and now Michael Jackson?

The way I like to remember Michael Jackson (and the 1970s)

“The difference between insanity and genius is measured only by success”

I made a joke on someone’s Facebook page that I’m preparing for a plague of Paris Hilton’s thong underwear. Forget Hollywood Babylon; this is Hollywood Apocalypse. Farrah and the King of Pop on the same day?

Yes, it’s too early to joke, and with the respect that’s due these two icons of popular American culture just for enduring the press, I will proceed on a more somber note: I’m beginning to feel very old.

I am only four years younger than Michael and in the early-1970s, my Jackson 5 records got as much play as my Osmond’s and Partridge Family LPs. The Halloween that Thriller was released I dressed as a dead bride (home made costume from thrift store remnants) and partied in West Hollywood like it was 1999. Jackson’s music has always been part of the soundtrack of my life and despite the freakish manifestations of an unstable psyche, he was a tremendous talent who brought great joy and some heartache to the world in his time here. Talent seems to come with a proportionate price of anguish.

It’s a sad day to be sure.

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