All Michael All the Time
I really don't like writing about Michael Jackson, but what can I do? His life and death clog the news, the cable stations, the Today Show and all the special Hollywood oriented tabloid-type shows. There is just no escape--except for PBS which had the nerve to lead Wednesday's news hour with our withdrawal from Iraqi cities, the unemployment numbers, Obama pitching health care reform and the Korean ship turning back. No Michael. No Governor Palin and not even Governor Sanford. What could PBS have been thinking?
Save for PBS there is no escape--not from the pseudo-news and not even physically. Last week I was trapped in Westwood where Michaels dead, but not certified dead, body was taken. This week, all week, I'm trapped in the hills of Encino. The police and parking enforcement have closed off Havenhurst, blocking escape. As Andy Rooney might ask: "Did you ever wonder who authorized the closure of a street and who pays for the policing?" I wonder.
All the news folk doing their standup reports in front of the family compound have trucks and satellite uplinks. Then there are the fans, the gawkers, the grieving and the weird. There is very little news.
Every contradictory rumor is spread--and not just on the internet but on broadcast and cable shows. There's a will. There's no will. He is not the biological father. His ex-wife is not the biological mother. My favorite on MSNBC yesterday was the report that an African American Jewish woman living in England is his secret wife--and just possibly the biological mother. I'd be less surprised to find that I'm the biological mother. His brother opined today that Michael was in great health and didn't use drugs. This leads me to believe that like Elvis, he's faked his death and he and Elvis are serving burgers in Toledo.
©2009 Jonathan Dobrer
www.Dobrer.com
Mister Drober, thank you, thank you, thank you. Finally, someone had something honest and intelligent to say about the idiocy surrounding one of the strangest human being (now gone) that appeared on this planet. Thank you, again.
Dante