Monday, June 29, 2009

Michael and stuff: Along with everyone else, I was feeling bad about the death of Michael Jackson until black celebrities like P-Diddy and Jamie Foxx had to go all tribal and ruin it. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you did us a favor and loaned him to us beat-needy white folks, and we are inadequately grateful as shown by the not-perfectly-worshipful media coverage.

Folks want to get nasty, let's talk straight. Michael Jackson was a blessing in my life for one decade and a curse for three. Farrah and Michael made me remember fondly my 1970s childhood. By the time of Thriller, I was old enough to be beyond the pop stuff and he was beginning to seem creepy to me. Well, that feeling escalated until the present day. Right, Elvis was pretty pathetic at the end, but he never gave me the creeps. Everything about Jackson except his talent became repulsive. I'm sad he went prematurely, but he was too disturbed to be a hero.

I don't know why I had the thought now, but I have this foreboding that the country's future is tribalism all the way around, and the thought is depressing. Perhaps I need to prepare myself for this in steps. Since I've got a wee bit of Irish ancestry, maybe I could join the Irish American Business Fraternity and then when I was used to that, I could work on becoming a full-blown white person.


  1. I blogged about ethnocentrism and how it relates to whites at my blog (there's a link to you):

  2. Yes, it is unclear to me, as it is to so many other white Americans, how I ever would have managed in this world without Jackson's particular magic . . . .

    These people live in echo chamber of delusional self-regard.

    Michael Jackson suffered from an extreme case of the most common celebrity malady; he became radically detached from reality decades ago (assuming he was ever really conversant with it). As this disconnection grew more acute, he became increasingly a sad, pathetic, and disturbed (as well as disturbing) figure. I certainly can feel sorry for Michael Jackson, but at the end of the day he was a drug-addled pop-star with a sad history behind him, and nothing much left in the way of a future.

    Jackson was first exploited and abused by his father, and then by a succession of hangers-on. He ultimately became a sideshow freak whose sexual predilictions (if any) aroused more curiosity and interest than any of his musical accomplishments. Ultimately, he skidded out of this world in a sad terminal ride, which is actually how most of us make our departure, just minus the paparazzi and the round-the-clock cable coverage.

    His music will continue to speak to the emotionally stunted for decades to come, or just to those who crave a catchy tune you never have any particular reason to listen to. He was a excellent dancer whose life provided an abundace of tabloid fodder, and who managed to entertain successive generations of 12 year olds. That's really about it.

  3. Anonymous3:36 PM

    I have to admit--I'd love, just love, for someone to pop Jamie Fox in the kisser. What an ass.

    I am tired of the war of words--I'd like a return to the days of old: when someone said something that was an insult to others, he got it in the face.

    Notice old Jamie didn't care about political correctness. I yearn for men to be men again. It'd be nice to have some real journalists, too. It would stop some of this crap.

    Of course, what would really be nice is if people boycotted any JF movie.


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