Not a King—Just a Sad, Strange Talent
I am already tired of Michael Jackson’s funeral, and it hasn’t even started. I have to agree with Elizabeth Taylor, who is not attending, because she doesn’t want to share her grief amid the whoopla of millions.
People seem very polarized about Michael Jackson. Either they are in collective denial, or they thing he was just a wacko. He was a very talented musician who entertained millions and broke records at Billboard. But he was a strange cross between a shrewd businessman and a lost child. That the media is making his self-appointed coronation as “King of Pop” is too much.
That the City of Los Angeles, which is broke, is footing the $4-million tab for the funeral, is too much.
That no one ever questions the parents who sent their children for overnights at Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch is too much.
The media keeps going on about “celebrating his life and his music.” Well, celebrate the music, but lament a life wasted and lost in self-loathing and excess. To “celebrate” such a strange, sad man would be, again, too much. The real sad thing here is that the man seemed to destroy himself, despite having money, friends, family, and children. It seems everyone enabled him to destroy his image, then his body, then his life. Americans delight in the downfall of their celebrities, but no one pays any serious attention to getting them help, and they are the most able to access therapy and treatment.
And that too, is too much.