I was never really into Michael Jackson. Even when I was a teenager in the 80's and Thriller was all the rage, I couldn't see why people made such a fuss of him. Then there were the accusations of child abuse. He was cleared by the courts, but that kind of stink never leaves, not really. From what I could see, the media and the public in general were pretty well sitting back with bated breath, desperate to see his next act of craziness.
Then he died. All of a sudden he's great again - back to the heady Thriller days when he could do no wrong and he was the best dancer, most talented musician, biggest genius ever produced - all over again.
Now, I'm all in favour of not speaking ill of the dead. And I think it's great that in death people tend to remember the good things and forget the bad. But I can't help feel that there's just the *tinyest* bit of hypocrisy here. Those same papers that happily ran that dreadful police-mug shot, and the images of him dangling his baby over the balcony, and all the stories about his infamous sleepovers, over and over and over again - now they're filled with countless and gushing tributes.
Whatever sells papers. But to me, it stinks.