Dear Readers,
Many of you have noted my silence on the subject of Michael Jackson’s death. Some of you have sent me threatening emails demanding that I weigh in on “the tragic event” or “the media exploitation of a great man”.
I’ve been avoiding the topic for several reasons:
1. I was forced to be cynical about MJ’s passing because
1a. I saw people weeping on the streets
1b. My co-worker spent an entire afternoon watching MJ videos and weeping at her desk
1c. Several of my friends/acquaintances were acting like they knew him personally and that his death would affect their lives.
1d. I hate when people get on the sadness bandwagon
2. People die all the time. It’s always sad, but not always tragic. I didn’t see anyone crying when Benazir Bhutto was murdered, for example, and that was an actual tragedy.
3. 50 is pretty old for a drug addict
4. I didn’t know Michael Jackson personally.
5. I read all the Vanity Fair articles covering his child molestation trails. So…(cough cough)
6. It’s true: he didn’t have a childhood and had an awful dad and was exploited by everyone in his life…but there are a lot of kids who grow up in Gary Indiana with worse dads and worse childhoods and they don’t get to have a chimp for a pet or a ferris wheel in their backyard.
7. I was busy preparing myself to go to the Taste of Chicago.
I did feel sad when I heard the news. I felt a normal, selfish, reminiscing-about-my-childhood sadness. My earliest musical memories are from Thriller, just like many of yours. But seeing footage of people hanging rose garlands on the gates of Neverland Ranch and sobbing made my heart grow crusty and cold. In fact, I threw my gum at some tourists who I overheard saying “I just don’t know what I’ll do now that Michael Jackson is gone”. I didn’t feel good about doing it, but the cynical part of my brain took over for a moment.
If you want things to be sad about apart from your personal woes, I understand that. But don’t make me be an asshole by pretending you own a piece of Michael Jackson. Think about me, people.
Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me
