By now you've all heard the tragic news of Michael Jackson's death. Michael Jackson's passing is sad, but not as sad as the last 20 years of his life. There are things worse than death, like, I don't know, being a pedophile (allegedly). Don't get me wrong, I loved Michael Jackson before he became a cartoon character. I listened to my Thriller tape so many times it warped so I had to buy another one. I was watching when he debuted the moon walk and I never did figure out how to do it despite my many, many attempts. He was so talented, but so strange. And at some point I just had to split them into two seperate people: Cool Michael and Ass Crazy Michael. I will forever miss Cool Michael, but I've been missing him since 1990.
But the real tradgedy is that Farrah Fawcett suffered with cancer of the butthole (seriously) for so long and the day she finally succumbs, Michael Jackson drops dead out of the blue! Poor Farrah. Every newspaper has MJ on the front page and a little corner where they say, "Oh, and that hot chick from the 1970s finally kicked the bucket."
And Ed McMahon? Forget about it. Everyone else already has.