The King is dead – well the much celebrated ‘King of Pop’ anyway!
In the unlikely event you have been hidden away in a cave and not heard the news, singer, dancer and musician, Michael Jackson, passed away during Thursday evening (UK time) from what is said to have been a heart attack.
The media, of course, are questioning if this was brought on by the excessive use of painkillers and whether one such drug was administered by his ‘personal physician’ a short while before his death.
Whatever the outcome, MJ ended his life as he had lived through most of it – in chaos.
He is a spectacular advert for not pushing your children into the world of showbusiness at an early age. His life seemed to be, at best, unrelated to reality, and at worst seedy and questionable. Both his unhealthy fascination with young people and his obsession with changing his appearance through the use of the surgeon’s knife clearly demonstrated a mind that was not at ease within it’s own framework.
Commentators are saying we will all remember where we were when MJ died. Personally, I will not.
He was unquestionably a great entertainer and had a knack of grabbing the headlines whenever he wanted. That is as far as it goes for me – but then I do not share the fascination for celebrity misfits that many people do.
It could be argued he was seen as a role model by many of his fans but surely a lifestyle like his is not something to be envied or aspire to?
It seems that Jackson has departed this earth as he lived his life – in a huge mess that others are going to spend years cleaning up.