Michael Jackson died a couple of days ago. We've all had saturation coverage.
Even here in England. Was he Bad or was he Mad, it went to court and he was declared innocent.
His work, his art, his dancing will be remembered for many a year. Over here in 48 hours he's sold 300,000 records/albums.
His body has had 2 inquests so we are told. Folks will fight over what remains of his money.
Will anybody have time to love his kids?
All these are questions that are all over the media, be it the quality end of the press or the supermarket magazine side of the press.
WHICH MAKES ME WONDER
Who will mourn when I die. Will my daughters cry, or will they moan that it has broke into their holidays. Will they say I should have prepaid for my own funeral. Will they hold my still warm body in their arms and let the damn burst with tears. Will they cry and laugh as they remember how I nagged them to always wear their slippers as they were forever getting colds when they were kids. Will they put on my voice and mannerisms as they remember and cry in equal measure at my loss. Will they laugh even more because i never learnt Chinese even though mum, my wife was a Shanghai girl. So my girls could trick me just by speaking Chinese to each other. Will my death make my Shanghai beauty suddenly grow old. Will she scream and shout and cry for days when I'm gone. Will my three girls put a watch on my wrist and a DAB radio in the coffin beside me. Will all this come to pass?
It will because I am blest with love, my girls love me though I am fat, Panzi is my Chinese nickname, it means "FAT FAT BOY", perhaps they'll even have in on my memorial stone as well as my name. ALL THIS WILL COME TO PASS BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN LOVED.
So sleep long, sleep deep Michael Jackson, I just hope you were loved as much as I am.
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