And once again news items which have brought the world to its very knees passed me by without notice. Apparently yesterday Michael Jackson went to see for himself which afterlife myth is true.
Since everybody else on the tubez seems to be doing it, my favorite MJ memory - Mid-1970's: Driven to despair and existential angst at the sheer pointlessness of life in a world in which every other bleeping song on the radio is the bleeping Jackson Five, I pull the radio right bleeping out of my 1970 Ford Maverick. During subsequent body work to repair/cover terminal salt-related leprosy on the Mav, I prevail on the body guy to cover over the hole on the front fender that once housed the antenna.
I like to think this presaged MJ's later mania for compulsive body work of his own. I'm absolutely not to blame for the pedophilia. RIP, I guess, but you already gave me all the gift I wanted from you a few years ago when your alarming face stopped showing up every time I passed near a cathode ray tube. I confess to both my loyal readers: early, middle or late period, I have never been an MJ fan.
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