We Are the Weirdoes

Tuned in to Court TV, I listened as Michael Jackson was found not guilty on all counts. With the Jackson 5 quietly playing on my laptop, I thought back to the days when Michael was African-American and appeared to be normal. Now innocent on molestation, conspiracy, and alcohol charges, he is white and weird. I was stunned as the words “not guilty” were read 14 times, but moreover, I came to the conclusion that we, though not including me, are the weirdoes.

With every verdict, a woman released a white dove, and another person held a sign that read “Michael, on behalf of mankind, we’re sorry.” For these Jackson worshippers and others who deify the King of Pop, their idol returns to the Neverland Ranch a free man.

It is scary to think that the hundreds of sign-toting fans who waited for hours outside of the Santa Maria, California courthouse are in fact your future jurors. What these future jurors fail to realize is that a difference exists between Michael Jackson, the entertainer, and Michael Jackson, the man. He is no longer the man who once “thrilled” us, and the jury refused to brand him a “smooth criminal.”

As fans moved the party from the courthouse to the gates of the Neverland Ranch, a man who shares his bed with children was placed into both Hollywood and legal history. For a singer who has been in the celebrity limelight for decades, a part of his fan base was undeterred by the accusations that were at hand.

Those people whose lives are mesmerized by celebrities often fail to separate the human from the celebrity. Stripping Michael Jackson to a no-name, accused, child molester, we would be far from releasing doves into the air.

Celebrity lovers immortalize stars forgetting that these icons are as human as the rest of us. Not even celebrities are immune from the mental suffering that plagues mankind. Yes, celebrities make mistakes like the rest of us, but there should be no difference between a celebrity’s mistake and your neighbor’s mistake.

The Michael Jackson case is evidence that a percentage of the American population have their priorities in disorder. The King of Pop may be free, but our servicemen and women are still chained to the soil of Iraq. Three dollars per gallon of gas looms in the future. The Aids crisis in Africa worsens as U.S. aid has not yet met expectations. Should we release a dove when a human being dies in Iraq or Africa?

While fans waited patiently in the afternoon heat for the fragile Jackson, family members of servicemen and woman wait patiently in their homes for verdicts on the lives of their sons and daughters. No one is knocking down the gates to the white house.

It is no surprise that Michael Jackson’s superstar status brought out the masses to support him in his time of need. If enough people can rally for an acquitted child molester, let’s hope we will see the same vigor taken to the streets in protest of other credible current events. We can listen to the album “Thriller” as much as we want, but it will not help pay for gas. Michael may be free but can he help my unemployed uncle find a job in a country whose job market floats oversees?

Maybe the parents who allow their children to sleep with Jackson are to blame. Maybe Jackson himself is the only one to blame. Regardless, on behalf of humankind, I apologize for us.

Holiday Day Blues

Memorial Day marks the beginning of the summer of 2005 has finally begun. College and high school seniors graduate. “Star Wars: Episode III” kicked off the summer blockbuster movies. We’ve filibustered the Senate and fili-blasted Iraq. We’re throwing burgers and dogs on the grill, dishing out potato salad and slices of homemade apple pie, and cracking open a case of ice cold Michelob Ultra (We have to watch our carbs before we hit the beach). By the way, it was Memorial Day Weekend.

My 17-year-old sister made a very astute observation concerning Memorial Day. “We are a country that honors our dead servicemen and women with a celebration of cookouts, beer, and road trips,” she said. Yes, young Rega, this is very true, however such similar celebrations for other serious “holidays” is all too typical for the average American.

Jesus Christ’s birth is bombarded with twinkling lights, panicking shoppers, making out underneath plants, and most importantly presents. To remember the magical oil that lasted for eight days, Jews devour potato pancakes, pass around chocolate money, and most importantly exchange presents. St. Patrick’s Day makes our dreams of drinking green beer come true, and let’s not forget all of the bunnies, ducks, rabbits, and chocolate that helped Jesus rise from the dead.

At the end of summer, we celebrate Labor Day to honor the working class with a final barbeque before the kids are shipped back to school. The burgers, dogs, and slaw are put on the table for one last time, and the Budweiser is sucked down because we have nine months before we need to look good for the beach again. Once we amass giant piles of refuse from our three day weekend of pigging out and revelry, we send the working class back to their jobs the next day to clean it all up and keep us fed again.

In between the meat patties and a brew, what is it that this country really celebrates? Year after year, holidays and commemorations become code words for parties and togetherness. I don’t want to be a downer on togetherness because holidays and commemorations do have many positives such as the ability to bring family and friends together amidst their time-deprived lives. However, firing up the grill as we attempt to remember those who fought bravely for our country, while men and women are on the front lines in Iraq, seems ridiculous.

During the Memorial Day weekend, I found that a majority of the public that I interacted with rejoiced with the coming of this holiday weekend. Memorial Day food specials caught my attention as I entered my local supermarket. In retails stores, salespeople wished my weekend well. Additionally, I was asked if I had any plans to celebrate. I’ve decided to sit around a giant American flag in my home and pass out presents with a plate of ribs in one hand and an Atkins bar in the other. I wonder if people truly know why we celebrate Memorial Day. If the retail world is gearing up for a holiday celebration, then so does the rest of the country.

The “gift holidays” are just as guilty as Memorial Day. From the day after Thanksgiving until the New Year, our country is put into retail frenzy as we gobble up every conceivable electronic device, article of clothing, and talking stuffed animal in a strong effort to please our family and friends. Our money flies out of our pockets like its Monopoly money. In the end, religious symbolism and togetherness are generally overshadowed by wrapping paper and an empty wallet.

This all is a product of the excessive nature of Americans and America’s brand of capitalism. Any excuse to throw a party and get liquored up is quickly seized. Presents in exchange for love and happiness? I’ll take it.

When we aren’t celebrating, we walk around declaring that we are good Americans. How can we be so good when honoring the dead is a call for celebration or the resurrection of the dead equals chocolate rabbits? I do not want to discredit these moments that bring joy into the lives of many or proselytize that we should all sit in our homes depressed, but perhaps we could take a little more time for reflecting upon the dead and suffering that wars have caused and a little less time wasting away in Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville.” We can make war obsolete if we recognize the suffering it has caused.