‘The’ king of pop died, and, world media tells me, over 18,000 turned up at his memorial service (Ronaldo was being received at Real by over 80,000 around the same time, so well…) and millions watched by television. I was not among them. Not just because I didn’t have a telly anywhere near me, because if I did my eyes would be glued to the Spanish side of things or maybe Wimbledon re-runs.
MJ. I had a brief fling with one of his jams in December of 2001. That was it, until my becoming a dancer necessitated my hearing a bit about the moonwalk, and my bro excellently nailed an MJ imitation for a play. That was as far as my relationship with this pop idol went.
Pop, by the way, is truncated from popular, something I’m not sure MJ was very much in his later days. His influence on popular music culture is obviously undeniable, even to the uninitiated like me. I suppose that’s what the pop meant. I also think there’s the other side: I once watched a documentary showing a grand military-like unveiling of an MJ statue, and thousands of people ‘worshiping’ it – it was a very disturbing image, the kind that the 'it’s just music' generation of believers would want kept tightly under wraps.
Anyway, this is obviously not one more memorial to the king of pop (forgive me), so let me pick up from the end of the prayer at his memorial – even the king of pop, the minister boomed, has to bow to the King of kings. I wonder how that went – his meeting with the King of kings I mean. I wonder, as I've heard mentioned elsewhere, whether he was greeted by an equally enthusiastic crowd of celestial beings on the other side as he was waved off by men and women on this side.
I wonder only because I do not know whether some miracle happened as MJ was on his deathbed that caused him to accept Christ. But if he didn’t, as is most likely in my mind, then he went into eternal damnation. Never mind that he invented the moon walk. Never mind that there will never be another like him. Never mind that he’s probably one of the most talented and gifted musicians that ever lived. Without Christ, all that there is to his life now is hell – the real one, not the one he went through at the hands of the media and critics.
Men are consumed with immortality – it’s almost a curse. We wax lyrical about people who’ve died and find every little way to carry their names through the winds of the present long after they’re gone. And that’s all good. But you know what? That celebration of life is only meaningful if they’re on the other side celebrating it as well. Otherwise, it’s sad, but it’s all vanity. With all due respect.
We’re all going to live forever. As to where, I guess that’s everyone’s choice. Heaven is real. And so is hell. I’m working hard to end up in heaven, and hopefully convince everyone I know to do the same.
