So yeah…Michael Jackson died. 50 years old. I remember back to ’82 when Jackson’s 6th studio album “Thriller” was released. I watched the video on its release date on channel M of my cable box (M-TV).
Fast forward to today. Allegations of pedophilia, horrific plastic surgery gone wrong, bleached skin and a generally weird lifestyle. Contract marriages, kids and debt. Most people, if you had asked them 2 weeks ago, would have said they felt Jackson was a sick nutcase. A has-been. At worst, a washed out pedophile who had the money to get away with it. Or at best a pitiful shell of a man that was scared of his culture and heritage. But the point is, the general feeling toward him would have been negative, possibly caveated by some sort of statement about “Thriller” being his best album and some statement to the effect of wondering where he went wrong.
But now that he is dead…everyone loves him. He is compared with Elvis…Queen Elizabeth…Jesus Christ. He could do no wrong and all of his music was simply the best. Radio stations that previously refused to ever play his dated songs suddenly switched to playing entire discs at once without commercial programming. He is suddenly a role model, a pop icon…the best that ever was and quite possibly the king of all music.
This sucks. People are such hypocrites. I still dislike him…I dislike how he acted, how he looked and how he felt about little boys. His death has not made me love him, listen to him or make him an idol of worship. RIP…Jackson…but know that I am not a hypocrite.