Thursday, June 25, 2009

Only Michael Jackson Could Make Red Leather, Sequined Gloves and Zombies Look Cohesive

As an artist, I can appreciate the level of commitment Michael Jackson had towards his craft. Like most ridiculously creative famous artists, he had his hangups. Hell, we all have our little "things". I remain skeptical that MJ was a child molester. Unusual, yes. Creepy, sorta, but no more so than a relative you don't see often enough for them to recognize your personal boundaries (i.e. cheek pinching, excessive hugging, etc.) I think the man was so ostresized by his iconic status that his social skills became nill. Hanging out with kids was easier, no pressure (or at least I can see why he would have thought that). Generally kids don't scheme, unless conditioned to do so. I just had to get on my soap box there for a minute.
I'm not a fanatic fan and have no plans to find arrangements to be off of work just to go and place flowers on his star in Hollywood nor will I race to touch the vehicle that will carry his body to it's final resting place. I will not get a MJ tattoo. You get it, I'm just another face among millions that is taking the time to remember Michael Jackson the musician. I'm remeniscing of my childhood and all the songs of his that have become intertwined with those memories.
"Thriller" is one of the best songs/videos in the history of pop culture.
"Billy Jean" can make just about anyone's hips gyrate.
Here's to a life well spent, songs well written and one helluva signature dance move.
Rest in piece Michael, sequined gloves will never quite be the same.
*best read when listening to Michael Jackson's "Heaven Can Wait"


  1. Very well written, Crit... and it's true, I wasn't a big MJ fan either, but by crackey, Thriller was the shit when I was 10 years old...that was the perfect age to be when Thriller came out...he was larger than life...

  2. Amen, brother. I worked for hours after I first saw the Thriller video just to get my "zombie walk" down. And I beeegggged for those yellow contacts (in vain).


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