Dead. And buried. But not mourned, by me at least.
Yes, you've guessed. Michael Jackson, the "King of Pop".
Michael Jackson has for decades been a media joke, and since his death even more so.
Watch my lips: Michael Jackson is a musical non-entity.Musical Greats
OK. I know he was after my time, my time being that of Elvis, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. But then so were ABBA. And so were the Eurythmics. And so was Boy George. There is more of note from one line
of any of the above than from the entire output of the boy-befriending Mr J.
Don't believe me? Then hum me a melody. Cite me a line. You can't. You know you can't. Because from this over-hyped, media frenzy, medical catastrophe called Jackson there's actually only ONE WORD which has lodged. One word registered in my not totally blinkered brain.
And that word is "thriller". Da da da THRILLL ERRRRRRR!
I genuinely can't recall even the syllables before it. King of Pop, for ONE WORD? I think not. I truly don't.
What with Jade Goody, Susan Boyle, and now Michael Jackson, it's true to say we are moving into a media-manipulated universe of epic proportions. Nothing matters any more unless it's on the telly or in the tabloids. Nothing. They rule our lives. Blogging offered a small voice once, for a short time, but they got rid of us simply by absorption. Why read Naked Blog, when you can read Paris Hilton's? Or Stephen Fry's? Eaten by amoebae.In Other News...
On Monday I got a bit drunk and plucked up the courage to check my emails, the first time since December. Basically it was just "Glance, Delete, Glance, Delete...." for an age it seemed. One, from the walking group asking me to return, I replied to in the negative - and one from asta, and one from Danny I didn't yet, as the right words weren't in my head. But thank you both so much. (I only got as far back as February, and then the bravado ran out.) And thank you to anyone else I either didn't get to or deleted in haste along with BBC Springwatch and the Maharishi Channel. Terrible spammer that Maharishi.
Life trots along, mostly in Warcraft fantasy. I call this laptop my "Universe In A Suitcase." It's not that real life is unpleasant, it's just got boring. After living in the same damn house since I was 26, I yearn so much for a change. Another place, another outlook, another job, some other people. But experience tends to show that the elderly are better not
uprooting themselves. Better to stay with the familiar. Although listening to the amount of Polish being spoken in Easter Road yesterday it would seem one has moved to Krakow anyway.Homo Phobia
Yesterday I bought The Times newspaper, as there was no Guardian. Only as I left the shop it sank in that I'd just given Rupert Murdoch ninety pence, the first money I've paid him since his newspapers tried to pogrom gay men in the early eighties. No gay men should pay money to Murdoch, ever. But in their ignorance and lack of history they flock to Sky and The Sun.
Off to work now, hi ho as I used to call it. Wednesday mornings Blizzard Entertainment do maintenance of their servers, and Warcraft is down. Unavailable at any price. Reality bites. Some weeks they just do rolling restarts.
Later yesterday I started two new guys in the guild... they get a week's probation to see if we're right for them and vice versa. The guild software doesn't allow for democracy. It's not built in. Rather, guilds work on the Iranian system, with me as Supreme Leader. It's not a position I'm averse to.Thriller Killer
And finally: if there's been one theme during the decade of Naked Blog it's this: Doctors Make You Worse.
And I think one look at the young corpse of MJ would validate that mantra one hundred-fold. It was no surprise to me whatsoever when the first thing they got Susan Boyle after some new frocks was a Private Doctor. Dr Lotzsof. You couldn't make it up. I fear for her safety.