Yep, Michael Jackson, The King Of Pop, has died. I am surprised to admit that I was actually choked up when I found out. I was at the gym on a treadmill, minding my own business and listening to the DNAE Beats Mixtape "There's a Wormhole In My Bathroom." As the news came in across the multiple television screens lined up in front of the workout machines I realized that my pulse had risen for a reason that had nothing to do with a cardio workout. I had to brush away tears. In that room full of testosterone I was grateful to be sweating so as not to appear soft in front of the Golds Gymrats. I've always considered myself more of a Prince fan than a Michael fan and generally identified with all things NOT pop throughout the 80's. But there is no doubt that Jackson and his family have had an idelible impact on American culture and, as such, have quietly made an impact on my life that I wasn't entirely aware of until the moment that he passed away. Perhaps it's my age or the recent birth of my first child but I couldn't help but think of my own mortality. This man was a cultural icon before I was born and remained one, despite all the sublime and horrifying elements of his personal life, right up until the day that he died. He had a Disney ride for God's sake!! Rest In Peace Michael Jackson. There will never be another like you.
