A bit of a sick sinus headache had me propped up in bed for all two and a half hours of Michael Jackson memorial Tuesday afternoon. I told you last week, I was a big fan back in the day. I am of the opinion Michael was probably "not well" and I don't mean in the physical sense. He had enough money and yes-people around him, so it didn't really matter most of the time.
In spite of my lack humor over being in bed, I found myself chuckling quite a bit as each and every performer came out to try and out do the last.
Mariah Carey clearly does not know what a gal wears to a daytime funeral. Her dress was sequined with cleavage down to there.
Singer Usher movingly sang his way down to the casket for a perfect photo op.
Brooke Shields does know what to wear to a funeral, but as I watched I thought maybe even her tears were rehearsed. "And now I cry here."
Rep Sheila Jackson Lee from Texas came out in blazing white and rambled on about . . . oh, I stopped listening . . . and then presented the Jackson family with a beautifully framed House resolution . . . that has not yet passed.
Even Stevie Wonder chose red sunglasses to offset his black suit.
Every person did his or her best to have loved Michael better or to have sung his song prettier or to wear the clothes that will capture the attention of the Associated Press photographer.
Oh, I don't need to be so critical. I have no doubt all these people were mourning in their own way. They are show biz people. They were born to want to stand out in the crowd. If I would tell the truth, I like to stand out in the crowd too.
But here's the thing: For all the good things Michael did, for all the beautiful people he knew, for all the great music, for all the glowing tributes . . . he has died . . . as will we all. And I believe what Pastor Lucious Smith said in his closing prayer, "Even now the King of Pop must bow his knee to the King of Kings."