...well, of course I have a bunch of thoughts and feelings concerning the death of Michael Jackson, not to mention the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Ed McMahon...I daresay if I did not, I'd probably be obliged to give up my United States citizenship. The echoes of Elvis in the decline of Jackson, for instance, and how Jackson in fact managed to outpace The King in waste and weirdness. I remember reading, in recent years, an article in Mojo magazine by soul music chronicler Gerri Hirshey, about the dawning years of Jackson's superstardom, that ended with the still-young, still plastic-surgery free young singer half-cheerfully asking Hirshey, "Scared for me yet?" For Fawcett, I think how she never really made it as a film actress, because that's sometimes the way that cookie crumbles, and how she gave it a good shot in Altman's Dr. T and the Women, and was Martin Amis really fair to mutate and recast her as "Butch Beausoleil" in his novel Money, a part send-up of the disastrous making of Saturn 3? And as for McMahon, I think that were this a socialist country like Europe (I know, Europe's more than one country, but bear with me here), McMahon would be a member of our equivalent of the Académie Française, and the taxpayers would be footing the bill for his house.