Michael Jackson is dead.

The nice thing I can think of to say about him is that as a child performer in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, he was a truly gifted singer and dancer, and had a natural charisma and showmanship that were remarkable. You can’t intimidate or beat that into someone, despite his father’s best and repeated efforts. No, he was a very talented little dude, who was used by everyone in his life, protected by no one, with no one ever addressing the very serious physical and mental issues that came because of it. Not ever. Not when there still might be a chance to get money out of him.

Past that, there are many many people who suffer as children in life who don’t grow up and pass that misery along to other children. Who don’t destroy their bodies. Who don’t systematically deconstruct their own faces. Who don’t buy children just to raise them with their faces under scarves or bags when they go in public. My sympathy for him as a victim ends quite abruptly here.

This was one completely miserable man, was so for decades, and he was never going to get better. I sincerely wish his three children the best of luck in whatever place they land now.