When Whitney Houston died I felt great sadness. My sadness of course was about our collective loss - when you listened to this nightingale sing your body would drop into a chair your head would tilt up a small smile would creep across your face and inside you knew that there was a higher power somewhere: gifted beautiful spiritual.
Hobbies of any kind are boring except to people who have the same hobby. This is also true of religion although you will not find me saying so in print.