I don’t know where I am going to go with this exactly. I just feel like ranting for a moment or two.
Partly, my problem is Michael Jackson. Having lost a child, Michael’s death breaks my heart for his family. I know that loss, that pain, that empty place that never gets filled again. I know all ways that it comes back, in the little things, the holidays, in the faces of other family members, in our memories and little jokes and in our dreams. I know every detail of what could have been, but never will be.
I look at the news on TV, I read the articles, but I see nothing from them, not even a hint of grief. And this could be in part because they are grieving in private. It could also be because the glorious media does not want us to see it that way. After all, they’ve honed that talent of getting us to listen and hear only what they deem important, or better said, what they deem the truth.
I watched with great anticipation the media coverage of his alleged child molestation charges both times. Could it be true??? The media was right there waiting for him to be charged and found guilty, every moment they could grab they took advantage, every detail. Criminals should be prosecuted. Children should be protected, the public warned. However, none of this took place.
Now, he has died, somewhat mysteriously, or at least that is what we are all being fed. One moment he was in bad health, the next it was good health, it was his heart, it wasn’t his heart. It was drugs, but then we don’t know that for sure either. One more detail means one more story. No matter, dead is still dead.
Forget the doubts, the allegations! He is a hero again- our hero, our “son”, the brightest and most talented of all time. Some claim he is moon dancing on the streets of gold, someone else called him the prince of peace. I’ve heard people say he was a giving, caring person. Was he? Maybe so, in part. But maybe the goodness in him was buried so far down it couldn’t find its way out. Everyone with a story is on camera giving it. Everyone wants a chance to be known as a pal of the late, great Michael Jackson.
Farrah Fawcett died that very same day. Her funeral has taken place. She was mourned and buried, someone said she was mourned like normal people morn their lost. Not so with the death of Michael. Now we have another week of this charade, the mourners, the worshippers, the Michael story tellers and the big upcoming public funeral. They will sell seats, maybe popcorn and cotton candy to bring in a few more bucks. If you can’t get in, you can watch it broadcast from big screen TVs. Or maybe from your own, something maybe HBO could pick up. Or we can package it and sell it later on, market it for Christmas on DVD – what a great gift it would make.
Michael did not become famous on his own. Had the public not worshipped him, his music, his moves, his lifestyle he would not have been famous. He would not have been given the opportunity to inflict his disgust on so many for so long in so many different ways. And maybe there never would have been the claims from those boys and thier families. The public only needed to stand up and say that it was wrong, gone too far, too explicit, not acceptable. Isn’t that the stance taken with Elvis and his girating moves? Yes, and with good reason.
We don’t do that anymore. We have freedom of speech, freedom of expression of our creativity. It’s music, after all! We have “choice”, and if you don’t like it, don’t listen, turn it off, but let others alone. Its our right, this is America, home of the free. Criminals are not prosecuted, children are not protected, the public is not warned. We have lost our dignity as a country. We have no shame. We share in the sins of others.
I think the only thing left to do is to stuff his body and parade him around on a float. It’s summer, so why not send him around state to state as an act to the county fairs? Then the public will have ample chance to pay homage to their king of pop. And the money mongers will have thier fill of thier newest side show and will cash in big time. The media will experience more job security. No one cares about real news headlines anyway. Let’s bleed this man’s worth for every penny we can while we still can. Disgusting thoughts, aren’t they?
What is in the heart of a family who would allow any of this to continue for one more moment?
Even though I haven’t listened to his music for many years, I keep hearing some of his songs in my head – Ben, Billy Jean and the Man in the Mirror. I think of all the stories I heard of him over the years, his childhood, the abuse, the neglect and down right abandonment. What kind of a father takes his young sons to strip clubs to perform? It seems he was only alive to provide for his family, those who should have been providing for him, supporting him, loving him. I wonder the horror that he endured as a child and as a man. The pain and degredation that never healed, never left him. I wonder about his dreams and the thoughts that went through his mind over the years. I wonder what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror, or more importantly what was looking back at him.
I think of his children in the hands of those who made him who he is.
I wonder what kind of man he could have been otherwise.
The Lord says we reap what we sow. He says that the sins of the fathers are passed to thier children, He says we share in evil when we do not speak against it.
Who is to blame?