On Saturday morning, I said to my Patient Husband, “If Michael Jackson faked his own death, that would be the ultimate publicity stunt.”
We’d been talking about how he’d been perfectly positioned in the early 1980s to become a mega-star, with the combination of talent, name recognition, a skill-set that matched the expectations of the era, and a sense of flair, plus the publicity machine from his previous endeavors.
I said that if Jackson wanted to make a clean break from his former life, this would be the way to do it: fake his own death, have plastic surgery again to change his appearance, and vanish to reappear under a new name as a corn farmer or a guy running a shoe repair shop somewhere in small town middle America.
My Patient Husband and I said it would be only a matter of time before someone called it a hoax like JFK’s death, so off I went to google, and sure enough I found a website.
I’m not saying I believe it’s a hoax. In fact, I don’t. MJ and pushed his body enough that an early end isn’t entirely unexpected; there were emotional issues and lifestyle issues that also could have contributed. Plus, he always seemed to take his stardom seriously, so losing the spotlight fifteen years ago must have been a blow.
I’ve seen statistics about how most young men who die of cardiac issues die from a first-time event (probably because doctors aren’t looking for cardiac issues) although I don’t have any on hand right now. In other words, while tragic and not something I would have predicted, it makes sense.
Why? Because they made a connection between Jackson and his emotional mentor, Elvis Presley. Who also died young of cardiac issues.
I said that to my Patient Husband, and his eyes got big. Because it made sense.
But let me tell you something that makes more sense: Jackson would have been aware of the cause of Presley’s death. It was in the back of his mind. And like many people who find an emotional mentor or a role model, he was charting his course after that person. I’ve read books about motherless daughters and fatherless sons, and both say the same thing: that a child who loses a parent at a young age subconsciously expects to die the same way and at the same age as the parent.
For someone whose imagination was power, and whose drive was the art of the show, that unconscious loyalty to his mentor might have been too much to bear. Someone who had trained and tamed his body for performance and through extensive surgery might have had that mind-body connection to unconsciously imitate in death the man he’d wanted to imitate in life.
Did he fake his own death? I doubt it. Did he plan it? Not consciously. But maybe in the heart, maybe there.
I think I saw him eating breakfast at Denny’s in Cincinnatti today.
Denny’s is a very popular place for the superstar who fakes his own death.
That’s unsettling. Elvis is probably waiting at the 7-11 and wondering where Michael is.
Maybe he can ask John F Kennedy over at the McDonalds?
Whoa. Interesting thoughts. I knew it wouldn’t take long for the conspiracies to start flying! 😛
I think the Iranians assassinated Michael Jackson to get their troubles off the cable news channels.
That’s not funny. Iran was the #1 trending topic on Twitter before Friday, and after MJ died, it dropped to #3 behind Michael Jackson and the Transformers movie.
Well, that’s just disgusting.
I never did get around to learning how to moonwalk.
Since Michael went to be with Elvis Australian television has turned into Neverland. I never want to watch it again.
But I was impressed. Not only did he fake his own death, but two autopsies as well. So kewl!
Ah, but you see, the autopsies were on Michael’s clone, which he’d been keeping in the basement all these years.
Or something. **eyeroll**
Fully half the songs on the radio Friday were MJ songs. I didn’t listen to the radio over the weekend.
Sadly, the death of MJ overshadowed the reports that Jeff Goldbum had fallen off a mountain in New Zealand and was himself dead. That must be true. It was on the Internet!
I read a handwriting analysis of some of his writings, after “the apology letter”. Scary stuff. Total disconnect between public and private lives. Two different personalities, neither one complete.