Not just here, but all over. The internet, TV, the radio—I find the sudden outpouring regarding Michael Jackson’s death very very strange. The very fact that you’re lamenting it at all is probably what perplexes me the most.
For years you people have been ridiculing this man. Hell, forget years. For DECADES you’ve been mocking him. God forbid a Michael Jackson song came on at a bar or a BBQ or a cocktail party—because there’d be at least ONE joke about his effeminate voice, his skin, his botched rhinoplasty, his marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, his kids, his lifestyle, or the recent favorite, his alleged child molestation. You capitalized on it all for your cheap laughs.
And you know why you did that? It’s a subject I’ve broached before with regard to first-world society. It’s because you revel in the falling of the elite from grace. Artists, politicians, celebrities, CEOs—when they get caught doing something monumentally stupid, embarrassing, or illegal, you pounce on it like the rabid jackals you are. Sometimes I truly believe that if you could bathe in their blood, you probably would. Why? Because it makes you feel better about your own pathetic lives. It’s a petty little jealousy you have of them that makes you take in a sick and vulgar satisfaction when something bad happens to them. You did it to Britney. You did it to Martha. You did it to Vick. You did it to Paris. You did it to Kobe. And for years upon years upon years you’d been doing it to Michael.
Yet, here you are, now mourning his death. Now you’re suddenly faced with the striking realization that the guy who wrote such GREAT songs like “Smooth Criminal” and “Billie Jean” and “Pretty Young Thing” is gone—and that no one will EVER be able to replace him. You’ll never again see anyone that did the Moonwalk quite as perfectly as he did. You’re listening to The Jackson 5 with such sudden nostalgia. “ABC” is kicking up memories of your youth at the beach, or cruising down the boardwalk, or smiling and dancing out on the back deck during that summer BBQ. And now that he’s suddenly and inexplicably dead, you quickly understand that here was a guy that could NEVER be replaced. And you do so knowing how much you took him for granted. For all your blathering about your contempt for pop, and the merits of your lame-ass indie rock and garage-band emo that made you seem SOOOO unique, you’re bobbing your head and smiling as Michael ALLOWED HIMSELF to “Rock With You.” You know that, despite your jeers, you’ll never get another “Beat It” or “Thriller.” Not really.
Yet again, you people should be ashamed. Of your ridiculing of him in the past, and your hypocrisy towards his death now. Here you are, now mourning the passing of who TRULY WAS, and always will be The King of Pop. One of the greatest American artists who has ever existed. It makes me sick.
I have met very few people in life who have ever been wholly defensive of Michael Jackson. I don’t care if he ever molested children. If there was one man that EARNED THE RIGHT TO, it was Michael Jackson. Not to say that it’d be ok to molest kids, but that I’d forgive him for it if it turned out that he had. He’s Michael Jackson. Let him. You people threw enough bad karma his way (not that I believe in such things), that I think a few molested kids would pretty much even out the karmic scales. If ANYONE earned themselves a little latitude, it was Michael Jackson. For all you people who ever said he was crazy, did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s because people like you DROVE him crazy with your constant ridicule and your smug hatred? The man could do no wrong in my book. He was Michael freakin’ Jackson.
One of my fondest memories in life was with my two best friends in the world, as we sat drinking at this little dive bar outside Boston, feeding $20 after $20 into the jukebox in a constant stream of Michael Jackson songs—that we sang ALL the words to, and when we weren’t holding a beer in our hands, also danced to. In an hour, we’d chased out anyone over 40. Later, we almost got in a no-bullshit alley fight that night because we wouldn’t let up—and the only reason we didn’t was because we were throwing down bills at the bar, and the bartender (a Jackson fan, no less) got our back for it in appreciation. Every time someone tried to trump MJ, we’d throw in another $20 and not only trump his song—but the next 10 songs following. Everyone else was ready to kill us for it. Screw them, it was a Michael Jackson kind of night.
Michael Jackson was one of the greats, and I will truly miss him. The rest of you don’t deserve to. You can try to lamely justify it with your idiotic notions of “mourning any time someone dies” or “death is always a terrible thing”—but I see right through it. You ridiculed him for years. You don’t have the RIGHT to mourn him now.
You people can go to hell. And when you do, I hope you look up and see Michael Jackson moonwalking in Heaven.