I wasn't attached to the television yesterday watching the tribute to pop icon Michael Jackson, but I did find myself humming "Thriller" when I started jogging my first lap out at the track last night. The only word I know to it is, "thriller," (duh), but I always liked the zombie-rocking music video of the song. I never bought any of MJ's albums--his high-pitched squeal never much appealled to me, but I still was sorry to learn of his passing. He was someone's son, brother, and father, and his legions of fans will miss him.
Jackson is among a long, growing list of performers whose oddball lifestyles seem to have eclipsed their talent. I could never figure out why this handsome man was compelled to re-mold his face to frightening proportions, grab his crotch, and hang out with a chimpanzee, but to each his own. We all have our little quirks. He was never found guilty of the child molestation charges that plagued his later years, but let's face it: anyone in his or her right mind who invites little boys to private sleepovers is just begging for public criticism and suspicion. Why risk it?
Some people seem hell-bent on self-sabotage, and Michael Jackson likely ran in that crowd. I don't pretend to understand why people who appear to "have it all" end up in tragic circumstances, but it happens over and over and over again. MJ is just one more sad example of a brilliant life and career cut short--a victim of success and excess. Sometimes becoming a thriller doesn't come cheaply and there is a price to pay.
2 comments:
So true. A genius who never knew their real talent.
He paid off two of the kids hugely so they wouldn't testify. That is why he was not convicted. Pity he didn't stick to the chimps.
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