No sports this week. Just some thoughts on Michael Jackson’s death and humanity’s response to it.
First of all, the Ayatollah had Michael Jackson killed to distract us from Iran.
I’ve come across an article that really blew my mind. So much of this story has made me cringe, but here’s a few things that really detail some of my gripes about humans and news organizations.
Man on the street, Michael Harris said “It’s like when Kennedy was assassinated,” he told the Associated Press. “I will always remember being in Times Square when Michael Jackson died.”
I’m not sure if this is a symptom or the illness, but why are we always looking for a JFK moment? These things declare themselves, but I swear to god every time something big happens, it is referred to as “It’s like when Kennedy was assassinated”
No, Michael Harris, it’s like when Michael Jackson died. Simple. Clear. A famous man died and everyone knew who he was.
Another moron with a microphone stuffed in their face:
“I grew up with his music. I used to wear Michael Jackson T-shirts every day to school,” (an unidentified fan) told CBS. “At my work I was the Michael Jackson freak! I loved him so much. I don’t know what to say. I’m just really sad. I think I’m going to start crying.”
I’ll just say this, I am so happy I don’t work with this person. To be known as “The Michael Jackson freak”, in 2009, and to be proud of it really says a lot about you.
Its almost like this person was happy he died, I’m sure the next day or two were filled with words of condolence, because the “Michael Jackson Freak” must have felt it so much more than anyone else…
Isn’t the term “Michael Jackson Freak” redundant anyway?
Anyways, as the days have gone on since the “King of Pop’s” passing, my irritation with society has grown. A few things to get off my chest…
Michael Jackson was not a great man. He was no Mother Theresa, no great philanthropist. He’s not like the guy who shovels his sidewalk in the winter or the guy tailgating you on your way to work. He’s not a person any of us can comprehend. I’ll leave his physical appearance alone, I’ll leave the low hanging fruit for others. I’m talking about the life of Jacko, his behavior and his actions for the last 20 years. This person hasn’t lived in the same world as you and I do for decades. If Jacko hadn’t been so Wacko, he would be thought of on the same lines as Prince, or David Bowie, eccentric musical superstars with incredible talent and extremely devoted fans. To me, Madonna is the best analogy for him, a former superstar becoming increasingly irrelevant in todays society. Still putting out albums and making headlines, occasionally going on tour and selling out arenas and stadiums world wide, but known as a star who’s brightest days are behind her. Instead, he became this Boo Radley figure, a larger than life recluse, a physical freak, a man everyone had a comment about, an opinion of, a joke to share. He became PeeWee Herman meets Howard Hughes, a bizzarro representative of the human race.
Yet people fall all over themselves to talk about how much they mourn his passing. They flood the streets of New York and Los Angeles. Stars book interviews and jump on planes to appear at the BET awards, all to show everyone how much they care, how relevant they are, how appreciative of his music and how much forgiveness for his lifestyle they had.
Let’s forget about the alleged molestation charges and plastic surgery. (again, too easy…)Let’s just take a little snapshot of the type of world Jacko lived in.
His three kids are named Paris Michael, Prince Michael and Prince Michael II (or as he was known, Blanket). Yes, Blanket.
If he was your neighbor or friend and he named his children these names you would mock him and question his sanity.
Two of these children are alleged to be from in vitro fertilization involving Jacko’s dermatologist (what a job, Michael Jackson’s skin doctor… ) and a woman who is yet unidentified, but rumored to not be the children’s “mother” Debbie Rowe.
The third child, Prince Michael II, (or Blanket), is alleged to be the result of a surrogate German mother who was fertilized with donated eggs and sperm.
If the person who so proudly refers to themselves as the “Michael Jackson Freak” worked next to someone who told that story about themselves, who would have been labeled “the freak” then? (and discussed ad nauseam behind their backs.) No one says, “I’m the Larry in accounting Freak!” Instead they say, “Have you met Larry, that guy in accounting?” “What a freeeeeeeeaak”
This is a guy who, while staying as a guest of the Prince of Bahrain sends his nanny to go buy a couple million dollars worth of crappy antiques in Florence, Italy, even though at the time he was hundreds of millions of dollars in debt and had no home of his own. (The antiques were put in storage.) The nanny was for his children technically, but according to various interviews and accounts she took care of him as well.
He had no concept of money or value, no understanding of what being an adult human being on the planet earth involved. He didn’t pay his children’s nanny or housekeepers, couldn’t care for himself or his own children, (or someone’s children anyway), couldn’t converse like a normal person. The guy was a child. He never grew up. He never figured out how things are done. If you dumped Michael Jackson on the street somewhere with twenty bucks and a prepaid cell phone he might not be able to find his way home. Ever.
Yet he was adored. Because he could dance and because he and his songwriters and producers made some great music that people identified with. Because people love kids, and puppies, and adults who make music that touched their hearts when they were young and free and innocent.
And they looooove to cybermourn. Which is not a word. Yet. When it makes into the dictionary I want credit.
By the hundreds of thousands, twitterers dropped Iran and Neda like a bad habit. Facebook and Myspace and Cornhole and message boards in every language filled up with “rEsT IN PeaCE KiNg of Pop” Every major news organization in the Milky Way abandoned the Iranian resistance instantly. (that story was getting old anyway, you can only talk breathlessly about the bravery of these people for so long before the public tunes you out.)
So Neda and her symbol of hope and freedom was replaced in avatars everywhere. People silently changed their “location” from Tehran to Neverland. Everyone had a chance to talk about how deeply Michael Jackson’s music touched them, meaning, they had a chance to talk about themselves, which is really what they wanted to discuss anyway when you get right down to it.
Oh, and North Korea threatening to shoot a NUCLEAR MISSILE at the United States? That didn’t stand a chance. I mean, they were only threatening Hawaii anyway.
At least I got to hear “Beat It” 647,000 times in the last week.
He sure beat it alright. And this mock mourning period our nation (and world) suffers under? It will be washed away in an instant by something else. The Yemeni plane crash didn’t do it, it was too soon and because after all, they’re Yemeni.
But Jacko’s days are numbered. My money is on the fourth of July. America will get wasted and fatter and high on firework fumes and the stench of two stroke gasoline engines and on July 5th we will turn the page. His memorial service at the Staples Center will be covered, of course, but by then our nations collective focus will have shifted. It will be back to trying to describe what the girl on “Wipeout” did before she fell on her face and landed in the muddy water. Uhhhhhhhmerica, land of the free and home of “Help, I’m a celebrity, get me out of here!”
This week’s game ball goes to Joseph Jackson.
With the world’s news media watching the first major presser from the Jackson family compound, Joe Jackson, universally credited for helping twist Michael Jackson into the freak show he was until the day he died, led off his statement by promoting his new record label. Joe was alongside Rev Al “The Ambulance Chaser” Sharpton, who wanted to help get his face on camera. I mean, who wanted to help protect Michael Jackson’s “legacy”. (where ya been Al? Like, when the guy was alive and tarnishing his legacy for the past 20 years?) Soon afterwards, it was leaked that Joe was left out of the will. No publicity is bad publicity, right Joe? Hey everyone, next time it’s Joe Jackson’s birthday (July 26th), celebrate by beating and mentally abusing your kid. It’s for their own good.
Next week, “normalcy” returns. Happy Birthday America! (Yeeeeee-Haa!)