I contain multitudes. That's why I'm on antibiotics.
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Michael Jackson = Princess Guy
Do I have to sit through a year of nonstop coverage, sobbings, and vulture-like preying on the corpse? Apparently, I do.
I don't even care about the supposed kiddie fondling -- it's just the enforced mourning, and especially the appalling necrophilic vulturing of the press.
My two cents, unrelated to the rest, is that, hey, he's not that great, anyway: four good songs on _OTW_, _Billie Jean_, one or two other catchy ones. I never liked him much as a preteen, and I won't pretend I do now to join in The Big Weep.
But what one thinks of his music/art isn't really relevant. Shit, when Ingmar Bergman died, I didn't have a public sobfest to show that I was part of the "in crowd," using my loud liking of him to show my conformity. I mean, why not sell pieces of his dead body and home for shrines around the world to worship -- or better yet: a Michael Jackson cookie we can all eat to share of His goodness?
I mean, who in their right mind would launch such a death cult...uh...hmmm.