I usually stay out of the celebrity gossip discussion and writing schtick, because, frankly, I suck at it.

I’m just no good at keeping track of who’s zoomin’ who, and dating who, and blowing what up (or down) whatever orifice. I can’t remember who Ben Affleck ended up married to or George Clooney is dating and which celebrity is bearing - or adopting - a litter of kids. Hell, I can barely keep up with people in my own family who are having babies. I honest to God recently thought to myself “I wonder if my cousin’s wife had her baby yet?” only to realize, with a start, that I think I went to that kid’s christening!

My point, and I do have one, is that I’m not “above” the whole “let’s clutter our minds with random facts about celebrities” thing. I’m just no good at it.

That said, no one with an iota - even the slightest little black shriveled speck - of a heart couldn’t feel it break just a little in learning about the death of John Travolta and Kelly Preston’s 16 year old son, Jett, last week.

They are parents. They lost their child. And no amount of fame, fortune, or a personally signed condolence card from Oprah can change what I imagine (but hope never, ever to find out firsthand) is the wrenching, howling, if only I could die with him pain of losing a child. Nothing would matter in that moment.

And yet, in the unavoidable media shark feeding frenzy that inevitably occurs after something like this, I learned a few things that made me somehow sadder still.

I don’t go looking for Paparrazi pap. Even so, regular media sources (CNN, Fox, etc.) have now swallowed the Kool-aid and think that they, too, are moonlighting for TMZ. Thus I was treated to the “heartwarming” story of how John and Kelly acted in their son’s final moments. The intimate details. What John said. What Kelly did. All courtesy of one of the EMTs who treated their son and transported his lifeless body with his parents still clinging to hope.

And, oh yes, it was reported (wait for it, here’s the heartwarming part) that when their firstborn child was truly pronounced dead and their hearts must surely have been dangling from their bodies and the very air in the world around them must have hurt just to breathe, John Travolta walked over, shook the hand of that EMT and thanked him for all he had done to try and save their son.

Thanked him.

And all I could think as I watched CNN was “and the bastard repaid John’s utter class and unbelievable kindness by giving media interviews and sharing John and Kelly’s last private moments with their son with the world.”

Nice.

Another “news” channel felt fit to share with us what “friends of John and Kelly” had to say about how Kelly sounded when she called to break the news that Jett was dead. Apparently we, as a nation, needed to know that “Kelly’s voice was cracking by the end of the call.”

As we used to say in the 8th grade, no sh#$ Sherlock.

All I can say is “with friends like that, who needs enemies?” Look, I know that celebrities aren’t like you and me. That said, I don’t care who you are or how much money, fame, power and beauty you have. When even people close enough to receive firstand personal calls about your wrenching personal pain are willing to share details of your conversation with Entertainment Tonight - you must feel awfully alone.

Your real friends, I would think, would build a circle of love and support around you and either shut the he@# up or, alternatively, punch out any paparazzi who dare get to close in your time of grief. Where the heck is Sean Penn hanging out these days anyway?

 I know it doesn’t impact ratings one bit and I won’t really change a thing but here in my own little corner of the world I don’t want to be party to it - and therefore part of it - any longer.

Don’t look to me to know anything more about “John and Kelly’s Private Pain” because honestly, it isn’t any of my dam@ed business anyway.

My new mantra is please don’t feed the paparazzi - and the shameless media pandering of “friends” who don’t seem very friendly at all.

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