It was a year ago today that Michael Jackson died. I have quite a long history with the King of Pop.
Before his death I was in the editing process on my last book, which opens with a goofy description of the year 1988. I had put in a joke about Michael, which my editor asked me to remove. I said no, he said yes, I said no, he insisted, I cried, he laughed at me, and the joke was ultimately left out. It’s never been seen. Want to see it? Mmmmmm, okay, here it is: “1988, when Michael Jackson was no longer a black man, but not yet a white woman.”
Then last year when he died I blogged something (can’t remember what it was now) about him that was sort of funny and some guy left a comment basically threatening to kill me. (By the way, that kind of thing is why I don’t allow comments anymore. I barely have time to do a blog; I don’t have time to deal with jerky comments.) (And free speech isn’t that high of a value to me I guess.)
Anyway, one year later, if I could go back, would I make the funny comment again? Yup. In fact, if I could remember what it was, I’d put it here right now.