People who cry when celebrities die.
You might be able to sing their songs
You might have watched their films all along
You may even know the middle names of their adopted kin
But when they’ve gone from being to been
Keep in mind
You didn’t actually know them.
Just a taste, that is, of my Pop/Country breakthrough, destined to inspire auralgasms across the globe. Of course, as with any delicious social commentary, there will be dissenters. “Horrifically insensitive! He’s a human being! And a music legend, no less. How dare you attempt Billboard success at the expense of your dearly departed ilk.”
But they’ll be missing the point, those bleeding hearts. I may have no boundaries, but I’m not without a soul, a rapacious capitalist. In fact, Michael Jackson’s death just happens to be the catalyst. My acerbic critique has nothing to do with the Gloved One’s character (which is not without suspect) and everything to do with the torrent of displaced emotion celebrity tragedies often illicit.
I may not identify, but I’m not questioning the authenticity of the grief plaguing those mourners crawling over his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, unleashing a torrent of tears. But what I want to know is where were those sorrow sponges when Prop 8 was passed and again when it was upheld? If they can set aside their differences to gather together, pay tribute, and harmonize on his Number Ones, why haven’t they been flooding the streets in a gesture of support for the Iranian people? We broke free of England, braved the rough seas of the Atlantic, saturated that same body of water with tea, showered the Redcoats with musket balls, and that’s just the tiniest tip of our country’s birth, hundreds of years before we fought for the array of civil rights even my generation has taken for granted. Ah, yes. There it is. Apathy. It’s not as pandemic as obesity or the Swine Flu, sorry, H1N1; but it has definitely become synonymous with “American.”
Note the past tense, though. “Has” taken, “has” become. Thanks in large part to the efforts of Moveon.org, Obama secured the greatest turn out of young voters in generations. Many of those heartsick for MJ may have held aloft picket signs and poster board alongside the hordes of protesters, nationwide, outraged by Prop 8. And now with the proliferation of Twitter we can rise up instantly, virtually as well as rally a physical congregation.
It’s doubtful the superficial vein pulsing through our culture will be drained anytime soon, but there is hope that us Young Things, pretty or not, are realizing the power of our combined voice. Whether it be for bewildering lament or social change, we will be heard.
