I hadn’t seen anything on here about Michael Jackson’s death. So, I thought I’d add my two cents from Misery…
Thriller was the first album I experienced as an album. What I mean is that besides wearing it out on the turntable, I read the liner notes from cover to cover, sought out any reviews or insights into the album’s back story, and studied the lyric sheet to the point of obsession. I credit much of my love of the album to Michael Jackson.
But that’s where it ends.
I outgrew Michael Jackson. As transcendent a performer as he was, I could not continue to follow the silly cartoon circus that was Michael Jackson’s life. Of course, I had no idea of the turn his life and career would actually take.
I’m not even going to get into the weird here. We all know about the plastic surgery, the ridiculous spending sprees, and the odd names he gave his children. Michael Jackson did enough over his fifty years to make Latoya look sane. Now that’s starting something.
What I can’t get over is how everyone has conveniently ignored his pedophilia. Sure, Jackson was never convicted of a crime, but charges and lawsuits were brought against him several times. He bought off some of the accusers. There’s a lot of evidence that suggests he sexually abused young boys. He was just rich enough to get away with it.
I still think it’s OK to love his music or reminisce about our days in grade school, moonwalking in our living rooms. However, this admiration should be tempered with the fact that the man was a pedophile. One does not go without the other.