Don't You Know, Baby Yeah Yeah

It's only now that he's dead that I think of Michael Jackson as the child he never ceased to be.

His first indelible impression on me came via a VH1 mini-series version of his young life. That horrendously abusive father who tortured his children toward talent, until one of them (young precious darling Michael) fulfilled those Jehovah's witness prayers. It seemed cruel that the young Jacksons were whipped with sapling switches and forced into state fairs and talent shows, but Michael was beatific enough to unravel the torture; he almost gave it depth.

The extent of his childhood idyll was demonstrative of a deeply stunted man. Adulthood seemed to be forced on him. He acted out abusively, effectively alienating himself from societal norms. In the end his astonishing feats were overshadowed by his embarrassing behavior.

It's easy to be a post-mortem apologist, trite even, but it’s coming more naturally to me than I would’ve expected.

**This is incomplete, but it won't stay timely for long. Figured I'd post now -- flesh it out later. I take back the "this doesn't make me sad" comment. It just took awhile to move away from "wow, something is really HAPPENING!?" You know?