You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘dies’ tag.
Michael Jackson is dead. This is the kind of news that affects you, even if you were not a fan.
The King of Pop died following a heart attack in his LA home amidst weeks of rehearsals for his comeback tour at the O2 in London. He was rushed to UCLA Medical Center in a coma by paramedics following a 911 call from his home. Daily Press were amongst the first to report that the police had confirmed the death to the media, in what had until then been a speculative rush of information on the star’s condition. Even Rolling Stone had not been sure of the news. The BBC at 11.54 Greenwich Meantime were still unsure of the status, deeming Jacko to be merely “gravely ill”, whilst reporting that some US media were claiming he had died.
In what must be a first for Wikipedia, the page on Michael Jackson was down at 11.45pm London time, swarmed by fans checking for updates.
Google’s automatic News search results for Jackson still showed other unrelated stories, bizarrely one involving the Hulk actor Lou Ferrigno who had been training Jacko ahead of the tour that was meant to put behind Jacko the years of child abuse allegations and public trials. Youtube’s Suggest feature reckons it all won’t happen for another 6 months:
American pop culture just shrank significantly in a few days. It’s been probably the biggest week for celebrity deaths in the last…well, ever. Ed McMahon, another staple of American cultural life like Jackson, passed away just 2 days ago. All-American icon and original Charlie’s Angel Farrah Fawcett died within only a few hours of Jackson. And as I write this, word has it the only one I’ll really miss out of the bunch, Jeff Goldblum, has apparently died, falling to his death on the set of his latest movie. Manolith reports:
According to reports from a New Zealand newspaper – and lots of action on Twitter – actor Jeff Goldblum died early this morning after a fatal fall. The alleged death occurred while on set in New Zealand when Goldblum fell over sixty feet off a nearby cliff. As of yet no other news source has picked up the story, so it’s probably false. That said, he is currently filming a movie titled, “Morning Glory“, but no word on where it’s filming.
Last.fm statistics and Spotify listening behavious are probably already reflecting thousands upon thousands of fans tuning the knob to “Michael Jackson Radio.” In a few hours millions of messages from fans will be pouring in all over the news. The Obituaries will be awkward, as editors and sub-editors struggle not to be seen to be speaking ill of the dead whilst trying to remain fair to the facts that belie the closetted Neverland bad dream of his later life.
Cue the biography machine. The shitty paperback “Maximum Michael Jackson” hack jobs that were going to come out anyway with a chapter on his death stapled onto the end. Then in 6 months to a year the big ones will arrive, and stay firmly on most bestseller lists for a good while.
And documentaries. And Youtube videos of bawling fans. Of course.
So goodbye then Michael. You were one troubled guy, and there’s quite a few people who would want to moonwalk on your grave. You bought your way to freedom the way only someone with your money could. But the music kicked the world’s ass right out of its pants. Thousands of today’s acts either sound JUSTin like you, or wouldn’t even be in the music industry unless they’d wanted to be pop stars like you were. You were MTV’s first black artist, as well as one of its most successful white ones. You’re one of the big reasons why Motown-infused Soul made it into mainstream pop, and why its renaissance now in the form of Destiny’s Child and Beyonce, Duffy and Justin Timberlake is actually one of the few welcome nostalgia-cycles. And holy shit, you were one hell of a dancer.
Jackson is apparently survived by no-one, seeing as every fucker on the planet appears to be shuffling off their mortal coil today, severely hamstringing my ability to keep editorial reign over this article.
I never especially liked Jeremy beadle. In fact, his work on Beadle’s About and You’ve Been Framed was positively toe-curling. Every eye-winking pun that preceded every clip made me almost throw my salted almonds at the telly. He was like Richard Whiteley without the absurd tie, but WITH a very small hand. That’s right, world. I went there.
But that was the beauty of Jeremy. Like Richard Whiteley, he was not hung up on being laughed at, and seems to have actively sought out a cheesy image. That, after all, is one aspect of being a true entertainer.
Weirdly, after a life of pretty much tolerating Beadle the same way you tolerate your friend who believes absurd things because their religion tells them so, I’ll actually miss the old mental. A look at his credits will reveal how active he was behind the scenes in television, how much charity work he did. The man was a saint. Probably more so to his family. Who unfortunately survive him.
I came to the UK when I was about ten years old. Beadle, and a closeted Andi Peters (in more than one sense, ho-dee-ho-ho) were the first recognisable and therefore friendly faces of British TV. And as much as I grew to outgrow Beadle’s belabored puns and odd smile, he remained a stalwart of British TV; even when he published his extensively self-parodying autobiography that was hilarious for all the wrong reasons, we all secretly knew he was OARSOME (sic.)
Jeremy – Farewell. I wish I’d sent you MY home video. Tell you what, when I die I’ll bring it with me.
If I can find it.