I did the unseemly thing last night. I watched Dateline on NBC replay the Martin Bashir interview with Michael Jackson.
Just so you know, Martin Bashir is the ink-stained wretch who did the interview the Diana Princess of Wales just about a year before her death. He works for Granada TV in the UK and is essentially, the heir to the Sir David Frost legacy of solid, investigative, journalistic interviews. He’s good and he’s honest and he’s truthful. Martin Bashir’s credentials are solid.
Mr. Jackson, on the other gloved hand, is a celebrity, self-proclaimed King of Pop, Protector of Children, and Role Model for The World.
It was fun watching someone commit career suicide for two hours. It wasn’t Martin Bashir who fell on his sword. Jacko basically shot himself in prime time, then bled all over the place. The usual celebrity fibs were in place and that is an accepted practice today that we will let slide.
The real dangerous part of the whole show was that Jacko let his mouth run. He came across, to my opinion, as an unwell person. In his defense, he’s been a ‘celebrity’ since he was about six years old, had some less than ideal family experiences and lives in a celebrity/fame/fortune bubble of security, PR and fears that we can’t always know or understand.
But Holy Mother of Pearl, if he was anyone other than Jacko, he’d be under what is called, a Lieutenant Governor’s Warrant: Meaning locked up in the Penatanguishine Psychiatric Hospital “until the pleasure of the Lieutenant Governor is known” Essentially, forever, as an incurable mental patient, dangerous to society.
Face aside (and I am willing to cut him some slack with the pigment stuff and the broken nose that was repaired) his words and ideas are those of someone who has lost touch with reality and has enough money to do whatever the hell he wants. This wealth gives him the label of ‘eccentric’.
If you or I devoted out lives to creating an amusement park in the back yard, having sleepovers with children and talking about the innocence of children being the basis for World Peace, then the label we would get is ‘insane’.
All that was really missing was Jacko admitting that there is a special radio station telling him to Love Children For World Peace and Elvis saying he’s glad Jacko ‘ain’t shankin’ his lil’ girl no more’.
Had Jacko admitted to the Special Radio Station, then the powers that be would be almost certainly required to come by with the big net and the happy truck. But, wisely, he stayed just this side of the line thanks to the layers of hangers-on, legal eagles and image stylists who drink from the same water fountain as Jacko.
Will Jacko ever do another “Thriller” or “Bad”? Probably not, he’s seeing the effects of time on his talents and moves. Which is sad, as both the aforementioned albums were very good, but the knees give out and the pipes give up over time, even with the best of the best.
RoadDave 