Paint a vulgar picture

At the record company meeting, on their hands - a dead star.
And oh, the plans they weave.  And oh, the sickening greed...
Re-issue! Re-package! Re-package! Re-evaluate the songs!
Double-pack with a photograph, extra track (and a tacky badge).
- The Smiths


Here we are, June 25, 2010.  One year from the day Michael Jackson died.  All day long, I have the above-referenced Smiths song playing over and over again in my head.

At the one year mark after his death, Disney is playing, or planning on playing, his Captain EO movie at all the Disney properties for a "limited time engagement" (read: for as long as Disney can milk nostalgic Michael Jackson fans into buying park tickets).  His documentary movie "This Is It" grossed over $260 in ticket sales worldwide, not even including video sales.  He sold over 31 million albums worldwide whilst taking his dirt nap.  All this for a man who, one year prior to his death, was struggling to keep his ranch from foreclosure and was considering selling off all his crap at auction.

It seems that death has been good for Mr. Jackson.  It seems that death has been good for everyone who stands to earn a buck off Mr. Jackson.  At least he doesn't have to deal with molestation accusations anymore.

Now, before you email me and tell me how crass and insensitive I am, let me just remind you of something.  This was a man who was social leprosy before his death.  Sure is interesting to watch, but don't get too close.  You would watch with bated breath as he went through his criminal trials and comment about "oh, how weird he is" and "is he really showing up in court in his PJs?".  You'd comment with self righteousness about the media circus surrounding him whilst purchasing a front-row ticket.  There's a reason there was so much media attention surrounding him.  Media gives the people what they want.  You're the same people who complain about traffic while watching the accident on the other side of the freeway.

(The argument can be made that the media dictates what you want.  That's true to a certain extent, but at the same time the media knows what sells.  Sure, they may post a front page article about Michael Jackson on msn.com, but if nobody clicks on that story, there won't be a follow-up the next day.)

Now that he's dead, you can't get enough of him.  He was the best selling artist in 2009 and I guarantee you most of those record sales weren't before June 25, 2009.  "This Is It" would have grossed $450.75 in ticket sales had he not died (actually, this is a drastic exaggeration.  I added .75 for comedic impact).

It's not your fault though.  It's the media.  Let's blame them for gorging yourself on all the latest Michael Jackson stuff.  While we're at it, let's blame our parents for all our social ineptitude.  Or, even better, let's blame Michael Jackson.  He won't mind.

My point being (and let's face it, I have to make up some sort of point to this sorry rant), I think everyone is to blame.  The media for exploiting someone's death to a vulgar degree and the consumer public who's eating it up hand over fist.

Now, if you REALLY wanna bake your noodle, ask yourself "would Michael Jackson have died had you given him all this money and admiration before June 25, 2009".

Maybe its just my sub-conscience telling me I need to crack open my CD case and play it again.  Before Morrissey dies and I become a hypocrite.

Dogs

About 6 months ago, my wife and I got a dog.  As you can see, its cute and fluffy.  In fact, 90% of its body weight is fluff.  In case of a water landing, I can use the dog as a flotation device.

There's one thing about this dog, however.  I believe its only redeeming factor is the cuteness.

In fact, I think I have an ungrateful dog.

Case in point.  Every morning at 7:00 a.m. I wake up and take the dog out for a walk.  When I come for the dog, it gives me the hardest time getting out of its little bed cage and fights me the whole way out.  However, if my wife comes to the cage, it bounces out and wags its tail as if there was no tomorrow.

Additionally, if I'm the first to come home from work, it condescends to spend time with me by virtue of the fact that I'm marginally more interesting than the lint lying on the floor (although there are times when I see the dog seriously considering that option).  We'll be playing 'chase the ball' and having a grand time, but the moment she hears the garage open up, I might as well be Typhoid Mary.

Its not due to any abuse on my part either.  I show it love, feed it treats and rarely ever raise my voice to it.  Heck, the dog hates wearing sweaters and I never subject it to such (that's my wife's doing).

I'm just going to have to live with the fact that my dog looks at me as if I'm the 3rd wheel in her relationship with my wife.

There's another thing about this dog.  It poops like nobody's business.

I have mentioned the dog's rather large amount of fur.  Well, that fur is everywhere.  Especially around its butt.  For the record, fur and poop don't mix.  As a result, every time it poops, I have to clean its butt.

I cannot begin to describe how degrading it is to wipe the butt of an ungrateful dog.  Therefore, I won't.  I'll just leave it up to your imagination.

Simply getting the dog is an epic story in itself.  I'll relate it in another post.

--


Note to parents:  If by any chance your child wants a dog, make him (or her...just insert the appropriate gender wherever applicable) stop whatever he's doing twice a day (sometimes 3 times, just to mix it up) and take a walk around the neighborhood. Make sure he does this for at least a month, maybe two.

Then, when the time period is over, if your kid is still keen on having a dog, tell him he'll need to do the same thing for the next 15 years, except each walk involves picking up poop.

If he's still committed to having a dog after that and says he'll do the aforementioned walking/poop scooping, make him sign a contract.  I offer notary services.