Ok–you know you’re getting older when your contemporaries start dying suddenly. Michael Jackson and I were born only 5 months apart in 1958.
Of course, I am healthy, don’t take “prescription drugs”, drink “Jesus Juice”, molest children and haven’t had any “work” done. And I’m pretty much the same color I was when I born (maybe a little darker, due to wear and tear).
I appreciate his music, talent and the ability to inspire using those tools, but the dude was a freak on so many levels.
That being said, we all have to overcome and outgrow the things that hold us back. Some of us do it better than others, obviously.
If I hear one more time how he was never allowed to be a child, I’m gonna barf. He spent hundreds of millions of dollars and 30 years of his life trying to regain something that should at best, have lasted 10 or 12 years. Get over it already. Move on.
Ultimately, his bizarre behavior was enabled by a coterie of hangers-on, moray eel-like family members and a fawning public that at one time actually revered him as “The Archangel Michael” — as if god had sent another son because that whole Jesus thing wasn’t working out.
It’s sad when someone seemingly dies “before their time”, but ultimately, everyone dies in “their” time. There are no exceptions.
The rules of physics apply and are perhaps some of the few constants we can rely on. Heaven knows, even Michael Jackson should have understood that.