Mourning Michael Jackson

GUEST WRITER- Mallory Ortberg, Menlo Park, CA

Well, it’s happened. Michael Jackson has joined the ranks of deceased African American entertainers destined to spend eternity silk-screened on a million XXL T-shirts worn by a million obese high-schoolers, completing the black musical trinity established by Bob Marley and Tupac.

In the wake of Michael Jackson’s demise, America seems to have adopted the general posture assumed by Dave Chappelle, who, when asked about the entertainer’s dubious legacy, responded with, “The man wrote ‘Thriller.’ ‘Thriller.’” Whatever idiot hipster* said “The evil men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones” clearly never listened to Off the Wall.

There’s something going on here, and it’s more than the usual frenzy of relic-purchasing and hagiography-burnishing that surrounds the surprise death of any celebrity. Cast your mind back to, like, two weeks ago. Zac Efron was more culturally relevant than Michael Jackson, and in no way is that sentence ironic. People are already trying to retroactively reengineer Michael as the last vestige of monolithic pop culture, the Johnny Carson of fey man-boys. Don’t let them, guys!

Remember how no one outside of Texas knew who Selena was before a pre-famous Jennifer Lopez played her? Remember how you don’t actually know what she looked like when she was alive and not being played by Jennifer Lopez? Exactly. Remember back in June, when you thought about Michael Jackson pretty much never? Exactly. The only thing more tired than Michael Jackson at that point were jokes about Michael Jackson’s personal appearance and alleged sexual proclivities. Even making fun of the man was boring and outdated.

So, instead of ordering that commemorative issue of Time magazine about icons, why don’t you go rent High School Musical instead? Support the real heroes.

* Zooey Deschanel, I’m pretty sure.