The man died.
Am I sad? Not particularly. I'm actually happy he has died.
Now before you go on and flame me to death for being a heartless bitch and so on, hear me out. I'm happy he has died, because now the man can be left in peace. The last nine years of his life were a perpetual joke. Nobody took him seriously, between the child molestation trial [there is nothing wrong with a man and a boy sleeping in the same bed...], and the baby dangling. I was watching a video clip on CNN last night from Hollywood.com where paparazzi were camped outside his house while the ambulance was there, and whilst it was backing up to leave, the camera man was right up on the back of it trying to look in the back windows.
Are you kidding me? That just disgusted me to no end.
I was born at the crest of his superstardom, and at the beginning of his descent into hasbeen-ism. I suppose had I been alive during his heyday, my perspective might be slightly different...but to me he has always been the effeminate looking [and sounding] man who looked white, but was really black, and was always referred to in the media as Wacko Jacko.
Undeniably, the man was a genius. Emphasis on
was. Then something happened.
But at any rate, the rude jokes need to stop for the time being. The man is dead, let him rest in peace.
Comments (1)
I like your take.