Michael Jackson

I've been pretty silent on the whole Michael Jackson mess this week. Perhaps because I wasn't a huge fan of his. But I have to say whenever I hear Thriller at a club or a party or even just on the radio I start to get excited. I also liked the song "Man in the Mirror." And it seemed that Mr Jackson really didn't like his own man in the mirror--or he at least longed to like him and found it nearly impossible to do so.

Andrew Sullivan over at the Daily Dish said it better than I ever could:

I loved his music. His young voice was almost a miracle, his poise in retrospect eery, his joy, tempered by pain, often unbearably uplifting. He made the greatest music video of all time; and he made some of the greatest records of all time. He was everything our culture worships; and yet he was obviously desperately unhappy, tortured, afraid and alone.
I grieve for him; but I also grieve for the culture that created and destroyed him. That culture is ours' and it is a lethal and brutal one: with fame and celebrity as its core values, with money as its sole motive, it chewed this child up and spat him out.
I hope he has the peace now he never had in his life. And I pray that such genius will not be so abused again.

Amen. Moonwalk in peace, Michael.