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June 25. A sad day

We can all talk about our memories. We can debate whether he was sicko. We can put our own growth and intelligence above a sad, lost and unhealthy figure. But in the face of death. When witnessing loss forever we all share a common bond. Today I believe we all share a little responsibility for the death of Michael Jackson. When we were five years old we had to figure things out like how to finger paint. We had to earn friendships, get beat up, try to steal a sucker or sneak out of the house. Michael Jackson never did any of these things. He never had the choice or the power to make a decision for himself. His fate was decided by his parents and family as a child, by slimy managers and agents as a teen ager and by the entire world for the rest of his life. His talented gift came at a cost — not for us or his family– not for record companies or MTV. He paid the cost and didn’t know what he was missing out on. I’m not offering excuse for possible crimes or justification for erratic and unsafe behavior. I just recognize that our country, our materialistic vigor and greed and worship is a constantly evolving science experiment. To suggest we know what it can create undermines the strength that makes it so great. Michael Jackson for most of his life embodies everything that was great about our country. He was a black man that White people loved long before Tiger Woods or Oprah Winfrey or Barack Obama. He was business, art and performance without ever challenging the system. There isn’t now, there has never been and there will never be a more famous or recognizable person. It was America, the public — US that made this possible. In my eyes, in the end more so than the 80’s MJ represents the best of what America offers. This was his last chance. hi final offer to get out of debt, to salvage a shred of his image, to try to learn from his mistakes and be an adult — maybe for the first time in his life. I wish he could have done it. I had tickets. I was going to see him. There is a peace in knowing that he died trying to live the American Dream of forgiveness, hard work and second chances. I pray that one day I will have the power to work myself to death in an honest effort of self respect despite what everyone thinks. RIP MJ. I’m sorry…MJ and Bubbles

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