“Change” is fun and exciting when it’s a meaningless slogan in a presidential race, but when it actually happens in life, it kindov messes with your head even if its only happening in front of you on television screens and not actually TO you.
This week has been like an acid trip – or, since I allegedly don’t know what that’s like – some kind of strange upsidedown dream: Michael Jackson was rushed to the hospital, NOT, for plastic surgery; Farrah Fawcett went on a mission with REAL angels; and for once, it was Johnny Carson who announced Ed McMahon’s entrance.
Observing people around me’s reactions has been…interesting. From the younger, mostly girls, going “Ed Mac-whatnow?” to the older, mostly girls pretending they were avid Jackson fans when they can’t even name 2 of his albums and the girls in all age brackets being indifferent with Farrah.
Most of them only knew McMahon as the guy who went bankrupt, MJ as the freak who diddled kids, and Farrah as Jonathon Taylor Thomas’ mom in Man Of The House and also maybe the original Cameron Diaz or something.
Some however, aren’t content with collective mourning, because that’s too conformist and puts them in a position too identical to the world around them when they are in a constant battle to prove their uniqueness. So they co-opt a sad event like the death of a celebrity and find ways to make the event all about themselves. This transparent charade was seen all over my Myspace, Twitter, Facebook and Adultfriendfinder accounts and while entertaining, it’s also sickening.
Expressing sympathy and well wishes after a death of a public figure is ok-sure-fine-whatever, but when you go over the top with it without cause or connection, you’re just being ridonkulous. I’m talking about the phonies… These people made fun of Michael Jackson’s behavior and appearance, and those who didn’t never made a conscious effort to listen to his music within the last 10 years. They don’t know crap about McMahon’s life or sidekicking on the Tonight Show and they didn’t ever care. Farrah, to them, was a girl who was famous because she was pretty (every girls dream) and still resembled herself up until the end (If she had dramatically changed her hair and gained weight for instance – the romanticization of old-Fawcett would not have been a priority for these people).
The real effect these 3 celebrity deaths had was nothing at all what the ignorant responders portray.
Ed McMahon’s passing showed us that fame is fleeting and money, if not well managed, is easily lost.
Farrah Fawcett’s death to cancer reminds us that fame or beauty won’t protect us from the worlds most vicious of diseases and agonizing deaths.
And Michael Jackson‘s demise was a rude awakening that the constants in life that bring us comfort, will eventually come to an end and the world will in fact, continue to go on. Michael Jackson was the freak with talent that we all liked but were creeped out by, but we liked that he was around and doing his thing. Jackson had become like The Simpsons: no one made an effort to watch or care anymore, but it was comforting to know that they are still around and although you didn’t seek them out – when you find them on your tv, you’d stick around awhile and see what was up.
The less glamorous truth of this tri-death is that a former angel was cheated out of a longer, happier life, a nice old man finally put the light out on what was an embarrassing slow fade that lasted 20 years after his prime and a troubled pop star finally succeeded in his 10 year unintentional effort to just make his body stop fkking working…
These are scary things…
What about Billy Mays???
Funny you compared MJ’s death to The Simpsons. Remember that old episode where Homer goes crazy and meets the big white guy who thinks he’s Michael Jackson in the crazy house? LoL
r.i.p Billy Mays