michael jackson

So the most I know of Michael Jackson is the misery that was a synchronized swimming routine back in the November of 9th grade.
Yes, there were white gloves involved.
It was a cool routine, but it's hard to swim with a sparkly bow tie laced frighteningly tight around your neck (because in synchro, it is better for you to die than to lose your costume) and one white glove. Every time I hear Michael Jackson, I feel that scratchy bow tie around my neck.
Other than that, I know very little. I do remember thinking he was a woman until a few years ago [all I had seen were pictures. Can you blame me?].
But still, it was weird when he died. It's sort of like when Steve Irwin died. You never think of the Crocodile Hunter as a human who COULD die. He's more of a character, like Superman or something. They don't die. And when they do, it's just so they can come back dramatically from some other dimension, toting alien superpowers and their long-lost mother or something. Steve Irwin, taken down by a stingray? How ironic. He's not supposed to die.
And Mr. Rogers. He couldn't die either. Who would feed his fish? But he did anyway.
Michael Jackson wasn't exactly human to me, more of an icon of pop and scratchy bow ties.
R.I.P. And for pete's sakes, don't you dare come swirling back from another dimension. So overdone.