This week’s header image on le craic
By
Was sad to hear the news of Michael Jackson’s death this week. I had a Twitter client running on Thursday and deliberately logged out when I started to see the news filter through. Not interested in participating in vulture like behaviour on the communication channel “du jour”. Makes me sick actually. And yet, here I am, a couple of days later adding more bits and bytes of data to Michael Jackson’s electronic cloud in the sky.
Back in August last year I posted a photo of how Michael Jackson might look at 50. It was originally published in the Daily Mail. I wrote a little about the obsession with fame and how I felt sorry for MJ. Never thought I’d be blogging about his death 10 months later.
For some reason, when I heard that the 9/11 call had been released I expected there to be some mention of his name, but there’s not. Instead the caller said:
“We have a gentleman here that needs help and he’s not breathing yet. He’s not breathing and we’re trying to pump him but he’s not. He’s not.
Operator: OK, how old is he?
Caller: He’s 50 years old, sir.
Operator: 50? OK, he’s not breathing? Not conscious.
Caller: No, he’s not breathing. He’s not conscious sir.”
and then a short time later:
Operator: Oh, OK, we’re on our way there. If your guy is doing CPR and you’re instructed by a doctor, he’s a higher authority than me. And he’s there on scene. Did anybody witness what happened?
Caller: No, just the doctor, sir. The doctor has been the only one there.
The man adored by millions for his music, died in a rented mansion surrounded by hired help. His final heartbeat witnessed by a doctor, possibly administering a cocktail of drugs to ease the mental and physical demons that plagued his life.
He has left a legacy of music to the world that will live on. Hopefully he has gone to a better place where his real life can actually begin.
Rest in peace.
Image owned by Chibart (CC license)
1 Comments
June 29th, 2009 at 11:53 am
SAD? I was livid: How dare he die!
I didn’t happen upon Michael Jackson till a few years ago (yes, really – it appears I had other things on my mind in his heyday eighties) but, by god, when I finally watched CD “Michael Jackson Number Ones”, ca 2003, I fell in love with the guy.
His dancing, the choreography, the stories his videos tell in such a minimalistic way – absolutely fantastic. But, of course, and so very sad for him, he was a BOY inside what was a very attractive man’s face and body (so unfortunate that, eventually, he shaved off his nose completely).
Why a boy? Visually he was sex on legs: Look at, say, the testosterone fuelled “Beat It” or “Bad” but watch the terror in his face right at the end of “Dirty Diana” when he climbs into the car of, yes, Diana. Whatever promise he made on stage it most certainly won’t have been fulfilled that night.
Michael Jackson, a lost and abandoned soul, touched my heart. I wish I could have made him better. It sickens me to now have his father and his siblings snivel and drivel in front of cameras. Where was that disfunctional lot when it really mattered?
On a high note: How many grown men can get away with wearing white socks outside the tennis court – other than Michael Jackson?
U