Thursday, June 25, 2009

An eulogy (of sorts) for the King of Pop

I've never been a fan of you, Mr. Michael Jackson. I don't mean that as in "I've never liked you or your work", but literally: I've just never been devoted to you like so many around the world have throughout your illustrious career. I barely know the first thing about you, or your songs, or your career.

I know you wouldn't really care about me or what I thought (and especially now), but nonetheless: I've never believed, for a second, any of those disgusting allegations launched against you. Even though so many around me, in my own friends and family, are ready to believe the worst of you just because it's printed in the news and yelled from the circus that is the media, I'm still standing up for you (metaphorically). I've certainly had my doubts for a few years – perhaps the allegations were true, perhaps it really was that bad – but over time my distrust and contempt for people and the regular media have grown, and although usually that would probably not be something to cheer about, it's certainly helped me see with clearer eyes than ever before. And that's why I can safely say: I believe you, and believed in you.

It truly is horrible what the media, led by a few filthy money-grubbing attention-crazed assholes, has done to you, your image, and your career. Once the King of Pop for crissakes, you've been reduced to nothing more than a washed-up artist-turned-pedophile in the public eye. I fail to imagine any harsher, any more dishonorable note to end on. I sincerely wish the immoral parasites who've gotten rich off your back suffer, psychologically, with their conscience on fire after what they've put you through. It's just so fucking horrible.

You were the greatest star on the modern music scene. Despite your fall from grace into the lion-infested pits of the media's crucible, you still managed to keep your head high, however you could. You finally planned a comeback that would, with a bit of hope, provide you with the rebound you so sorely needed and deserved. I cannot imagine what amount of stress and personal duress you must have been under. No-one can. I can only presume it will have played some role in your tragic, premature demise. Leaving us at the very threshold of your potential "comeback" – can there be a crueler sort of irony?

Some will remember you as a washed-up artist-turned-pedophile. Some will remember you as a star who's simply been shot down by the forces of inevitability. Hell, they'll believe anything, I guess. But to me, you'll always be (until proof to the contrary) that you were the greatest Pop legend in history, one of the greatest musical artists of all time, and overall, perhaps just a bird who flew a little too close to the Sun for his own good. Like Icarus, you just wanted more, and you certainly deserved it ... Perhaps you just flew too high. Fate and the world have a knack for knocking people like that down to the ground in flames – whether rightly so, or not.

I will miss you, Michael Jackson. Farewell, and may you rest in peace.


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