Somewhere, on some plateau of some kind, I have to wonder if Ed McMahon is a little ticked. It’s safe today for celebrities to cross the street again with the passing of McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
It’s hard to know where to come down on exactly when it comes to these things. Death is of course a sad occasion, especially when it isn’t natural in the cases of Fawcett and Jackson. I think I feel bad that I don’t feel worse. Somebody on yahoo is comparing the news about Jackson similar to the questions about where you were when Kennedy or Elvis died.
I guess my trouble is that I trust the art, not the artist. Michael Jackson made some tremendous music through Bad to be sure. He doesn’t sound like a person I’m going to be missing from my life. And we still have the music. Privately, he sounded a little nuts. Given the stress of the need for “spectacularness” in his live performances, I can’t help but wonder what all the “painkiller” taking may have done to his cardiac system. I already don’t remember where I was where I heard the news, but I’m glad that we do keep the memory of the incredible performances and terrific music. After all, in the end, nothing else really matters. I remember hearing John Cusack, a favorite actor of mine, state that he really didn’t care how Pacino, Hoffman, or Deniro to arrive at such a performance level because it didn’t add or take away from his enjoyment of the performances. I guess I fall into that camp. The music was amazing, everything else irrelevant in the grand scheme.
Farrah smartly eulogized herself before she was gone. And Ed got his due from the late night talk show hosts. Celebrity death usually comes in threes. I guess that comes to a relief to the Carradine family who were able to see David get pushed off the front pages (along with any unsavory stories of his alleged sexual proclivities).
So long to all of em, thanks for the great work which is what I paid attention to, the curious headlines, you can keep.
Mike's Pub 