"You can never kill me." - Michael Jackson (RIP)

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Comment by IAPIA on September 4, 2009 at 2:22pm

Some people are Blessings in your life. The curse is not knowing that they were blessings until long after they are gone. Memory makes poor substitutes. But that's all we have left. And eventually we will ask ourselves if Blessings ever really happen at all. For we know there will never be another Blessing quite like that one. mjjrip

Comment by Sandy on September 3, 2009 at 8:08am

"I'm tired of bein' the victim of hate
You're rapin' me of my pride
Oh, for God's sake
I look to heaven to fulfill its prophecy...
Set me free."

It was a cry for help. How did he last for as long as he did?

Comment by Doogit on September 3, 2009 at 5:21am

What is wrong with people? This man has been tormented in the media for more than a decade. There has been no substantial proof made of anything other than a million dollar blackmail scheme. Look at him. This song is a cry for help that everybody ignored. Or exploited. Look at what he did here. Michael Jackson could shoot a video anywhere he wanted in the entire fucking world. He chose the slums of Brazil. Their government tried to stop him. They did not want the world to see the dark side of Rio. Michael stopped them. He showed us how these children live. He could have worn gold lame to shoot this. He wore an NGO t-shirt of a group that uses music to reclaim children lost to the streets of Brazil. This is not the heart of a degenerate. Will anybody ever know what was lost here? Or why?

Comment by Mary Baum on September 2, 2009 at 1:27pm

Let's hope we can learn to do better.

Comment by Rusty Nail on September 2, 2009 at 1:04pm

What a loss. When you look at his face and the faces of the young drummers it is obvious who is the poorer of the two. But then the next minute you see him burst absolutely free of all of us. The curious character assassins back home. The cameras. The Guardia. The world. ripmjrip

Comment by Lily Ayala on September 2, 2009 at 1:13am

I met him once. In a small place in France. He was in a Cafe late, late at night. He had a lot of people with him. They were all French and German. He heard me speaking English and sent one of his people over to get me. He was in this rediculous disguise moustache. And a blond wig. I remember shaking his hand. it was cold. And very light. But beautiful. Perfectly manicured except for one finger. it was chewed down. I do nails. I notice this stuff. I turned around to see if I could get a camera and he was gone. Another boy was in his place. It happened so damn fast. Like he was never there. But he was.