You Knew It Was Coming

So yeah, Michael Jackson died on Thursday. What can I say about him that hasn't already been said? His life, "Wacko Jacko", the allegations, the surgeries, the skin color changing.....yadda, yadda, yadda. I've heard it all before, and frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't know if he did what he was accused of. I don't know if he bleached his skin. I don't know if he bought the Elephant Man's bones or slept in a hyperbaric chamber or whatever. At this point, I don't really care.

What I remember is four year old me, dancing to and singing along with the "Thriller" video, watching "The Making of Thriller" over and over, wanting to meet him, adoring him, worshipping him. I remember seven year old me trying to Moonwalk down the slick wooden floor of my elementary school, and promptly falling on my ass and then conking my head. I remember the one glove, the Pepsi commercial, staying up to watch him on television, singing along with every damned song of his that became popular.

I grew up listening to him and the Jackson 5. He was highly influential on how my musical tastes developed. Some people think he has no musical genius. I think they are full of crap. His singing, his dance moves, his fame...they have influenced generations of musicians. He was not just some one trick pony with one hit and then forgotten. He was HUGE. He was a phenomenon.

In the days and weeks to come, we'll be inundated with news about him, mostly the worst parts and the most awful tidbits. We'll see the termites come out of the woodwork. We'll see his "friends" turn on him and tell all they know for a quick buck. We'll see his family fighting over anything and everything that belonged to him. And we'll see Jesse Jackson (gads, I can't stand him) talk his head off about everything, while knowing NOTHING.

I prefer to remember Michael as the shy young guy who sang and danced his heart out during my youth, who gave his all in each and every thing he did. Rest in peace, Michael. I still adore your music.