Death of an Easter Egg
As you probably know, Michael Jackson passed away recently. This has been a great shock for all of us. Well, a lot of us, anyway.
When you think about it, that is slighly peculiar. The death has slapped even my generation, grown in the 90s, living in the 00s, hard in the face. This is not because we greatly admired the man. This is not because we love the music he made. Even though my generation also knows that he created great music, his days as king are not something we remember or can relate to — he had a much greater value: he had become a kind of constant. His superhuman appearance, like a conservational shell, and constantly in the news in some dodgy way. His days as “King of Pop” long gone, he still remained as a kind of media ghost. And since Harry Potter, we all know that ghosts can't die.
To most of us, Michael Jackson was a kind of odd fact of life in the universe. An ever-resting quirk, an easter egg in the great game of life. That someone like that could die is just overwhelming.
Requiescat in pace