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Michael Jackson is dead and that cannot be fixed

July 6, 2009
Michael Jackson is dead and that cannot be fixed
Monday, July 06th, 2009 | Author: Maryan Pelland

Michael Jackson is dead and I’ll be dipped if I can figure out why, after more than a week, he’s still the lead on the nightly, daily, and noonly news. For me, it’s sad that a human life ended, especially such an obviously tragic, possibly empty, and likely regretable life. He died because he was taking drugs that stopped his heart. That, too, makes me sad. The stupidity of it. The waste. The lameness. I felt the same when Balushi croaked.

What did Michael do to deserve all the hype and hoopla?

Am I wrong here? Was Michael Jackson not suspected of pedophilia? Did he not pay a huge hush money settlement to the family of a child he allegedly molested? I’ll happily change my mind, if someone can cite the material or information that exonerated him.

Isn’t this the same singer whose record sales plummeted to nothing over the past couple of years? He was staging a comeback concert to help resolve millions of dollars of debt, yes?

Isn’t there a question about whether he even parented those kids held in post-mortem limelight?

Didn’t Michael dangle a masked, helpless infant upside down out a window? I SAW the video. So did you.

I don’t know the man. Never did, never wanted to. I hold all life as valuable and worthwhile. Ok, most life. Dunno about Gacy and those guys. Don’t know about mosquitos. I may not be able to revere them.

But this isn’t about the dignity of revering a death. It’s about a bunch of people frantically buying records made by a man who, two weeks ago, a month ago, a year ago, they hadn’t given a single thought to in eons. It’s about young adults rapidly approaching that big four-oh birthday. They’re panicking over the death of a washed-up celebrity who marched just ahead of their generation. It’s about seeing their group-mortality and attempting to somehow mask Michael’s tragic end — before they crash into their own.

We all get there. We all become mortal. When our parents die, we find ourselves the oldest generation in the family, mortal selves inexorably marching toward the end of a road.

My grandparents saw that milepost when Valentino died.

My parents felt it when Kennedy expired.

My peers and I – well, we had John Lennon.

Gen X or Y or whomever has Michael. God gave him a voice, a huge talent and the intelligence to parlay that into a money making business. He, himself made the darker choices. Michael is dead. You’re not. We have to move on now, no matter how long or short our road.

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