soooooo....I was going to refrain from contributing to the over saturation of MJ commentary today, but the last 20 minutes has changed everything and I must purge. its a process...
After today it'll all be over, so relax and embrace.
Memorial: like the millions of fans across the globe (even in death he's setting precedents and making history), I tuned into the live CNN stream of the memorial this morning; save an excruciatingly long half-hour where i was dragged away for this dumb work meeting (eye roll), I was able to catch most of it. Mid-way through, my roommate iquoted to me Liz Taylor, stressing that she wasn't going to be part of this 'creepy dog and pony show' which forced me to take a step back and reevaluate my obsession with this whole frenzy. Apparently Liz declined an appearance at the memorial because she argued Micheal wouldn't have wanted this spectacle (and because she was pretty sure she's incapable of forming coherent words and thoughts - funny Liz, but probably a good call). And thus springs a steady stream of controversial MJ conversation points surrounding the life and death of one Michael Joseph Jackson.
Over the past week, I have (as I'm sure anyone with a pulse has) found myself in countless discussions with friends, family and coworkers on this man.
who was he: humanitarian? child molester? freak? pop star? celebrity? tragedy? father? an infantile peter pan? bad man? good man? misunderstood man?
what is this memorial, really: media spectacle? celebration of life? waste of tax dollars? what he would have wanted? his worst nightmare? joke? proper homage?
All these things, we can argue forever. I mean who killed Kennedy? Did we really land on the moon, like really? Such is the nature of life, some mysteries will never be solved and some truths will never been found. But, these things my humbled heart believes, regardless of the maybes, are undeniable: celebrate the music, not the man. he was an icon, a legend, a historical figure, a pioneer, a genius. In what are sure to be the famous words of Berry Gordy, he was “simply the greatest entertainer that ever lived.”**
and his memorial, whether sick or exploitative, was fitting for his life and just damn poetic really. And honestly, who's heart didn't melt when his elusive
11-year old daughter, Paris, proudly spoke "Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father you can ever imagine. And I just want to say I love him so much," and then wept into Aunt Janet's arms. Because at the heart of it all, a little girl lost the father that she loved and who can't sympathize with that?And now my shameful downfall from compassionate human being into vile propagator of media circustry....
After the hub bub of the memorial wound down and lunchtime had come and gone, I was taking a plate back to the kitchen when the blanket of media coverage announced that the Jackson family motorcade was pulling into the Beverly Hills Wilshire Hotel. Being located across the street from my building, I immediately monkey pounced up onto a window ledge where I saw the mania swelling below. Elevator to lobby. door close, door close, door close. On the street I gawked like the paps but my guilt was repressed by the thought that in my own small and pathetic way, this was my moment in rock and roll history.
My only hope is that one day my children find the story as special as I have with my own mother's tale of meeting Elvis in the back stairwell of a hotel. Oh...and that I'm not on TMZ tonight on tip toe in my fat shirt taking blackberry photos.
**if you don't agree, please explain to me how that on the 4th of July, a group of 5 girls can break out into Beat It! choreography 4 times over at 24 hour period and each time inspiring entire groups of people to join in (and even a pair of grown men to reenact one infamous knife fight)? it's magic. you can't deny.
it was pretty much like this:
I think you could break out into the NSYNC Bye
ReplyDeleteBye Bye dance on 4OJ and have the same effect.
-EChance