I don’t care that Michael Jackson died. That is, I care no more than I would care if anyone else died. I empathize with his family and friends, of course. They suffered a loss. His fan base, however, have lost no more than they ever had. I have already heard the first of the tear-filled phone calls into the television “news” shows. I will no doubt read a number of pained eulogies from his fans on various bulletin boards and social sites. I cannot understand an emotional attachment to a stranger so strong that one would cry upon their death.
When Lady Di died, you saw a similar thing. When Elvis died you saw it. You saw it when John Lennon was murdered, and you’ve seen footage of people’s reactions to Kennedy’s assassination. People CRIED. People sniffled and showed overt displays of an emotional loss. When Andy Kauffman died, a coworker was miffed when he approached me with pictures of “Andy” and I didn’t join in in the sadness.
I am a fan of some people too, naturally. I would typefy meself as a fan of Cam Neely, Jimmy Page, Denzell Washington, etc. A few actors, musicians, authors, and what have you. But I have had a number of these people die without me feeling anything other than a small sense of personal regret in that I would be getting no more of whatever it was I got from them.
Is that it? Is that why people around me cry when one of their heroes, idols, or whatever they are dies? They are crying over a loss of whatever it was they were getting? But what on Earth were they getting that warrants such a strong emotion? If Jimmy Page were to die, I’d still have “The Song Remains the Same.” If Cam Neely dies, I’d still regard him as the greatest hockey player ever. I’d feel bad for their family and friends, but for myself it’d be a mild and easily forgotten sense of regret.
This “famdom” thing is bizarre anyway. Jackson, for instance, has done little more than act like a complete nutjob the last two decades. He was a freak show in a business of freak exhibitions. Why the tears? My own favourites, using Jimmy Page as an example, dragged a 13-year-old girl on tours with him as the “tour photographer,” and took so many drugs that he has done shows sitting down. How do people “idolize” these complete strangers?
Screw it. Again, Jackson’s family and friends have my sympathy, but his weeping fans need to regain their grasp on reality. Who in the Hell do they think he was? Do they imagine he cared one iota about them? Do they imagine that they were anything more than a market to be penetrated? Do they imagine that he gave them anything more than the next popular recording artist?
Like his music if you do. Regret the loss of more music from him. But dry up the freaking tears, you nutjobs.
