I'm really sick of this Michael Jackson stuff

Michael Jackson died 12 days ago. I’ve been tired of hearing about him for about 11 of those 12 days. By now, as his memorial service is going on, I’m so fed up with hearing about the passing of the gloved one that I could puke.
Let’s take a look at what has happened since Jackson died: U.S. troops pulled out of all Iraqi cities; the Marines launched a strong offensive against the Taliban in Iraq. Sarah Palin quit as governor of Alaska. The president of Honduras was overthrown and a serial killer terrorized a city in South Carolina. Steve McNair was murdered by his girlfriend, who then shot herself, in an affair that is becoming increasingly sordid.
All of these were overshadowed by the death of a (to put it mildly) screwed up entertainer.
For the sake of accuracy, let’s review the subject of this inane reverence. Michael Jackson was a singer—I don’t even know if he was a musician, because I don’t know if he played an instrument. He was good at what he did, which was sing and dance. He was very, very popular, because he sang and danced.
He was also a black man who bleached his skin because he didn’t want to be black, a man whose nose had collapsed due to multiple plastic surgeries and a man worth hundreds of millions of dollars who was hundreds of millions of dollars in debt. He was, at worst, a criminal pedophile; at best, he was a porn-inhaling pervert (see the stuff from his trial, which his defense team did not refute, about his porn collection).
Sadly, he was also addicted to prescription drugs for 25 years—an addiction that killed him.
The life of Michael Jackson should serve as a cautionary tale. Instead, the global masses are ready to beatify him. All because he could sing and dance.
Frankly, I am revolted by many things involving the spectacle following Jackson’s death. I’m revolted by his father pimping his businesses any time he speaks about his youngest kid; I’m sickened by how his folks have swooped in and tried to take control of his estate, which is not in accordance with his will. I’m disgusted by how Debbie Rowe, who bore Jackson two kids then walked away from them, suddenly wants them back (along, no doubt, with a nice fat check). The idea that anyone (family or promoters) wanted to charge people to attend his memorial service is simply vomit-inducing.
And then there’s the fans. The screaming, crying, we love you we will never forget you you were our personal God fans. Give me a damned break. The cult created by these folks in a matter of less than two weeks to this very flawed, very human individual is a testament to the stupidity and naïveté of the global public. Michael Jackson was a tremendous talent, and those talents will be missed—but to the extent of people camping out at Neverland or flying in from around the world to try to go to a memorial service? That 1.6 million people would try to attend it? That people were committing suicide in their angst over the loss of Michael Jackson?
Get a life!
This level of adulation shows that independent thought is still at a premium on this planet. People who saw Thriller on MTV and were hooked are mourning like we’ve lost a great prophet or someone changed their lives on a personal level (don’t give me this crap that “Billie Jean” or “Beat It” did just that). The guy slept in the bed as pre-teen boys, spent money irresponsibly and had a drug problem. What is to be revered here? Nothing. But somehow, there’s a disconnect between Michael Jackson the human being and Michael Jackson the musician. That’s no slam on Michael Jackson; that’s a huge slam on society.
How dumb are we as a society? Are we completely incapable of digesting the full picture on anyone, that there’s such a need for idol worship that doing things that are fundamentally wrong can be ignored or overlooked because we can’t handle the truth? Do we have to go insane with grief over actors, athletes and musicians when they die, then turn around and ignore the passing of truly great people just because they weren’t famous?
The answer to the question of our stupidity is plain: see Hilton, Paris and Kardashian, Kim. They should be sources of ridicule, but instead, we’ve idolized them. How weak.
Steve McNair was blown away by a pissed-off girlfriend, possibly because he decided he didn’t want to leave his wife. McNair’s memory will forever be tarnished for the way he died, which was in a situation he shouldn’t have placed himself in. Michael Jackson OD’ed and his loss is being mourned with greater intensity than that of Pope John Paul II’s (ironically, many people who don’t believe in a higher power are among those wailing Jackson’s loss in a way befitting a deity).
Pathetic. Sad. Disgusting.
Godspeed, Mike. Congratulations on leaving the circus behind.