The Day Michael Jackson Died

One of my biggest pet peeves with human nature is the apparent need to link every outsider's tragedy somehow to oneself. "Oh my god, I was putting out the milk bottle when the neighbor got beamed up to an alien spacecraft!" Its never, "Oh my god, the neighbor got beamed up...!"

So, when Michael Jackson died, I was only half-surprised to see the whole world "mourning" for a pop star whose whereabouts people didn't even care to know of for the better part of the last decade.

As with everybody else, I have interesting personal memories of Michael Jackson's music. My favorite is the Friday afternoons when my mum did the ironing, grooving to the Thriller album. Another memory is of when I watched in awe the way people's faces morphed into another person's in the Black or White music video. I pretty much blocked out the weird stuff that happened in his personal life, because, well, it was too scary.

Anyhow, I really couldn't believe that he died. I hope there is some sort of conspiracy theory or myth that comes out of this. That he just disappeared to escape from this crazy world, faking his own death. That would be a cool and happy ending.