God stands at his conveyor belt. The unborn babies come down the belt one by one as God stands with his hypodermic needle injecting life into the babys’ butts. He knows he has to push the plunger each time only down to the red line, but even God gets tired of this routine, loses concentration and consequently sometimes his thumb slips and He mistakenly pushes the plunger all the way down past the red line. “Oops”, He says, “there’s another performer!” And he tosses that baby over into another bin.

Michael Jackson
Michael Jackson was one of these. In fact, you might say that with Michael you had the one where God’s thumb slipped the most. For about a decade he was arguably the most talented man on the planet and definitely the world’s greatest performer.
In my lifetime I would place Michael right up there in the top 5 with The Beatles, Judy Garland, Stevie Wonder and Frank Sinatra. We watched Thriller until many of us knew all the steps. We totally rocked out to Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough, I’m Bad, and Billie Jean, and my favorite will always be Man In The Mirror. That music stop into the big key change will ever be the epitome of great pop music. Michael was a great rocker, but the King Of Pop.
On top of it all he was a great innovative dancer, right up there with Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. It wasn’t just Thriller that thrilled. Every time I ever saw Michael dance, my jaw would drop at this wondrous human being. The rhythm that poured from his body and his music was way beyond the rest of us mere mortals.
I was a fan. I was in awe of his talent. I loved him for being a super human performer and then I came crashing down just like the rest of you as he went over some mad crazy edge in his life and lost his balance. I laughed at him and dissed him and pitied him and finally shook my head and walked away from him as he became more and more confused with his own identity.
He never really had a boyhood — he was always out there entertaining us – and so in his adulthood he turned to playing with boys, hanging out with them and God knows what else.
He was a consummate performer, always trying to make the song, the step, the move new, better, best and he often succeeded. So it was only natural that he try to remake himself and his look new, better, best. For a minute there, when he had his long hair and his glove and his white socks, he succeeded again. But he couldn’t stop tinkering and for some reason thought he might try to make his make-up permanent. He was great, but he wasn’t God, and he found that out the hard way – losing his nose in the process.
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