Beat It

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Michael Jackson was a huge superstar, especially in the early 1980’s as I came of age.

It was all about Madonna, Prince, Bruce and Michael Jackson back then.

I loved Bruce, of course, and appreciated the talents of the other three.

Michael Jackson was impossible to ignore.

I watched the premiere of ‘Thriller’ with everyone else. Every song was catchy as hell. The girls loved him.

“He’s weird,” I would tell anyone who’d listen.

I never bought any of his records, but I didn’t change the channel either.

Talented, weird guy.

The stories of kids staying at his amusement park home started to surface.

Surely the parents had an eye on him.

He was just weird, with the monkey and the oxygen sleeping chamber.

“He didn’t have a childhood!”

He had the soft voice, the skin color going from black to white.

As my brother John once said:

“Only in America can you be born a poor black man, and grow to be a rich, white woman.”

But he was chased by the media.

The pedophile whispers grew.

He went to trial and was found not guilty, but he paid millions of dollars to settle things.

So, the whispers got louder.

Ten years ago, he died in a weird way...

...he was overdosed while trying to get some sleep.

Sad end to a sad life.

Except it isn’t over, it seems.

HBO ran a documentary on the accusations.

The kids (men now) laid it all out.

Truly disgusting and disturbing stuff.

I didn’t watch it. Probably never will. I did read about it a little bit, but in the end, I didn’t want to know.

To what end?

What will be solved now?

He can’t defend himself.

Back in the 80’s I found him to be weird.

That’s how I’ll remember him.

He’ll get what he gets if he’s actually judged in another world.

Judging him now, here, is a waste of energy.

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