The rock 'n' roll worship circus

Too much has already been said about that nationally televised Michael Jackson memorial--the worship frenzy poorly disguised as a funeral, relentlessly intruding upon my lunch at Tank Noodle--you know, the one that was all about everybody and everything but a man from Gary, Indiana named Michael Jackson. I have just a couple things to add.

I get why the celebrities and the reporters are all over this MJ thing: When the King of Pop is dead, there's always room for one more on the stage. But I think there are three main reasons that so many ordinary people who never met the man are completely wrapped up in it:

One, sheer voyeurism (exploitative fascination with others' pain). We humans are kinda sick that way. We just can't look away from the sordid details.

Two, selfish nostalgia. It's not Michael Jackson the man people miss so much as Michael Jackson the idea, the symbol of an era, the younger version of self who bought the record, the cassette that was worn out from being danced to and listened to in the '83 TransAm or parents' living rooms, or whatever. Nostalgia is fine, but it's not the same as mourning a human life that just entered its eternal destiny.

Three, the design of the human heart. We were literally made for worship. I can't think of any other reason people are so willing to get emotionally invested in the most trivial things, and attach themselves to the most distant parodies of heroism. It's a good opportunity to ask ourselves if we're worshiping somebody worth worshiping. Although ultra-cynical, I actually liked what my friend wrote today: Michael Jackson died. He's dead. He's not coming back. Jesus died. He's alive. He is coming back. Just a little perspective.

And in closing--I would never, ever want to be anywhere nearly as famous as Michael Jackson, regardless of whether for good reasons or bad. I would never wish it on anyone. You should do the same. If nothing else, he illustrated that that much attention, positive or negative, is deadly. I'm really sorry that what he loved basically killed him, even if not physically. Idols always seem to do that.