Michael Jackson Eases on Down the Road

It's a surprise ending to a brief, sad life dogged by controversy. Assuming it's not a publicity stunt (update: it looks as though it isn't).

I liked Jackson's earlier work--up until Thriller. My sister went a long way towards killing any affection I might have had for him by overplaying the album (just as she did with any music she enjoyed. My loathing of Abba remains unabated).

Mr Jackson did the rest. With his increasingly bizarre behaviour, unfortunate inability to form normal human relationships, and continued devotion to plastic surgery that would make a hard-core body-mod nut wince.

But I always did feel sorry for him. So many people with talent seemed doomed for greatness and madness. And he was both personified. Above all, I'm not sure he ever realized that he was transient.

So long Michael. Peace at last, perhaps (As long as no-one tries to buy his skeleton).

Farrah Fawcett has also died today. I don't have much to say about her. Unlike many modern stars, she seems to have managed to live a largely blameless life without attracting undue attention (the Majors divorce aside), for a TV star.

But a small piece of my childhood goes with her. I watched "Charlie's Angels" before I even understood why I liked girls--Possibly before I was even ready to admit that I liked them.

My thanks, Farrah.