I don't care for Michael Jackson one way or another. Correction - I didn't used to care for Michael Jackson one way or the other. However, last night was like the final nail in the coffin so to speak.
Unable to sleep, I switched TV on and EVERY open channel was showing the Michael Jackson Memorial. The main difference between them, was that one would show snippets of bygone concerts, while another would show 'special' performances that were tributes to Michael Jackson while he was still alive.
One channel had a 'commentator' who made the event sound somewhat like a tennis match at Wimbledon. While I was in the kitchen and hence could only hear the TV, I actually thought I was on the Wimbledon channel. You can imagine my surprise when the Rev Al Sharpton began his fire and brimstone speech. I thought Wimbledon had taken a turn...for the worse (which I previously didn't consider possible).
I quickly grew very tired of all the miracles attributed to Mr Jackson during his life. One shining example (I can't remember which deluded soul came up with this one) was that 'Michael Jackson taught us how to love'. It kinda makes me wonder how homo-sapiens made it thus far without Michael's input. Even Martin Luther King Jr. only had a decade or so to learn how to love - and that was if Michael began teaching shortly after he was born.
The Memorial continued through into the early morning show Curtainman watches while he drinks his morning coffee. He rolled his sleepy eyes several times while watching the program and when yet another performer graced the stage, Curtainman said "Who's that?"
"Michael Jackson," I laughed, being awake enough to recognise the station had slipped in a clip of Michael performing. "Apparently he's performing at his own Memorial. He's kinda egotistical that way," I concluded.
"The Memorial isn't even over and I've forgotten him already," mumbled Curtainman.
Well, let's just hope someone remembers to put Michael back in the coffin before he's buried.
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