UPDATE: Aaaand, I’m over it. A lil’ refresher course on the details of the allegations and the $20 million dollar hush-money check, and right on back to being the creepy fucking ghoul of a pedophile he was on June 24th.
There’s no possible way you can be hearing this for the first time here, but Michael Jackson is dead at 50 today, due to suspected cardiac arrest. The King of Pop, (not so) arguably the greatest solo artist of all time, a living legend of an entertainer and musical genius, is gone.
I didn’t think it possible to see the allegations of child molestation pushed into the back of my mind so easily to make room for a huge sense of loss and sadness. I’m sure it’s a much easier task to not lose any sleep over this loss for the families of the alleged victims. And let’s be honest, the dude was absolutely batshit in his last 15 years, and it’s hard to deny that he did some despicable things to little boys, but man I am bummed out. And I was just a little shit at the height of his career. Aren’t pedophiles supposed to be the most reviled form of scum in the eyes of the public and even other criminals?
But how many good times have we all experienced with Jackson’s music as the damn soundtrack? Countless, I’m certain. How often has he moved us, physically and emotionally, with his songwriting, emotionally charges vocals, and unprecedented dancing talents? Very often, I’m positive. He changed pop culture–music, video, live entertainment–in a way that no one had before him. His catalog of smash hits is longer than I care list, but I’ll certainly be spending some time with them the next few days.
Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go choke the hell up over “She’s Out Of My Life”, then dance myself back into a man with “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” and plenty of Jesus Juice.