Michael Jackson has, as most everyone knows, died at the age of 50. I’ve been trying to come up with some pithy way of summing it up for Facebook and Twitter. Is this what has become of my love of writing? Nevertheless, I failed. Thus, my dusty blog.
I really have no opinion on him either way. He has some catchy tunes, and you can’t deny his influence on pop music, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan.
Really, stuff like this just makes me think about mortality and here today, gone tomorrow. He’s been such an institution in the media and in entertainment, for better or for worse, so knowing that he’s gone is unsettling somehow.
Now, back to my NCIS marathon. Two days in a row, USA! You must really love me.