On Michael Jackson's death

I guess I'm even more out of the loop than I'd thought. The amount of coverage of Michael Jackson's death (e.g. on CNN and MSNBC) baffles me. It seems to have almost totally replaced reporting on the Iran crisis, the Baghdad bombings, the deaths in Afghanistan and Pakistan and just about everything else going on in the world.

I've never doubted that Michael Jackson had incredible talent, going all the way back to the Ed Sullivan days. And I know he's done a ton of good, such as with his Aid To Africa effort ("We Are The World.") But my strongest emotion over the years and since learning of his death has been one of feeling deeply sorry for him.

When I think about his life offstage, I mostly see grimness. A horribly abusive father who persecuted and beat him. Since age 26, at least 10 cosmetic surgeries on his nose, chin and eyes. (Reportedly his father used to call him "big nose.") Years of addiction to prescription medicines like morphine, OxyContin, Demerol and tranquilizers. (When Jackson asked his friend Dr. Deepak Chopra to write him an OxyContin prescription, he refused; Chopra calls the doctors who supply drugs to the stars "legalized pushers.") Years of very bizarre behavior, like masking his children, and the Berlin incident where he dangled his youngest over the edge of a hotel balcony. His marriages. Then there are the two child abuse mysteries. (Was Jackson a sex abuser or just a clueless middle-aged kid?) Endless grimness.

The immense reaction to Jackson's death--from Los Angeles to Mexico to Peru to London to Paris to India to Pakistan--has amazed me. I'm surely out of the global loop that apparently includes millions, maybe tens of millions. And at 71, I may be farther than ever from understanding my own human race.