I am sick of hearing about Michael Jackson. He is dead. Let the person be. There wasn’t much of him to go around based on his weight at the time of death, but everyone is picking at and squeezing his carcass for every last vestige that can be monetized.

But because they won’t leave it alone, I’ve got something to say about it.

One of the bigger topics, glossed over by the major media networks, is Jackson’s purported pedophilia. A cement-headed Long Island stereotype, Republican representative Peter King, griped that society is “glorifying” a “low-life” instead of giving press to salt of the earth types like firefighters, soldiers and other champions of the lower class.

(more…)

The prevailing thought on my mind has been: “Wow, amazing that someone can be accused of being a pedophile, be so odd that eccentric doesn’t quite cut it, mangle their appearance with surgery to the point of abject disfigurement … yet still be mourned by millions. It says a lot about one’s accomplishments.”

Or, it at least cites how highly suspect is the value of public opinion. People, in general, have notoriously bad judgment and dubious taste.

(more…)