Now I will blog--write something less ephemeral than clever, vaporous instant messages to Facebook friends...and nasty "FU"s to those preposterous, bold strangers on AIM who want me to imagine their misspelled genitals.
In this premiere post, I focus on royalty, specifically on the recent reported death of the King of Pop. I have not seen Michael Jackson's corpse, but I do not believe that he is faking it to promote the new tour.
So last night I futilely attempted to post a curt, relevant remark about him on Twitter. A naughty little rumor that yours truly invented. But the inundated site had collapsed under the weight of global mourning. Michael's death diverted attention even from a horny wayward southern governor's Argentine hiking trip and a possibly apocryphal Iranian Revolution.
I am relieved my comment didn't go public. The attempted tweet was decidedly tacky on first glance and would have required too much explanation to deflect animosity. So I bravely launch it today on my virtually virginal, unfollowed blog, without controversy and likely void of any comment.
"I heard a rumor that Michael Jackson, babysitting some young boys, choked to death on a ham sandwich while sitting on the toilet."
We boomers misremember how Elvis died of constipation. And I easily memorized Newsweek Magazine's succinct and inaccurate obit to Mama Cass Elliott, "gargantuan canary, choked to death on a ham sandwich."
My testy attempted tweet was just an abbreviated homage to our home-overgrown hedonism and addictions to sex, drugs, mega-celebrity, and ham sandwiches.
Michael, God bless him, is gone. And Life already goes on.
North Korea wants to desimate Hawaii next month. The price of summer vacation gasoline climbs daily. California still cannot pay her bills. And something may be happening in Iran.
Let's let Michael rest in peace....soon please.
Here is the critically-applauded music video of Michael's purported favorite song "Childhood," a tribute to the man's life and art. Beautiful, biographical, tragic.