I try to reserve bandwagon jumping for things like new shit on HBO, the return of leg-warmers and Twitter. Not the death of pop stars. So this post (a rendition of something I posted before – another time, another place) comes from a cute little spot deep down in my heart.
In the spirit of celebrating good things like life, birthdays and sequins (I love sequins) here is a little something for the man in the mirror. He would have been 51 tomorrow.
June 25, 2009
On my way to a fabulous facial, I heard the most bizarre thing cut right through a song I was jamming to on the radio: “Michael Jackson has just gone into cardiac arrest”. No way, I thought. Too random. This is some TMZ.com drama-shit. But it was true. And then MJ died.
I never met the MJ and I’m willing to bet all the shoes in my closet you never did either. But I care that he’s gone, I do. Because beyond the weirdness, the bad press, and the very bad decision to hang a baby over the railing when paparazzi are watching (wtf), there is a legendary career we’ve been touched by (or, hell, even been touched to. Here, here).
It was MJ’s face on my first-ever pop-culture t-shirt. I even had a button. Thriller was my first album and the first piece of vinyl I ever learned to put a needle to. It made me feel grown up to like Michael, like my cool aunt, who loved his music, too.
So when the question of “who cares?” is raised (and I bet my right tit it will be – I’m hanging on to the left one), just remember…
Remember who made the crotch-grab a dance move
Don’t forget who taught us that it was good to be ‘bad’
Keep close to your heart the man who first told you to “beat it”
Never forget “shamon” because even though you don’t know what it means, it’s understood…everywhere
Always remember where “owww!” came from. It was no accident.
Recall forever that Billy Jean was the first baby momma you ever heard of and that she is still not his lover
Keep a place in your heart for the first video that ever scared the shit out of you. Even before Freddy, there was “Thriller”
Remind yourself, especially on your down days, that you are in fact a PYT (pretty young thang)
And always, always keep a place in your heart for the first man who taught us all how to walk on the moon.