The Inevitable

Imagine you step out of the shower to towel off and can't help but turn to the kaleidoscoping reflections that fill up the mirrored walls of your luxurious shower suite. Your hair is gone, the famous tousled ringlet curls now scattered blotches of graying stubble. A xylophone ribcage juts out over a sunken gut, protruding pelvic bones and knobby knees. At 5'10" tall and 112-lbs., you're only marginally more well-nourished than an inmate in a Nazi workcamp and your drawn, gaunt face shows it. There's something wrong with your nose... it never quite fit, and for the ten-thousandth time you regret you went that far. Your skin is as white and translucent as a bride's veil. The needle tracks up and down your arms and between your toes ache and itch, and it's all you can do to restrain yourself from tearing at the scabs.

Michael Jackson died for our sins.

In the end, all the money in the world couldn't buy Michael Jackson what he really needed.

A sad case, another long slow dive off the entertainment pinnacle. In his quest for perfection, driven by an obsessive need to please, Michael's self-destruction was rooted in his simple, stubborn refusal to grow up. No one around him forced him to be 'normal'. No one could, according to some. Michael would cut off anyone who tried to come between him and his bizarre behavior while most of the paid help whistled dixie and looked the other way.

Michael couldn't stop being the star child and had to die a lot sooner than most of us because of it.

Did you really believe Michael Jackson would live long and prosper?

Not many did, it seems. His family, friends and fans watched him die, helpless... even complacent in the face of what they knew would be the inevitable.

Who will be fame and fortune's next bloodied victim?

It's the reason we watch.

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