Where I Was When M.J. Died

I'm sitting here at my grammas house, seeing the news as it breaks. My
father in law is in one of those pointless coversations with my gramma
about whether or not Radio Shack opens at 9am or at 10am, and that he
thinks they open at 9, bu they probably open at 10, and all the
logistic pros and cons of meeting up at 9am or 10am, and how much
earlier he'd have to leave depending on where they are meeting, and
maybe what traffic will be like. I'm trying to tune them out as the
announcer says that another source claims that he is in fact dead.
Silas moans from the corner "when can we change the channel". Five
hours of cartoons and pre-teen sitcoms on a warm sunny day isn't
enough for my big strapping boys. They stare at the remote like a
savage dog eyes up a toddler that happens to wander off into the woods.
My pragmatic side is telling me this is no big deal, in fact it
doesn't look like a big deal. I even have a rather morbidly humorous
post about it on my facebook.

I was never a Micheal Jackson fan, and I would question the
masculinity of any fellow who was. I liked Thriller, and remember when
I first saw the video on TV. It must have been the beginning of my
facination with zombies. But I'd have to say I liked Weird Al's
version better. Deep down I can't deny his talent though. The talking
head on TV compares him to Elvis and the Beatles. Now that he is
freshly dead, and there is no percieved threat to my machismo, I can
safely agree. It's tragic that he died like this, on the eve of what
might have been his comeback tour. It's tragic that he died at all, as
if he could live forever. Would it have been any better had he died an
old man on a ventilator? Or what if he was found dead David Carradine
style? Maybe that would have at least been in step with the crazyness
that has been surrounding him in recent past.

Truth is, he died young, as in he was younger than my parents. In
addition, he was present somewhere, anywhere, all throughout my
childhood. My kindergarten teacher had his album in our classroom. He
was all over TV. He was the permeating backdrop of my early existance.
And it feels hollow to have a highly recognizable piece of my past
pass from this existance. It's as if you pulled up to your old
neighborhood and another of your neighbors houses sits vacant and in
disrepair.

Well anyway, Godspeed Micheal Jackson.