The final curtain call has been issued for Michael Jackson. For years he sang, danced, and smiled his way into our hearts and wallets. However, he eventually morphed into something unidentifiable. Was he a man or boy? human or thing? black or white? Love him or hate him, he was a musical legend, an icon, a "one-of-a-kind" phenomenon that can never, ever be duplicated.
If you're at least 20 years old, you've been exposed to Michael's music and legacy. We've danced to it, sang it, and imitated it in many talent shows and showers across the planet. We've laughed with him and at him, we've cried for him and with him. He was Michael Jackson, the man in a distorted mirror, the mirror that said to him, "you'll never grow up. Like Peter Pan, you'll always be a boy. Fantasy is good. It keeps you from acknowledging the realities of life. You're untouchable. Do whatever seems right to you Michael. The world will support you. After all, you're Michael Jackson. Who would ever hold you accountable for your actions? Just moonwalk your way to innocence. Trust me on this one."
And so he did. He and that cracked, distorted mirror that came to be manager, public relations director, publicist, and counselor, jetsetted around the globe in search of his soul--a soul tormented by the lack of a childhood and the cost of fame, a soul restless and wandering. A soul unattached from reality. He never found that soul. Instead, he found a remedy for the pain that resulted from his lost soul. He found it in drugs like Demerol and Oxycotin.
Anyone with a reasonably functioning brain should have been able to see that Michael Jackson was a "train wreck" waiting to happen. No one goes from being to dark brown to paper white due to a skin problem. No, it just doesn't happen like that. He looked like a pre-school child's playdough mold. He had no nose. He was painfully thin. His hair was a hot mess. Come on now, don't get mad at me. I'm not smearing his memory. I loved Mike too. But I love the truth more.
Help me to understand something. Why do we humans, when we escape the consequences of an action that we committed, continue to do wrong? When are we going to say, "okay, I escaped that one so I'm gonna straighten up and fly right?" But instead, we push our luck like the gambler who was able to win back what he spent gambling but decided in his warped mind that he's lucky enough to double or triple his winnings if he continues to play. Sad commentary indeed. So was the life of Michael Jackson.
Debbie Rowe slithers from the woodwork and announces that the two children she had with Mike wasn't his biologically. No, say it ain't so! He was NOT the father? Wow, Maury Povich missed a great opportunity with this one. Who on God's green earth really believed that those "pure" white children came from his loins? I don't care if you bleach yourself into oblivion, you can't bleach DNA or sperm. Debbie Rowe, you're stupid!
Well, I guess all that's left to say is goodbye. Bye Mike, thanks for the 50 years of music, dances, and comedy. Thanks for leaving your mark. But most of all Michael Jackson, thanks for setting the music bar high enough that current and future artists will have to develop and carry their "A" game at all times. Good Bye Michael, Good Bye Legend.
AfterThoughts Signing Off....
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