Michael Jackson’s passing has changed our world forever. He took all of the insanity of the world – the phony, the commercial – and distilled it. He strove to embody our nation’s, nay our world’s, sense of beauty. He personified all the trash that we swallow daily and gave us a target to mock. Now that he has gone, we are alone, profoundly alone.
The world no longer has hope. Around the world, the one thing all humans shared was a love for Michael. He was popular in Korea, Nigeria and India. Now that he is gone, nothing positive can unite us. The world is forever splintered. If the people of Iran wanted us to understand them, they’d suspend the protests for a day in honor of Michael. As it is there is no hope of world unity now. In despair, I keep expecting him to reappear in the sky as our redeemer. This is existentialism.
Farrah Fawcett died of anal cancer. Flesh destroyed her. Michael transcended flesh. He incarnated and morphed into a surreal sense of beauty. Farrah, God bless her, was an icon that became human. Her tragic downfall brought her down to earth. Michael was an icon that became more of an icon. He was not humanized. Lisa Presley once said, “Michael is an artist. He changes his face for us everyday.” Michael was a great artist. He embodied our dreams. He died for our sins.
Some people will say that his wonderland ranch represented predation. To me, his ranch represented our collective sense of innocence in a violent, sexualized world. It was the silhouette of our existence. We asked for a priest; we basked in his faithfulness to Bubbles. We asked him to not grow up. He gave us our childhood back. He tried to restore our innocence.
The world is in denial. The BBC, CNN, nor MTV will admit just how crappy his post – Jackson Five music was. That would reveal that all of us who drink the cool-aid of pop culture are insane. Michael Jackson was a prophet. He revealed our generation to us as John Lennon had reflected the prior generation. And, so he is gone. We have a big hole where he revenged himself by gouging at our collective hearts. We could laugh at his insanity. But we no longer have anywhere to listen to our tears.
RIP Michael Jackson. RIP Farrah Fawcett.
John Press is the author of Culturism: A Word, A Value, Our Future. He is a doctoral student at New York University. http://www.culturism.us has more information about culturism.
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