They just named a moon crater after him. A moon crater! What’s next? Does Michael Jackson get his own avenue, bridge, highway or city? I know, how about we rename Montana after Michael Jackson? They both start with the letter ‘M’ and no one lives in Montana anyway – maybe it could use the extra attention.
But I’ll tell you who can’t use the extra attention: The King of Pop himself. The nonstop coverage of Michael Jackson since his untimely death on June 25th has been overwhelming and sickening. The news media should be ashamed of themselves for spending the good part of every day exploiting this man, his life, and the lives of his family. Yes, he was an icon. Yes, some of us will miss him. But why are they force-feeding us this ridiculous he said/she said full of interviews with Dr. Who The Hell Cares and the second cousin of Jackson’s middle school teacher who vaguely remembers his fondness of playing in the schoolyard?
Here’s some breaking news, CNN: We Don’t Care!
Let’s face the cold, hard facts, people: Vintage Michael Jackson has been dead to us for decades. Whoa, careful, Davis! Dangerous territory, I know, but ever since he started going nutso with the plastic surgery, battling one child molestation case after another, and dangling his small children off hotel balconies, we – the human beings of Earth – kinda gave up on the guy. His music would slip out of the occasional jukebox and we’d find ourselves humming "Billie Jean," but the greatness and mystique faded long ago. Quite simply, Jackson was a joke. ("Didja hear the one...?")
Yet the media continues to obsess over this man, as they do any controversial celebrity. Jackson’s death warranted a long weekend’s worth of mourning, but as we enter the 12th day of endless musical montages and interviews and toxicology reports and protests and funerals and illegal T-shirt hawking, we’ve become drained. We’re done.
No more special news reports and no more spectacles. I don’t want to view a gallery of weird Michael Jackson tattoos, I don’t want to know what people said about him on Facebook during that marathon funeral-concert at the Staples Center. And while we’re at it, I don’t need to see the Michael Jackson pancake tribute, the Michael Jackson tree-stump ghost or the video of Michael Jackson dancing to R.Kelly in the back of Brett Ratner’s truck. (Okay, maybe that’s something I do need to see.) I don’t need the countdowns, the career retrospectives, or the image of that creepy Michael Jackson baby. Enough is enough!
It’s over, he’s gone – goodbye. Now let us rest in peace.