HelpMe

So it's about 2:30 Tuesday afternoon, and we're "watching" -- I use the term loosely -- the Michael Jackson Memorial, which I had vowed not to watch. I forgot that K would be home and would want to watch it, for the performances, she says. Probably. Anyway, I have to be quiet, because any remark I've made so far -- something about Stevie Wonder's song, I think -- she says "Well, you don't have to watch it, you know! I can go upstairs! You can change the channel!" Oy. So it's on. As I type, Al Sharpton is speaking. And I finally figured out who he reminds me of, but you've got to be old to get it:


This is the main cast of a TV show I loved when I was very young. It's called Amos 'n' Andy; it was based on a very successful radio show. Amos, on the left, was a hard-working, sensible cab driver who reminded me for some reason of my grandfather. Andy, on the right, was the slightly dumb buddy that you see on every TV show. The man in the middle was Kingfish, a demagogue in their little community, full of scam and bluster, and always trying to get Andy to buy into his doomed get-rich-quick schemes. The way he talked was bigger than life; every simple sentence was a performance, and almost nothing was ever sincere.

Guess who Al Sharpton reminds me of? Nothing like living up (or down) to the qualities of the worst kind of stereotype.

Anyway, Michael Jackson. I'm not that interested, but I'll say my piece. He was very talented, although I never understood the worldwide adulation. I don't think he was a pedophile. I think he was a damaged man who never grew up, and whose family exploited him from the minute they saw he had talent, and they still are, and they will continue to do so. His life, no matter how grandiose, was a sad one. If his children brought him joy, he and brought joy to them, so much the better. And now their lives will be sad because there is no way they can continue to live the sheltered lives they did, and everything will change for them. They've been put in the care of a 79 year old grandmother whose husband is certainly the man who made Michael what he was (not in the good way.) When the grandmother's time is done, they will pass to Diana Ross, who is 65, and has already raised her children. And then? Something needed to be more well thought out.

I wonder if this memorial is what he wanted, or if it's just what his father wanted so he could make a buck off the whole thing.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

I felt pretty rotten yesterday after the colonoscopy, which is unusual. Fine for the first few hours, but then I had a low grade fever and could not get warm for hours, or eat. I felt better by nine or nine-thirty, and all through the night, though. I saw four on the clock before I fell asleep. This sucks. But will come in handy tonight, because R's flight, scheduled to arrive around 7:30, has been delayed (hello, Newark Airport!) and is now coming in around 1:45. That's in the a.m. But I'll be awake anyway, so what's the diff?



watching the travesty :: ENTRY #2081
READING: ----- by -----