician, she must understand that her life is constantly in the spotlight. I agree that people have become too immersed in the lives of celebrities, but Amy Winehouse legitimately needs help.

The bizarre domestic violence between Winehouse and her now-incarcerated husband were the first warning signs of trouble, and her affirmation of her battle against depression and an eating disorder confirmed it. A 19-minute video of a female, alleged to be Winehouse, doing drugs surfaced. In the video, she snorts powdered ecstasy and cocaine while admitting she just took six Valium pills. Later on, she’s seen smoking a crack pipe. That’s right, I said crack. Crack is cocaine cut with cheap household cleaning products, usually baking soda.

Let me recap: A crackhead won five Grammys this year. Doesn’t that seem a little wrong to anyone or am I just a hater?

Of course, people say her life is harder because she’s famous. If anything, our lives are harder because we’re not. We attend a school in the middle of nowhere where it rains and then freezes on the ground so we can be wet and then fall. We eat food not even prisoners of war would touch and suffer from massive amounts of boredom. Yet, you don’t see us smoking crack, or if you do, you have the good sense not to videotape it.

Being famous is not a burden, it’s a privilege. People are willing to illegally download your album and go to your shows; the least you can do is try to appear like a decent human being. Although I’ve lost respect (and interest) in the content of the Grammys a long time ago, now the awards themselves have lost their prominence. Self-respecting musicians should look elsewhere for recognition, like the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards.