MICHAEL Jackson's funeral got bigger media coverage than that granted to most statesmen, politicians, business tycoons, film actors, Nobel prizewinners and prospective saints.
Indeed, the huge publicity surrounding his death must have irritated a lot of distinguished politicians, big-time businessmen, generals, scientists and preachers. ('Oy! I contributed so much to the world and yet this pop singer is getting a bigger send-off than I will probably get! Not fair!')
And who (or what) was Michael Jackson? He was, in the words of one parent I knew many years ago, 'just a singer and dancer', something this parent hoped his son would never become. ('Let's be realistic; you can't earn a living singing. And our society doesn't give singers any respect.')
This parent was convinced his son was a sensible kid who would blossom into a money-minting brain surgeon, lawyer, engineer, architect, minister, towkay, businessman or academic, or preferably everything rolled into one. (Eventually this brilliant kid became assistant manager of a small supermarket.)
If I were that parent, I wouldn't begin comparing a career in supermarket management to Mr Jackson's career. Jackson personally earned hundreds of millions of dollars (which the parents of most brain surgeons don't get to see); his work generated billions of dollars for the American economy (which the parents of many lawyers will never even smell) and he helped to globalise his country's culture, for which most governments happily award cultural medallions (which parents of towkays and engineers never get to boast about).
If Wacko Jacko (as the media has often unfairly called him) still hasn't become a role model for most parents, it's because of the way the media has portrayed His Royal Weirdness.
Like the way he used drugs to turn his skin from black to white. But really, what's the big deal? Millions of white people use suntan lotion and indoor solar lighting to darken their skins. And millions of fair-skinned Asians use umbrellas on sunny days so they can look as fair as termites.
Then there's Jackson's plastic surgery (or should I call it drastic surgery, since he has lately been looking like a supernatural creature from his famous video Thriller). But hey, there are millions of mostly middle-aged, anxiety-ridden women acquiring sharper noses, bigger eyes, fatter lips, bigger breasts, and even longer legs, in the hope that they will look attractive to their dumb-ass husbands when what they both need perhaps is a brain transplant.
As for Jackson's alleged strange goings-on with kids, I can't really comment except to say that all the allegations were settled out of court with plenty of money (which doesn't say much for the people who brought the accusations), and anyway he wasn't prosecuted, so that's that.
But look on the bright side. Jackson is in the Guinness Records as being the entertainer who contributed most to charities, and it's estimated the good man contributed about US$500 million ($730m) worldwide. He also started the great concerts in aid of famine and hunger.
He was a Barack Obama figure of his time, someone who built a career by being unashamedly black but able to reach out to people of all races and cultures. (You just have to look at the innumerable MJ look-alikes among dancers in today's Tamil movies to see how much of a god he has become in South India.)
I am reminded of how some parents reacted to the '70s rock band Queen when it first emerged with flamboyant singer Freddie Mercury and wild guitarist Brian May.
May, with his rocker's clothes and huge mop of hair, wouldn't have seemed a likely role model for your average maths and physics nerd, but few people then were aware he had interrupted his uni studies in astrophysics to explore rock music. He went back to London's Imperial College after 30 years and after earning millions as a rock star and completed a doctorate thesis on radial velocities in the zodiacal dust cloud. Now, he's a chancellor in a university in Liverpool.
Radial velocities? Zodiacal dust clouds? Don't ask me; I'm just a columnist. Ask the supermarket assistant manager.
Indeed, the huge publicity surrounding his death must have irritated a lot of distinguished politicians, big-time businessmen, generals, scientists and preachers. ('Oy! I contributed so much to the world and yet this pop singer is getting a bigger send-off than I will probably get! Not fair!')
And who (or what) was Michael Jackson? He was, in the words of one parent I knew many years ago, 'just a singer and dancer', something this parent hoped his son would never become. ('Let's be realistic; you can't earn a living singing. And our society doesn't give singers any respect.')
This parent was convinced his son was a sensible kid who would blossom into a money-minting brain surgeon, lawyer, engineer, architect, minister, towkay, businessman or academic, or preferably everything rolled into one. (Eventually this brilliant kid became assistant manager of a small supermarket.)
If I were that parent, I wouldn't begin comparing a career in supermarket management to Mr Jackson's career. Jackson personally earned hundreds of millions of dollars (which the parents of most brain surgeons don't get to see); his work generated billions of dollars for the American economy (which the parents of many lawyers will never even smell) and he helped to globalise his country's culture, for which most governments happily award cultural medallions (which parents of towkays and engineers never get to boast about).
If Wacko Jacko (as the media has often unfairly called him) still hasn't become a role model for most parents, it's because of the way the media has portrayed His Royal Weirdness.
Like the way he used drugs to turn his skin from black to white. But really, what's the big deal? Millions of white people use suntan lotion and indoor solar lighting to darken their skins. And millions of fair-skinned Asians use umbrellas on sunny days so they can look as fair as termites.
Then there's Jackson's plastic surgery (or should I call it drastic surgery, since he has lately been looking like a supernatural creature from his famous video Thriller). But hey, there are millions of mostly middle-aged, anxiety-ridden women acquiring sharper noses, bigger eyes, fatter lips, bigger breasts, and even longer legs, in the hope that they will look attractive to their dumb-ass husbands when what they both need perhaps is a brain transplant.
As for Jackson's alleged strange goings-on with kids, I can't really comment except to say that all the allegations were settled out of court with plenty of money (which doesn't say much for the people who brought the accusations), and anyway he wasn't prosecuted, so that's that.
But look on the bright side. Jackson is in the Guinness Records as being the entertainer who contributed most to charities, and it's estimated the good man contributed about US$500 million ($730m) worldwide. He also started the great concerts in aid of famine and hunger.
He was a Barack Obama figure of his time, someone who built a career by being unashamedly black but able to reach out to people of all races and cultures. (You just have to look at the innumerable MJ look-alikes among dancers in today's Tamil movies to see how much of a god he has become in South India.)
I am reminded of how some parents reacted to the '70s rock band Queen when it first emerged with flamboyant singer Freddie Mercury and wild guitarist Brian May.
May, with his rocker's clothes and huge mop of hair, wouldn't have seemed a likely role model for your average maths and physics nerd, but few people then were aware he had interrupted his uni studies in astrophysics to explore rock music. He went back to London's Imperial College after 30 years and after earning millions as a rock star and completed a doctorate thesis on radial velocities in the zodiacal dust cloud. Now, he's a chancellor in a university in Liverpool.
Radial velocities? Zodiacal dust clouds? Don't ask me; I'm just a columnist. Ask the supermarket assistant manager.
posted by Gabriel at 1:24 pm
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