inappropriate

Michael Jackson is dead. There is no getting around this. Everyone is upset. MTV spent most of the day today playing MJ videos with a “crawl” on the bottom of the screen that announced his passing over and over. It is a sad day for the Jackson family, and for pop music fans of the 80s. I was one of these fans.

But his passing raises a few questions.

1) So what?  –ok, ok, I should clarify. How about this: for the last ten to twelve years, Michael Jackson has only been relevant as a defendant in criminal and civil court, jokes by second rate comedians (and Dave Chappelle), and the only reason Finesse Williams was on Saturday Night Live for a few years. (Who is Finesse Williams, you ask? Exactly). But everything I am seeing on television is a retrospective on how great he was. What about the kids? What about his weirdness? What about the Elephant Man’s bones, for crissakes? I’m just sayin’, even if you take away the whole, you know, “touching pre-teens” thing, you still have a weird dude.

This is less a knock on MJ himself as it is on the ways in which the media tends to glorify people in death. I understand that no one wants to speak ill of the dead, but come on. I was in my early twenties the last time the guy was in the MTV studios (and that was a long time ago). He has had multiple cosmetic surgeries that made him look not-so-human. He kissed Lisa Marie Presley on television (you can decide which of the last two is grosser). Geez, the guy sang a song about loving a hamster when he was a teenager! He was a talented guy, but he was a weird guy. Acknowledge it. Do not make him into a God when you were just as guilty as everyone else in telling the famous joke about him shopping at Kmart because there was a sale and little boys pants were half off.

Which brings me to my most important question:

2) when can the inappropriate jokes start? I must admit, I am hoping this comes sooner rather than later. Will it take a week before I can safely suggest that they found cotton candy, Children’s Tylenol, and a lost seven-year-old during his autopsy? (still too soon? Sorry.) Or what about his nose getting pulled off when the paramedics tried CPR? Truly, the possibilities are endless here–  and I’m not even that funny.

It is tragic that we have lost one of the best entertainers in the history of the world. He was a really talented guy. We will not be sad for long, though, because in his death, we are now able to focus less on the man, and more on the myth.

This is how history works: you tell the best story you can in order to get people to remember the past in a way that is not only easy to remember, but paints an unproblematic past that positions us for a better future. This is storytelling; narrative. It is easy to remember, and ultimately it is convincing. It also makes all of us out to be better than we are. This is by design. History is not about telling about what happened in the past, it is about narrating a story that often makes all of us feel better about who we are, and to make other people believe it, too.* Michael Jackson was a talented entertainer. He also was a weird man with a dark side (not his face, clearly) that people preferred to either ignore or deride while he was alive.  He is a legend in popular music who chose to buy the bones of the Elephant Man. And build his own amusement park. And openly admit to not wanting to grow up. And hold his newborn baby over a balcony. And wear masks. And get plastic surgery. And sing songs that people the world-over loved and sang out loud. Oh, and allegedly(?) sexually abuse children.

We can afford to have one less hero in Michael Jackson; it makes his life and his art that much more important. It also makes him a real person, with real flaws. In the end, I think that kind of humanity gives people more hope than nostalgia and hagiography does.

*And it works both ways in the field of history. Sure, I believe that counter-narratives are good– such as the social history and cultural history movement in the field of history– but they run the same risk of trying to tell a story that, while attempting to destroy a popular narrative (meaning one that is selective about the gender, race, and class position of the protagonists [see: white male]), is designed to produce the same effect as the original narrative. And by assuming the same narrative devices as those who produced the “master-narrative”, you end up trying to tell the same story with different actors, while the reality is often much more complex than simple (or even nuanced) narrative will allow. Most historians, with the exception of Hayden White, accept this. A few are even honest about it. Anyway.

~ by dystopic on June 26, 2009.