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I just can’t stop lovin’ you…

There are no words to adequately express the shock I felt upon seeing the confirmed news reports about Michael Jackson’s death. I literally had to sit down on the couch and catch my breath. I haven’t felt this dazed since I found out that I was actually going to receive my much needed liver transplant eleven years ago. That’s deep, right?


Be clear: Michael Jackson has been a friend in my head FOREVER. Since my certified tone deaf ass could screech a out, “A-B-C, easy as 1-2-3,” MJ and his music have been a part of my life. And trust, our friendship was hardcore.  

It spanned his rise to superstardom, the freak accidents, a complete ethnicity/race change and yes, even the recent controversial fall from grace.  Forreal, forreal, me and Mike been through it: He’d make me happy, he’d make me sad, he’d humble me, and then leave my jaded self in complete disbelief. 

And still, I jammed on.

So riddle me this- how does a man who’s musical genius changed the WORLD die of cardiac arrest at freakin’ 50?  

Not for nothing, people like MJ are supposed to either: A) live forever or B) die in some unexplainable event like an airplane disappearing over the Bermuda Triangle. NEVER, EVER the mundane heart attack. I mean, wasn’t that the point of the hyperbaric-oxygen-tank-thingy that he’s allegedly been sleeping in since the 80s? Sigh.  I can’t.  

Raise your glove in the air…
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