When we feel bad about someone's death it's not about them - it's about us. When MJ and I were both 10 years old, he was a beautiful boy with a beautiful voice. That he grew up to be the wreck of a human being that he was is sad. It was sad before he died. Now that he's dead it's still sad.
I went to the gym for a half hour last night. During those thirty minutes, the Entertainment channel oscillated betwixt fretting over Farrah Fawcett and expressing shock at the shenanigans of the governor from South Carolina. That whole time, CNN did not deviate once from their incessant Michael Jackson tribute. As though there's nothing else newsworthy going on...
Yeah. Fuck Iran. That's so last week. (But I'll spare Joe's comments section and his LJ friends one of my rants about how MSM is a bunch of maggots feasting on the rotting flesh of a gangrenous society - oops, too late).
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