MJ, Carradine, and the All Powerful Elvis (CAN IT ALREADY!)

Ordinarily I do my best to basically completely ignore the media, except for what I specifically look up on the internet—but of course on my way into work today, just before hopping on the elevator, I glance up at the monitor and there it is…..a major news company covering more garbage about Michael Jackson. Now, I realize that me commenting on all of this is only further adding to the projectile vomit his death has caused….but its more than just Michael Jackson. This blog is for all of those people who think Elvis will be coming back or for those who actually have sympathy for David Carradine.

Death is the final frontier people. Everyone dies, sooner or later. Certainly this does not minimize the grief survivor’s experience and it definitely does not make the blow less minimal in the case of tragic deaths—but carrying on and on about people who overdose or die during some elicit sexual act is utterly ridiculous. I understand respecting someone because of their talents, skills, and contributions, but turning them into some mythic character, a vision of some sort of hero just because of their celebrity is bullshit.

In my opinion we should still be talking about Farrah Fawcett if we are going to talk about a celebrity death. Here is a woman who fought cancer for years, who shared her journey with others, (all be it a painful and heartbreaking one,) even when she knew she was knocking on death’s door.  Her story may empower someone suffering right now, struggling for their life.

Stories like those of Michael Jackson and David Carradine will likely not give any one hope, faith, or courage. It just reminds everyone that you should probably not take sleeping medication that doctors and nurses both advise you against, and that strangling yourself with a neck tie while you jerk off is probably not going to go over quite as well as one would imagine.

Seriously, unless someone is writing my name on a big fat check, I do not give two shits about what happens to Michael Jackson’s estate. It sickens me that we have become so absorbed in these celebrity fairy tales. If a recluse neighbor who invited little boys to sleep over with him accidentally overdosed—the neighborhood would probably have a block party. It’s annoying that having celebrity either means we rip apart a person’s moral character, (usually those celebrities that HAVE moral character,) or we wave a magic wand and totally cover up whatever we like as we see fit. So while MJ can have slumber parties with boys, dangle his kid over a banister, and continuously mutilate his own face, Janet will never live down her….dare I say it….nipple slip.

As a matter of fact, while I am on this tangent let me discuss some other sick and messed up media coverage. OCTOMOM! What the hell? All you have to do is go down to your local ghetto to find a woman who pops out kids for welfare—no difference. Well in all actuality there is a difference, OCTOMOM is educated. At any rate, THANK YOU MEDIA, for making sure that I had no doubts about where the relationship of John and Kate was heading, that the inside of Michael Jackson’s closet had a trap door, and that Spence and Heidi are legit, er…frauds….er…legit…what is it this week?

eelliso1 is is a contributing writer for projectgroupthink.wordpress.com. Get instant updates for this blog via Twitter: PGTblog.