In the midst of preparations for his upcoming worldwide comeback tour, Michael Jackson has died at the age of 50. His death has rocked the world. We have been watching and surfing all of the televised news and music channels since word of his cardiac arrest hit the wires early this evening and I can tell you that not one media outlet has reported any other news since. It is midnight EDT.
I am stunned and there is nothing I can say that has not been said more eloquently and more gracefully. Farrah Fawcett, former Charlie's Angel, 1970s fashion icon and former real life wife of the Six Million Dollar Man, died today as well but celebrity has its ranks and her death was eclipsed by the death of the King of Pop. Michael Jackson is a legend; an extraordinarily talented entertainer and trailblazer whose music is part of the soundtrack of my youth and more recently, gleefully revered by my children.
His performances and videos still thrill us until this day. So, it makes sense that he was a bizarre human. After all, if a human is endowed with superhuman qualities in one area, another area must, by default, be lacking. Notwithstanding, like Elvis, he will live on because he can never really die, he is and has been for most of his life, simply unreal. Long Live the King. The King is Dead.
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