I heard of Michael Jackson’s passing en route to a beer league softball game.
Upon arriving at the field, I saw our first baseman bullshitting with an opposing player.
“Did you hear about Jackson?” my teammate said.
“Yeah, great news,” the opposing player said. “One more child molester is dead.”
Despite MJ’s dicey pedo-past, it just didn’t feel “right” to hear someone react in such a manner. But it was far from shocking. After being accused of sexual abuse in 1993, Mike became a target for hatred.
There were countless other underlying issues that haunted his life, ranging from being abused as a child to drug use and anorexia. As years passed, the flux of vices seemed to multiply and weight heavily on Mike. On June 25, 2009, it all came crashing down.
But throughout the entire downward spiral, there remained one constant: an ability to create the purest pop music in history.
And while some will use Mike’s untimely death as an excuse to piss all over his ashes, I’ll just turn up the music and drown it out.
I suggest you do the same.
