Le roi est mort.
Ok, so we're probably all tired of talking about it. This post comes rather late, considering it's been over two weeks since his death, and almost a week after the memorial. But in keeping with my obsession of all things pop culture, it wouldn't be right to not address this here. So you're allowed to roll your eyes and sigh and say, "enough already," but I'm going to say what I need to say so I can move on.
Where was I when I heard the news?
I was sitting on the couch in the family room with my dad, clutching my cell phone, anxiously waiting for more news. 45 minutes before that moment, I had returned a phone call from my sister. She asked me to check the news to find out if Michael Jackson was really dead. My reaction was, of course, that it was a rumor run rampant and out of control. He wasn't dead. Heart attack maybe, but dead, no. My Google search confirmed my instincts. TMZ was wrong and I was right. He had suffered cardiac arrest, but he was in the hospital. He was going to be ok.
The next call was to my boyfriend. Had he heard the news? He had. But it was going to be ok.
Next stop, Facebook. Some people were blindly following TMZ, perpetuating the death rumor. I, instead, held on to hope. My status message: God, I don't normally ask for favors, but if you could help MJ pull through, I'd appreciate it. We don't need to lose any more people, stars or otherwise, this week. Thanks.
Downstairs to the family room. The report on the news was that Michael was in a deep coma. Not good. But not dead. Text to my sister: NBC 4 just reported that MJ is in a coma. Keep hope alive. Only TMZ is saying he's gone.
Two minutes later, the special report music broke into a commercial break. The instant I heard it and saw the screen, I felt my stomach drop. I didn't need Brian Williams to tell me what I knew at that very moment:
Michael Jackson was gone.
There are so many people out there who wonder why there has been such an outpouring of grief for Michael. He was "just an entertainer," they say. "He was a child molester," they say. "He bleached his skin," they say. "He spent his money on ridiculous things," they say.
So they say. And those that say all those things neglect to recognize the impact that Michael had on the world.
Go to any place in the world that has some link, any link at all to the modern world, and they know who Michael Jackson was. You could get 100 people in a room who all speak different languages, throw on "Billie Jean," and everyone would probably sing and dance along. Michael's music knew no boundaries.
The world paused when he left it. The whole freaking world.
There may never be another artist/entertainer/innovator/philathropist like Michael Jackson. Correction: There will never be another artist/entertainer/innovator/philanthropist like Michael Jackson.
I am once again at a loss for words.
At one point, I wanted to believe that Michael had not left us. I joked that he was on his way to the secret underground lair to meet up with Elvis and Tupac. They would stage a comeback tour that would literally make our heads explode from trying to comprehend it all.
But this is not so.
This post was supposed to be longer, more eloquent, more befitting of the man, myth, and legend that was simply the greatest entertainer to grace this planet. But the front page of a French newspaper summed it up best:
Le roi est mort.
(The king is dead.)
Michael, may your spirit find the peace you deserve. No matter what they said and will continue to say, we love you. We will always love you.
Where was I when I heard the news?
I was sitting on the couch in the family room with my dad, clutching my cell phone, anxiously waiting for more news. 45 minutes before that moment, I had returned a phone call from my sister. She asked me to check the news to find out if Michael Jackson was really dead. My reaction was, of course, that it was a rumor run rampant and out of control. He wasn't dead. Heart attack maybe, but dead, no. My Google search confirmed my instincts. TMZ was wrong and I was right. He had suffered cardiac arrest, but he was in the hospital. He was going to be ok.
The next call was to my boyfriend. Had he heard the news? He had. But it was going to be ok.
Next stop, Facebook. Some people were blindly following TMZ, perpetuating the death rumor. I, instead, held on to hope. My status message: God, I don't normally ask for favors, but if you could help MJ pull through, I'd appreciate it. We don't need to lose any more people, stars or otherwise, this week. Thanks.
Downstairs to the family room. The report on the news was that Michael was in a deep coma. Not good. But not dead. Text to my sister: NBC 4 just reported that MJ is in a coma. Keep hope alive. Only TMZ is saying he's gone.
Two minutes later, the special report music broke into a commercial break. The instant I heard it and saw the screen, I felt my stomach drop. I didn't need Brian Williams to tell me what I knew at that very moment:
Michael Jackson was gone.
There are so many people out there who wonder why there has been such an outpouring of grief for Michael. He was "just an entertainer," they say. "He was a child molester," they say. "He bleached his skin," they say. "He spent his money on ridiculous things," they say.
So they say. And those that say all those things neglect to recognize the impact that Michael had on the world.
Go to any place in the world that has some link, any link at all to the modern world, and they know who Michael Jackson was. You could get 100 people in a room who all speak different languages, throw on "Billie Jean," and everyone would probably sing and dance along. Michael's music knew no boundaries.
The world paused when he left it. The whole freaking world.
There may never be another artist/entertainer/innovator/philathropist like Michael Jackson. Correction: There will never be another artist/entertainer/innovator/philanthropist like Michael Jackson.
I am once again at a loss for words.
At one point, I wanted to believe that Michael had not left us. I joked that he was on his way to the secret underground lair to meet up with Elvis and Tupac. They would stage a comeback tour that would literally make our heads explode from trying to comprehend it all.
But this is not so.
This post was supposed to be longer, more eloquent, more befitting of the man, myth, and legend that was simply the greatest entertainer to grace this planet. But the front page of a French newspaper summed it up best:
Le roi est mort.
(The king is dead.)
Michael, may your spirit find the peace you deserve. No matter what they said and will continue to say, we love you. We will always love you.
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