The "King" Is Dead.

2009-06-25

Yeah, so....

It's all over the news. It's all over Facebook. "OMG did u hear?"

And then there are the people waxing outraged that it's getting the face time that it is. There are more important things going on in the world. And there are. Of course there are. But you'll forgive me if I squeeze my two cents in before going back to worrying about Iran, Iraq, and the Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Let's try, for a second, to forget about Jesus Juice, the disintegrating face, and the fact that he had a kid named "Blanket."

This was all anyone could talk about the morning of May 17, 1983 at Central Junior High. And then "Thriller," my God. I had just turned 13. I won't front: I LOVED Michael Jackson. Let he who is without an embarrassing adolescent crush cast the first soulless, pretentious stone.

This was the one thing my sister and I could agree on back then. We'd hop on our bikes and head over to Erin's house. Erin's mom was never home, and Erin had a copy of "Thriller." We played it over and over and OVER. This was spring awakening. This was eighth grade. This was launching tampons into Erin's half-filled bathtub and screaming in horror. "I want to love you (PYT), Pretty Young Thing."

Michael Jackson would never again recapture the magic of that year, and neither would I, and not for lack of trying.

There was such insanity and tragedy later on. It's a horrible, HORRIBLE story. That's all I'm going to say.

lisamcc at 8:49 p.m.

previous | next