I'm late with this...but I looked it over and thought I would post anyway. In case you were wondering. Food is not good. Not at all. Anyway... read away!
70’s icon Farrah Fawcett died after a long and difficult battle with cancer.
Music icon Michael Jackson died after a long a difficult battle with life.
It’s sad isn’t it? Farrah had friends and family who loved her and watched her suffer. They are no doubt going through a very difficult time. She was a mom, a daughter, a best friend and a life partner. She was beautiful and talented and seemed to epitomize this one period of time. When you think back to the 70’s Charlie's Angels is one of the things that you remember. Charlie’s Angles, Saturday Night Fever, Disco, and the beginning of the fitness craze. Farrah Fawcett had that hair and that amazing smile, she also had atomic nipples… (Which I never noticed until she died and people kept pointing it out)
Michael Jackson. What can one say about Mike? Icon. Superstar. Musical genius. Weirdo. Recluse. Freak. Songwriter. Entertainer. Father. Brother. Son. Friend. I remember being enamored of MJ. I had buttons. I had posters. I had records and tapes. I thought he was amazing. Keeping in mind that I didn’t know MJ, I probably knew more about him than I should know. Like what? Like his birthday, his favorite candy, where he was born etc. I knew all these things about him, with out the benefit of the Internet. This means that I went to the Library and took about books about MJ. This means that I purchased magazines about MJ. I made knowing about him my job. Then of course, I grew up and found other things to obsess about. Boys that I could actually meet and have a chance with. Other musicians. My nails. My hair. Myself.
So yes, it is sad that Fawcett and Jackson are gone. And I feel badly, in the most general way. Like oh wow, that’s messed up. But this display of raw emotion is beyond me. The people who are sitting Shiva, the people who are in mourning over two celebrities that they have never met. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t get it. I don’t get it and I think it’s weird. I mean, why should I, go the Apollo theater and stand there. Holding vigil. What for? Why should I make special trip and go to Fawcett’s name on the Hollywood walk of fame and leave flowers by her name? What for? I’m sorry, did I know you? Where we friends? Did we have anything in common? No? Ok then… sorry that you are gone and God speed and all that, but I have laundry to do. Places to go. And my life to take care of. Does this make me terrible person? I feel a little guilty. Like maybe I should feel worse. This is actually something that I struggle with. Feeling badly, because I think that I should feel worse. (I’m catholic, I’m Haitian, and I’m a girl)
This crosses my mind everytime a celebrity dies. A celebrity. Not a relative. Not a world leader. Not a neighbor. Someone who entertained for a living. This is not to say that their life was not a worthwhile life. This is to point out that that sense of loss might be a little misplaced.
Should Ryan O’Neil be inconsolable? Yes. Why? He was her partner. They were together for 30 years. Of course his loss is beyond words.
Should the children of Michael Jackson be devastated? Of course. Why? Umm he was their DAD.
Should Pete Robertson (random guy I made up) of Brooklyn, NY who never met Mr. Jackson or Ms. Fawcett be weeping inconsolably? Ummm from my perspective? No.
But, who I am I to say what is appropriate or not in a case like this? Maybe I should be more understanding. Maybe I should be less Jugie McJugerson.
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