In the middle of a meeting today, while I was talking, someone turned a laptop screen toward me, with the headline MICHAEL JACKSON DEAD, and it cracked me up in the middle of a sentence. Then the meeting was derailed for 10 minutes.
Totally inappropriate that my first reaction was laughter. Forget inappropriate, inexplicable. Unlike most people, I got nothing against MJ.
I am one of the few people who, if I had to bet, would bet that MJ didn’t molest those little kids. I’ve taken more than a little crap at parties defending this reasonable opinion.
I even own Invincible and I think that the album just before that with Scream on it is really really good. I was never a huge fan–would never have paid for a concert ticket, and I thought Thriller was way overrated–but I liked his stuff even after everyone was going Ick!
My wife texted me about this. She texts me about twice a year, usually WTF ARE YOU? EVERYONE’S WAITING.
I got home tonight and every cable news channel has pre-empted normal programming to cover this like a presidential assassination. Every channel is channeling every other channel–forget about those molestation accusations, a Great Man has passed. Even the jackals are subdued and have ceased howling for one night.
I can’t work because the internet is totally hosed. I lose my VPN every 30 seconds. I’m typing this into Notepad because I can’t reach my blog. MSN and Yahoo refresh only occasionally. This means a 5 am morning for me. Shit.
Really, this is this big? Like Elvis? I’m watching everyone who dismissed him a decade ago suddenly having a near-Kennedy moment.
I’ve always thought of MJ as tragic. He would probably have had a much better life had he been only as talented as his siblings.
MJ reminds me of the little boy in Jerome Bixby’s story “It’s a Good Life.” That great horror story was cartoonishly made into a hopeful parable in The Twilight Zone movie. In the movie version, Kathleen Quinlan, playing a hot visiting schoolteacher, rescues a little monster who was born with the ability to erase his mouthy sister’s mouth if she mouthed off or to wish people who really annoyed him into the cornfield. At the end of the movie, the little monster and the hot teacher drive off to a sunny future where she will teach him to tame his id. The original story didn’t end so sunnily.
MJ never got saved by his hot KQ teacher.
He had talent too big for his frame, predators around him all his life, nutjob Jehovah’s Witness parents, and the worst fucking case of body dysmorphic disorder in all history. Oh and a bazillion trazillion holyshit-kamillian bucks.
This is another one of those times when I am grateful for the number of people who can check my bullshit and refuse to grant my wishes unless I first climb down out of the tree.
It just hit me: all these Hollywood news media assholes really do feel guilty and that’s why they’re making such a big deal of this. They hounded this guy and now he’s dead and they smell their own stink on his corpse.