I don't know what to say to the passing of someone who was both a huge influence on the world, and yet was entirely out of touch with it. My sympathies to his kids and family, of course. But I'm having a hard time feeling any personal grief or remorse for the man.
Of course he had an illustrious career and changed the face of music. Of course he had a tragic past and fractured childhood that invariably warped him and likely contributed to his descent into celebrity madness. He healed the world, told us it don't matter if we're black or white, and brought his message to every corner of the globe with shining, glittering, chimpanzee-swinging, hip-swiveling, crotch-grabbing, hair-blazing glory.
And somehow, I can't muster a tear for the guy.
Maybe I'm still in shock.
Perhaps I outgrew MJ too long ago for his passing to impress any emotion whatsoever upon me. I was a child of the 80's, terrified whenever Thriller came on the Much Music video channel; I will still dance to Billie Jean when it comes on the radio. I liked his stuff back in the 90's, when Macaulay Culkin was one of his best buds and I could still do the moonwalk without hearing my ankles snap, crackle and pop. But after that, nothing.
In my mind, MJ had become a footnote on the Hollywood and celebrity section of the commuter paper, a tinseltown Boogieman for me to roll my eyes at every time he popped up, warning the world: Look. This is what fame can do to you.
Perhaps in years to come, I might mourn the loss of this titan of entertainment. But for now, I absolutely dread the next five months of TV tributes, radio marathons, special edition magazines, unofficial biographies, re-released CDs, 24-hour news coverage, hats, T-shirts, sparkly gloves and more that will be churned out by everyone trying to cash in on his death.
The King is Dead: Long Live the King.
1 comment:
I feel exactly the same way you do because, in my mind, Michael Jackson died sometime in the 90s. Wacko Jacko died yesterday and now, Michael Jackson lives on in the afterglow of good will and collective nostalgia.
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