Yet Another Farewell to Michael Jackson

This is probably a little late in the game. The shocking news has been announced, the memorial services have been held, and Entertainment Tonight has almost run out of things to talk about. Perhaps now that the dust is starting to settle, I'll throw in my two cents and pay my respects.

Although Michael Jackson and I have fallen out of communication over the past decade or so, I did admire him once. Nine-year-old Amy had a Michael Jackson doll, a Michael Jackson t-shirt, and Thriller on vinyl. I spent hours sewing crooked silver sequins onto one of my grandmother's old white cocktail gloves, and I endured teasing when I wore a black and red pleather ensemble to school. I grilled my parents for details about his career with The Jackson Five. As an adult, it hurt to look at photos of his latest plastic surgery adventure, but I still bought his music on CD and admired his ability to put together funky beats and interesting lyrics.

The most poignant lesson Michael Jackson has taught me doesn't really pertain to his music. It has to do with our inability to let an artist's work stand for itself. I wonder if it's possible, in 2009, to just step back and say "Great song!" without wondering who put it out, what they were wearing, and how many times they've been photographed without underwear. Do we really need to know how much of a weirdo someone is in order to enjoy (or condemn) what they create?

Historically speaking, a lot of great creative minds have been perverts, hooligans, recluses, drunks and all-around creeps. Jeremy Bentham, proponent of utilitarianism, insisted on having his remains stuffed and put on display at a London library. Shakespeare was a player in more than one way. Virginia Woolf was chronically suicidal. The list is endless, but in most cases, we still admire their work. As far as I can tell, very few great artists ever ask the general public to walk in their shoes. They just want us to pay attention to their stuff.

I'm not prepared to forget Michael Jackson's fall from grace. I don't know if he was really a pedophile, or if he was guilty of any of the sins of which he was accused. I do know, however, that when played at a party, "Billy Jean" will get people on their feet. I know that I still occasionally catch myself trying to moonwalk. If you need an example of the wonderful ways in which his music (and not his life) have inspired people, go to Youtube and look up the ABC scene from "Clerks 2". Trust me.