"Darkness Falls Across the Land"

(Read this first part with a really deep voice, like James Lipton, James Earl Jones, or Barry White)

June 25, 2009. Do you remember what happened?

I do.

I was home alone, working on a novel. At approximately 2:00 p.m. my sister called.

I answered.

"Did you hear that Michael Jackson died today?" she said.

Unable to believe that such a horrible thing could have happened, I chided her, telling her to peddle her unfunny jokes at someone else's door (or phone, as the case may be).

She insisted it was the truth.

When at last it sunk in that I was not, in fact, the victim of a prank call (but rather the recipient of the most earth-shattering breaking news in years), I hung up the phone and sank to the ground in a heap. Tears streamed freely down my cheeks, and I wildly pounded the beige carpet in our living room with my fists like I were beating a tom-tom.

"Why?" I shouted. The neighbors must have heard me exclaim. I'm sure they were asking the same question, though. I was merely voicing what they themselves felt. "Why? You could have taken anyone! Anyone at all! Tito, Randy, Janet, Jesse, Vincent, Reggie, Samuel, Bo, any of them would have done! Why Michael?"

After venting for two minutes straight, I put on my Thriller record album and listened to "P.Y.T", "Beat It" and "The Girl is Mine" over and over and over and over, imagining that I, not Paul McCartney, was singing a duet with MJ. I even went to the kitchen and found an old white spandex glove in a box on one of the pantry shelves, put it on, and just stared it. "Who's bad?" I cried. "I'm bad!" But I couldn't make myself believe it. Not with my face soaked the way it was, my eyes as red as a Chinese flag, my lip quivering like a Jew's harp. I wanted to believe I was bad; I simply could not....

You're not buying this, are you? No? Good.

Actually, my reaction to the news on June 25, 2009 was somewhat mellow in comparison to what I just described. My sister told me the news over the phone. I said, "Oh, that's too bad." I think she wanted me to act more distraught than I did, but I simply did not have it in me that afternoon to tear my hair out and scream like a little child. I, a mere fan of Michael Jackson, preferred to leave the serious grieving to the Michael Jackson worshipers.

[Note: If you are wondering, yes, there are indeed Michael Jackson worshipers. I went on Hotmail and typed michaeljacksonisgod in the Hotmail address box. It said that name was unavailable, but I could have michaeljacksonisgod1910. Then, I tried MichaelJacksonIsGod; it was also unavailable, but I could have MichaelJacksonIsGod1924. I can only conclude that close to 4,000 Hotmail users, if not more, think that Michael Jackson is god. I would not be surprised if at some future date, people start building churches to him and put his memorabilia inside so that people can make pilgrimages just to see a shiny glove or a wornout pair of dancing shoes as if they were the bones of St. Peter, nails from the cross, or John the Baptist's left sandal. I think Neverland theme park already does this]

Suddenly, on June 25, 2009, the words "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?" referred to the death of the world's most beloved Jackson instead of the terrorist attacks on 9/1l. Suddenly, the words of William Blake, "When the stars threw down their spears, / And watered heaven with their tears" (from "The Tyger"), made sense to everyone. Suddenly, another Nostradamus prophecy had come to pass. What? Nostradamus predicted Michael Jackson's death? Well, I'm no expert on 16th century prophecy, but read it for yourself:

Because of conflict, a King [Michael Jackson] shall abandon his kingdom [his fans and Neverland],

The greatest chief shall fail in time of need [his doctor]

Dead, slain [MJ again],

Few shall escape [the other Jacksons]

All cut off [Lisa Marie]

One shall be witness of it

[us; see the line from MJ's song "We Are the World":

"When the world must come together as one"]

(from Charles A. Ward's The Oracles of Nostradamus)

There can be no doubt that his death was truly a notable event (by the way, that prophecy doesn't really talk about Michael Jackson's death; I'm not sure what it is referring to, but it isn't that). My question is, why did he have to release this last CD? I'm certain there are and will be people out there who will purchase and praise the posthumous album Michael and place it on the same level as his other albums simply because it's Michael Jackson and he's singing (of course, I'm certain those same people would probably purchase and praise and place an album of Michael Jackson burping the alphabet on the same level as his others ones as well). Don't get me wrong; I am not disparaging this new album. It's actually a pretty good album, in fact; it's just not the same Michael I've been listening to all these years, so the hoped-for sentimental attachment is not there. So, go ahead, buy it, hold it, squeeze it, love it, call it George (from Looney Tunes); I will remain content with my vinyl Thriller album, which allows me to listen to "P.Y.T", "Beat It", and "The Girl Is Mine" over and over and over and over. I like it better, even if it is scratched, is scratched, is scratched, is scratched, is scratched, is scratched, is scratched. 

"Who's bad?"

"I'm bad!"