I certainly have been neglectful in writing for fun, haven’t I? It’s certainly not due to being too busy with work, but that’s a rant for another day.
I’m still crime/trial watching, but not as much as I would like, because my daughter thinks I am a doddering nutcase when I do so. However, how can anyone who grew up in the 1970s miss what is going on with the manslaughter trial of Conrad Murray, the physician who was Michael Jackson’s “personal physician,” a man about to be convicted of involuntary manslaughter for gross negligence in Jackson’s death in June 2009.
To me it’s a cut-and-dried case, and I won’t write about that in more depth at this time. What I will write about is how the crazies come out whenever Jackson is mentioned.
My friend Betsy, who not only enjoys reading and writing about crime, lives close enough to the courthouse in Los Angeles to attend trials that pique her interest. She’s worked very hard to be a professional when writing about crimes, and because of her professionalism in blogging about other trials (most noteworthy most of Spector I and every day of Spector II), has earned the respect of the courthouse’s public information officer, and is now considered a member of the media—and that’s a big deal.
Last month she braved LA County public transit and attended the aforementioned Dr. Murray, knowing she would likely “watch” the proceedings from a media overflow room. Working against uncomfortable chairs, less-then-perfect visuals and challenging audio, she took notes during prosecution witness testimony, and posted to her website, Trials and Tribulations.
That’s when the lunatics came out in force. Said lunatics are fans of Michael Jackson who honestly believe a saint was murdered and that Jackson was the victim of a widespread plot.
Hey kooks, here’s the truth: your hero, who was most likely a child molester at worst, someone who no doubt crossed the line with inappropriate behavior with children, a man who bought his three children, a man who hated himself so much he endured who-knows-how-many plastic surgeries, died because he wanted to dictate his own medical care. After he found a doctor who would do what he wanted, he hired the man, a cardiologist by trade, Jackson told the doctor what he wanted and got it. Jackson could have, should have, bought the very best multidisciplinary health care for himself—sleep specialists, pain control specialists, addiction specialists—any of which could have made a difference and helped him sleep at night.
Jackson made a poor choice of doctors. He did not need a cardiologist—he needed sleep. And being knocked out with whatever general anesthesia agent one desires is not a treatment for insomnia. Period. Plain and simple, Jackson must have liked the feeling of being woozy—isn’t that what addicts do? I watch enough Intervention to see common threads, regardless of what the chemical of abuse is, addicts love the effects, be it feeling down and drooly or wired and paranoid. So what if narcotics were not found in Jackson’s blood after his death—there are plenty of ways to get that floaty feeling, and benzodiazepines fit the bill nicely. I am sure that Jackson’s postmortem hair sample is chock full of interesting information.
It’s been quite amusing reading some of the comments Betsy’s gotten from readers from all over the world. Some are pretty rational, but many are rants about how she should make the district attorney’s office charge Murray with first-degree murder and give him the death penalty immediately. Others are certain Murray is a scapegoat for a larger conspiracy, that AEG wanted Jackson dead and because AEG does business in LA County, the DA’s office won’t really properly investigate and find the masterminds of this “horrific” crime.
Recall that Jackson’s child molestation trial was heavily populated by fans that dressed like Jackson, wore t-shirts with Jackson’s image, and waited outside just to have a glimpse of their hero. There is no doubt that Murray’s trial will bring out the same kind of kooks.
So I guess this is my rhetorical question for today: what is so lacking in those people’s lives to defend a very flawed human being years after his death? Whenever anyone says or writes anything they believe is unflattering to Jackson, they become unhinged and accuse the writer of bias, prejudice, being a “hater,” jealous of Michael’s God-given talent—on and on. What makes a person be a fan of something to the point of blindness? I truly loved the Beatles, but I understood from a young age each was an individual, each flawed, and perhaps John, Paul and George worthy of my admiration for their musicianship and ability to write memorable music.
I don’t immerse myself in all things Beatles. I don’t spend money on memorabilia. I have a hard time understanding how anyone could worship anything or anyone like Jackson fans worship him? Why waste so much effort on someone who simply made music? And why make other people miserable with rantings, ravings and unkindnesses—especially toward those who do not fall in line with their thinking?
I’ll be researching and writing an article for T & T about the psychology of conspiracy theories. Perhaps I should also research why some people become so fanatical about someone (usually a celebrity), to the point of being blind and oblivious about that person’s faults. There is only one perfect thing in our universe, and we’d be better served being fanatical about Him.
P.S. Can you tell I am not a fan of Michael Jackson? Never was, never will be.
