Never can say goodbye...

Even on my days off, I tend to get up quite early. It is in these still dark and silent world moments, I have found it is often the best time to write...to express true thoughts. The day has not clouded my mind with tedious remembrances or forced me to realize I am getting another day older...that I have wasted another chance at being a better man.
But when I woke up this morning, something was off and I couldn't tell what it was...
Did I miss work? Did I say something to somebody I shouldn't have? Did I forget something?
That was it...I forgot...
I forgot a true legend of my generation died. For a moment, I lost track that a man who consumed so many people during my childhood, was no more.
I never thought I would be upset or near tears over the death of a celebrity (other than Ronald Reagan), but I find myself more bothered by his death today than only a few hours ago. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am heart stricken, but what I am feeling is something of a first cousin to it. But why? What did I really lose?
I am glad (very selfishly) to see my dear friend Beth feels the same way I do, and it is only because of her warm-hearted and endearing posts I feel free to write this. She may be the most honest person I have ever known...
My father told me that when Elvis died, he was in grief for weeks. He was truly torn-up by the loss. Elvis was someone he listened to growing up and it was like he had lost a friend...
Could it be the same with me? Was MJ my version of Elvis only I didn't realize it?
Maybe it is a "guy thing" or another stupid idea of the sort, but it seems almost silly to cry for him...why should I? I am not a child any longer and I should, by now, understand loss is something which happens. I didn't know him. I didn't go to single concert. And I wasn't a big collector of his albums (even back when they really were albums). Yet at the same time, I feel, for me to NOT shed some tears for MJ is dishonoring what he meant to me.
He, or rather his music, was there when I was down. He was someone I could turn to, like an ever faithful friend... He was able to express loss, love, and affection to or for someone when I didn't have the words...only emotion. Just watching the man dance was enough to make me smile...if even for a little bit.
I'd put on some of those big muffy headphones, holding them tight to my ears. I could practice my moonwalking in socks over a tile floor and vain myself into thinking I was getting pretty good at it. All the while he'd sing a private concert for as long as I wanted, chiming out the same song over and over, each time with just as much energy and strength in voice...never tiring...for me...until I had my fill. I would listen and feel better or braver, then put it away...able to come back to it when I chose. But when I did, maybe even months later, he would be there again...for me. Isn't that friendship? Loyalty?
I am quite sure it is.
So, today, I no longer grieve over the death of the King of Pop, rather my friend, Michael.
R.I.P.

Michael Jackson suffers no more...

Time to vent...



I am sad Michael Jackson died. I really am...but what I am more saddened by, is the soon to come and simple-minded, ever so shallow, comments about his personal life.

Without question, we all know he was strange...a bizarre personality...but aren't we all? What would the world think of us, if we had all the money in the world and could spend it on every desire? What would our homes look like and how big would they be if we could make them into our only place of solace and peace?
The guy built a Ferris Wheel in his back yard and had a petting zoo...so?
Hell, I'd probably have a wax museum and fish tank the size of the Red Sea if I could.

So the guy had a lot of surgery on his face...and?
He wanted to look a certain way and had the money to do it. We say nothing when a woman gets a chest full of saline bags so she feels better about herself. We don't mind it when Jabba the Hut gets Richard Simmons to help him out...
OUR desires and, more importantly, actions are governed and monitored by the money we have to spend not our self control...


I also tire, bore, with the endless and pathetic one-liners on his trial and.........DROPPED CHARGES and ACQUITTAL.

Oh, yeah, we almost forget he was found "not-guilty." Or do we? It is much more fun, much easier, to just think he was "toucher," isn't it?

