Worshipping Celebrity

Religious validations aside, John Lennon once claimed that The Beatles were bigger than Jesus. From the furor that followed, Lennon clarified his remark to mean that The Beatles were more well known that Jesus, a fact that few could argue given the fan frenzy worldwide. I watched the Michael Jackson replays last night, many in his own words. And I watched as the fans, distraught over the loss of their center of worship, were focused on the celebrity of Jackson, without reference to the scandals or suspicions, many of which he even admitted to. From sleeping in the same bed as boys, regardless of the manner, to the "Jesus Juice" that he admitted to. Despite the glaring surgeries, the chimp, the oxygen chamber, the costumes, the weddings and the dangling baby, just to name the few that pop into my mind, his fans glossed over to create an iconic loss in hyper-mythical proportions. And I realized that this was not about Jackson as much as it is about our collective insecurity, that need that must have someone to adore whether it be Jackson, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, or the myriad of pop flavors that adorn the airwaves and big screens. Worse still, not once did I hear anyone ask about the psychological soundness of those parents who consented to allow their children to sleep with Jackson, not just before the first accusation, but well past the second until he left the country.  Those parents are equally in need of help. For the sake of claiming that your child spent the night with Jackson? Are you serious? There is no doubt that Jackson had an odd childhood. In his interviews and songs he even said so. Work and no play, abuse by the father. Fame for most of his fifty years. How does one learn where the center of reality really is? Especially if your family is of no help and seem to be spiraling in their own oddness? And now, with allegations that Jackson was, like Elvis, a walking pharmacy, it falls also to those people around him who allowed that lifestyle to bear responsibility, especially those in his own family who knew and stayed silent.  But that is for their conscience to deal with. Who killed the "king of pop"? There is a Shakespearean tragedy there somewhere. In my post yesterday, I said it that it is sad to have success, fame and wealth and yet be miserable. I don't understand it. I have none of those things. Like most people I struggle to make ends meet and revel in the love of my family.  I consider myself infinitely richer than I suspect Michael Jackson ever was. So why do we latch onto these false heroes? Why do we elevate the crass and the mundane into superstardom? And why do we pursue them to their deaths, whether it be like Princess Diana, or those Hollywood icons that went out in a blaze of glory, like James Dean.  Just people. The lot of them. Same biology only trained to be arrogant, expecting of special treatment. I do know that nobility began with crusader kings that actually led their subjects into battle. There was admiration, even if the war was questionable. But why is Queen Elizabeth admired?  And in America, we loathe our politicians until they become something elevated by the office of The Presidency.  The critics still line up to shake those hands, don't they? In my book, Signs You May Be An Idiot I had one chapter on a national ailment I called ACD - American Celebrity Disease. You can DOWNLOAD IT HERE for FREE - as it seems fitting given the endless Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, David Carradine footage that has played out over the past month.  Ironically, in the end, the broke Michael Jackson who was counting on the upcoming concert to infuse some cash in his life, will become deified like Elvis. Neverland Ranch will have tours and album sales will soar. And just as Elvis pulls in an excess of $50 million a year even now, expect that Jackson will as well.  You see, even in death we just cannot let go of the obsession. Were we to do so we may just have to face our mortal roots. MisterWriter