The king is dead. Long live the king!

written by: Niels Erik Toren

So he's dead, it has been all over the news since it happened. He barely hit the ground or rumours and reports where already being spread around. Initial reports couldn't give out more information but the fact that he's dead. Nobody really knew what the fuck happened. Media conglomerates act swiftly if an emergency takes place, scenarios; hundreds of pages thick have been written about how to act and where to be when it all goes down, a nuclear strike, the overdue attack on Obama, etc... But this however, came too unexpected for even the wittiest at any news network to deal with.

"News: Michael Jackson has passed away... here with the weather is..." - first report I heard on the radio.

Michael Jackson is no longer among us, and so he left his title unclaimed and his image unrepaired. He was due to stage new concerts, to pay off his tumbling debts, but death couldn't wait, and the old sport couldn't beat it. I would have expected more of such a musical legend, but then again, in the end, he proved to be only human.

Much has been written about him throughout his days, and as he was enclosing his final chapter, none of it was too positive. The media mocked him as an old degenerate pedophile and moreover as a mutilated fading star, who spent the last years running away from friend and foe. When he finally succeeded to evade the radar of shame for a while, he was bleeping vigorously when more became known of his financial troubles. More oil to burn for the monstrous engine we unjustly describe to be the free press. Free maybe, but free as the free enterprise is free...

Strange times indeed. Turmoil all over the globe, conflicts stretching from the far east to the west outskirts. Kings and legends dieing on us. Speaking of death, I saw a man die this week. I wasn't at the scene long enough to smell the fumes, the imminent stench of death, but I saw him struggling and moments later pass away in all serenity. it happened all too fast, and it made me feel insecure about the certainty of life. And now, hours after M J died, media have found ways to capitalize on it, and jumped on rumours as if they were given facts as sure as night and day. Scavenging for clues around the normally quiet walls of the UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles. Peculiar really, I imagined - him until recently that is - sitting on a wooden camping stool , in some desert far away, having a discussion with a legion of lawyer minions.

But to be frank, we don't know, and CNN can lay all the bullshit theories on us, as they have always faithfully done, but we will never know. How it really went down, and how it really was to see him die. And a probable wave of glorifying comments and remarks is on the way, as if D-day has broken loose on TV. He will be remembered a sincere man now, quiet and humble, maybe even a tad pathetic, and we will forget the little boys, and theme parks, and debts. Because as just with his death, we will never know the truth about any of those things, not about his death, the little boys and the reason he had an eccentric theme park built at his mansion. And if you ask me, he died, just as the man on the street, struggling, but eventually peaceful... And business will continue to be just like normal, and a new king will be crowned not too long from now.

"Ave Caesar, those who are about to die, salute you." - Gladiatorial saying