What I love (not really) is the double standard many "Christians" have when it comes to Michael Jackson. What happened to the line some famous guy named Jesus...and pretty important, if I remember correctly....said? Wasn't the quote," Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's?"
Something tells me Jesus wasn't just talking about paying the extra 2 cents in tax on a bottle of Mountain Dew. It has a much deeper call that we often forget...
Michael Jackson faced Caesar (the State of California) and was found not to be guilty of the crimes....according to Jesus...that should be the end of it. If there is something else to answer for...I'm pretty sure God can handle the rest.
What happened to the Christian principle of "Love thy neighbor?"
Did Jesus add a footnote to that and I missed it in Sunday School? Did he say, "Love thy neighbor...unless it is Michael Jackson. Then you can bust on him all day long?"
Which virtue does stigmatizing falling into...I don't know if Paul was real clear on that?

Michael Jackson sought to change the world (how many of us have even thought of doing something so large?) and in many ways did. I am not saying he was altruistic, because I would never say such a thing. However, I do think he had a good heart....and a broken one.

The King should be remembered for his actions, deeds, and music...not what he didn't do, not what people want to believe he did.
I would hate to go through life, through history, being remembered for things I was only accused of...it is a wrong no one should have to face or bare...even in death.
R.I.P. MJ

This afternoon at Walmart...

I had the truest of joys in meeting Henry and Sandra today.
Henry was training Sandra on how to run the cash register...the "20 items or less, express lane"...and the only lane which sold cigarettes.
I am guessing one of two things (both may be true, honestly). Only people who don't know how to count use this lane...or...they only hire people who don't know how to count to work this lane.
So, after watching 4 people unload their carts full of animal dotted underwear and scented trash bin liners...and not buying any cigarettes... I stepped up to the counter.
I said, "A pack of Camel Filters, please."
Sandra stutter-stepped, as she realized she would have to move two feet from the safety of the register and go fetch my smokes.
Henry followed her, being the dutiful "customer service TRAINER."
She asked, looking at Henry, "What kind did you want, again? Camels?"
"Camel Filters." I said, talking to her back.
Okay, now I understand the whole world doesn't have the same great taste I do and may smoke something else, or even (gasp) not smoke at all...but still.
You would have thought these two were looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I watched them go past the Camels, maybe, six times before I had to help them out. Really, how hard was this treasure hunt?
"By your right hand. There they are." I was really quite nice with my tone.
Sandra moved to her left...
I sighed. Very quickly, I was no longer happy with her...it's those little things, you know?
"No, the other way. That is your right."
Sandra turned, scowling at me like I slapped her ass. But what was I supposed to say? She was moving the wrong way. If she kept going much further she would have been in the pharmacy.
I said nothing, only pointed to my cigarettes with my eyes, hinting the best course of action would be to turn back to hunt for my smokes.
In a very dry tone, I said, "They are the pack with the big camel on the front of them. It also has CAMEL written in blue."
Finally, after conferencing with Henry (not me) if those were indeed the right pack, she brought them back to the register.
As she scanned them, it beeped for my ID and I handed it over(want to make sure I am not some really mature 15 yr old, I guess).
This is where Henry and I no longer became friends.
He went on to explain to Sandy (I can call her that, can't I?) how important it was to check every person's ID. It didn't matter if they were 90 (yes, he said this). Even if it is your granny, check her ID every time (yes, he said this too).
Before I knew it, I said, "That's just absurd."
Henry was shocked, but before he could list statutes or codified Walmart policy...I put up my hand. Just give me my smokes.
The fat guy behind me wasn't speeding the process up, either. He kept reassuring Sandra (I like that better) how he was almost busted once too and how I may be part of some sting...hahaha...yeah, that's me alright...Officer John.
Here is the thing. Sandy will go by this as though God or, in her case, Joseph Smith wrote it as the 11th commandment.
I know she has to be careful to mind who she sells what to...but there has to be a limit. I understand, if little Timmy comes along with a Sharpie beard scribbled across his face, that is one thing. Or even the construction worker with some gray in his beard...I can live with that (sort of)...but, let's say Barbara Bush walked in...Henry would think he should card her...and, now, so does Sandra.
Do they get an "I card old ladies" sticker for their name tag?
What happened to common sense? Where did it go?
...certainly not to Walmart.