So I'm sitting in a meeting today when one of my colleagues asks me if I've been following the Michael Jackson memorial online. At first I think he's joking. Surely people in my organization have more important things to worry about; like the origin of tube socks maybe. Before I can project a snarky comment from my diaphragm, an entire conversation about Michael Jackson breaks out. Over half of the people in the room had been watching coverage online. Not only were they watching, they genuinely seemed upset. My first instinct was to ask them all what the hell was wrong with them. My second instinct was to bludgeon them with a rolled up risk management plan. My third instinct was to report them all to their bosses for wasting time, but I was afraid I'd disturb their bosses who were probably also tuned in to circus. I cycled through my instincts until I got to number 43 and just kept my mouth shut. Until now.
At the risk of seeming callas, here it goes. Who gives a crap about Michael Jackson and why do we care if he's dead? Really. For the past fifteen years, the man has been the butt of more jokes than Cleveland. The man was an accused pedophile, with a pet chimp, a merry-go-round on his front lawn and the bones of the Elephant Man in a display case next to autographed McCauley Caulkin photo. He's had more plastic surgery than Shirley McLain has had lives and racked up more debt than Congress. And now he is being portrayed as this beautiful person who brought us all so much. Give me a break. He brought us a 15 minute video of him dancing around dressed as a zombie. Ironically, after all of the skin lightening, surgery and makeup he was the spitting image of the very zombie he portrayed. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot- he brought us the moonwalk. Super. Fantastic. Mother Theresa didn't get the sort of coverage and accolades that this Diana Ross look-alike is getting.
Okay, so I get that he was a musical pioneer of sorts. I understand his relevance to pop music. I get that he had a difficult childhood growing up with the pressure of show business, fame, yada yada. He had issues that weren't entirely his fault, but he also had issues that were his to own. The surgery never bothered me, but the fact that his appearance never bothered him was more disturbing.
But lets put this into perspective here. Did he use his fame and fortune to promote a good cause? Was he a role model? Was he painting a large swath of good across the planet with his power and influence? No. He was coaxing young children to his ranch. He was spending money on the most ridiculous of luxuries. Going on fully-leveraged shopping sprees. Dangling his children from hotel balconies, covering their faces with blankets to "protect them". Yet dragging them on camera and through public while the world filmed his freakish behavior. I'm not questioning his love for his children or his daughter's conviction that he was good to her. Outside of how the media has portrayed him, I know nothing of his parenting skills. But I'm sure he had a wonderful relationship with his kids and I really do feel badly for them.
But enough of the canonization of the man. He was who he was. An extremely talented singer and dancer with moderate to severe social disorders. He made music and behaved strangely. And he passed on the eve of his attempt to clear his debt, and partially restore his name. So the unfortunate timing has elevated this to "tragedy" status.
Whatever. Lets just move on, leave his poor children alone and find someone else with issues to obsess about.
At the risk of seeming callas, here it goes. Who gives a crap about Michael Jackson and why do we care if he's dead? Really. For the past fifteen years, the man has been the butt of more jokes than Cleveland. The man was an accused pedophile, with a pet chimp, a merry-go-round on his front lawn and the bones of the Elephant Man in a display case next to autographed McCauley Caulkin photo. He's had more plastic surgery than Shirley McLain has had lives and racked up more debt than Congress. And now he is being portrayed as this beautiful person who brought us all so much. Give me a break. He brought us a 15 minute video of him dancing around dressed as a zombie. Ironically, after all of the skin lightening, surgery and makeup he was the spitting image of the very zombie he portrayed. Oh, yeah. I almost forgot- he brought us the moonwalk. Super. Fantastic. Mother Theresa didn't get the sort of coverage and accolades that this Diana Ross look-alike is getting.
Okay, so I get that he was a musical pioneer of sorts. I understand his relevance to pop music. I get that he had a difficult childhood growing up with the pressure of show business, fame, yada yada. He had issues that weren't entirely his fault, but he also had issues that were his to own. The surgery never bothered me, but the fact that his appearance never bothered him was more disturbing.
But lets put this into perspective here. Did he use his fame and fortune to promote a good cause? Was he a role model? Was he painting a large swath of good across the planet with his power and influence? No. He was coaxing young children to his ranch. He was spending money on the most ridiculous of luxuries. Going on fully-leveraged shopping sprees. Dangling his children from hotel balconies, covering their faces with blankets to "protect them". Yet dragging them on camera and through public while the world filmed his freakish behavior. I'm not questioning his love for his children or his daughter's conviction that he was good to her. Outside of how the media has portrayed him, I know nothing of his parenting skills. But I'm sure he had a wonderful relationship with his kids and I really do feel badly for them.
But enough of the canonization of the man. He was who he was. An extremely talented singer and dancer with moderate to severe social disorders. He made music and behaved strangely. And he passed on the eve of his attempt to clear his debt, and partially restore his name. So the unfortunate timing has elevated this to "tragedy" status.
Whatever. Lets just move on, leave his poor children alone and find someone else with issues to obsess about.
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