I haven’t been doing these Passing’ things for a while, mainly because it started feeling ghoulish, but this… This couldn’t pass without some comment.
From the Yahoo article comes this comment:
“No joke. King of Pop is no more. Wow,” Michael Harris, 36, of New York City, read from a text message a friend sent to his telephone. “It’s like when Kennedy was assassinated. I will always remember being in Times Square when Michael Jackson died.”
It sounds a bit over the top, doesn’t it? But I think it’s true.
I was sitting in front of the hospital where my mom works when I heard. I read it as a text message, and the phone slipped out of my hands as soon as I read the words “Michael Jackson is dead.”
Brother Eric and I listened to Thriller over and over again as kids.
I once tried to break dance to one of his songs.
He was only fifty years old. Fifty.
The article says he was staging a comeback. And he would have done it. I’m sure of it.
He was a strange, troubled man, but for whatever reason, I never stopped liking him, never stopped hoping for him.
The King of Pop is dead. My God, the King of Pop is dead.