Watching the comic spectacle of Michael Jackson's memorial event in LA, it's hard not to think of the many things he seems, in death, to symbolize:
1) Our strange, unhealthy American obsession with youth. How different is Jackson's pedophelia from a nation getting hot over a 10 year old boy singing like a man? Michael Jackson learned early in life that youth was something to be exploited in every possible way, and he followed through. Boy did he follow through.
2) The weirdness of Los Angeles. Tinseltown lives up to it's reputation by producing another big burrito with nothing real inside it. Mr. Jackson proves once more that dying can be great for your career, by turning out thousands of passionate followers who had no interest in him whatever three weeks ago. "It's nice to be thought of as a person instead of a personality" he once said. But with all the industry honchos and even his own family spewing only platitudes about him being the king of something or an icon of something else, it's clear that never happened.
3) The assinine infotainment that passes for news nowadays on CNN. I have to believe that something meaningful, perhaps even some small heroic act, took place in this world of ours last week. But all we got from television was a chance to marvel at countless photos of Michael and wonder if his nose was really real.
4) Lastly, and this is my favorite, Micheal Jackson is a perfect symbol of the American music industry: old, fake, badly preserved, and not turning out anything new of real interest. RIP creativity.
