The death of Michael Jackson, the King of Plastic and Pop (some may argue that both these areas are not wholly mutually exclusive and, hence, may consider this description of him redundant), as we have seen as consumers of any and all media, has been just as overly publicised as his life.
Why?
Sure, he wrote some perfectly-pitched, sappy, catchy songs with emotively-charged lyrics; he even sold millions of albums the world over. People called him an idol, an icon. But, ultimately, he was just an entertainer – he brought tears to many an eye; he managed to elicit many a smile from his fans but while he was tucking little boys in, sleeping in oxygen chambers and frolicking around with the llamas and chimpanzees at his Never Land ranch, he didn’t do anything that ‘made the world a better place’, as he himself so eloquently put it.
His eccentricities, mind-blowing excesses and apparent self-loathing (a shadowy, somewhat sleazy part of which, I may add, that was hidden from public view) fascinated us all. We all watched as voyeurs, transfixed, to see what ridiculous thing he would do next. His career was as much about his music as it was about his crazy antics.
People who have passed on, people who have made more of an impact (in terms of environmental protection, human rights, free trade, and so on) have fallen through the cracks in the media, nowhere to be found, not even between the lines …
This warrants an examination of our own lives and values; we need to ask ourselves which qualities we consider worthy of admiration in the people we look up to.
To put things in perspective, while most mourn the death of this performer, this one man, spare a thought for the millions dying of AIDS, those who have lost their lives during the Zimbabwe crisis and those fighting and dying in the name of freedom in Darfur and Myanmar. These are the real idols.
