RIP Michael Jackson

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I have woken up to the confirmed news that the King of Pop is dead. I spotted a Facebook status update just before bed that read 'RIP Michael Jackson music genius' and quickly clicked on a newspaper website on my toolbar. I felt a couple of seconds of tense hope, the same as when I had heard Heath Ledger and Steve Irwin had died but had not yet read about it. Alas, it had yet to be confirmed, but it wasn't looking good and now it's no good at all. There's something shoddy and disconcerting about hearing of someone's death over the Internet, even compared to say radio or TV news or in the newspaper, as was the case, for me, with the deaths of Freddie Mercury, Princess Diana, Kurt Cobain and Michael Hutchence. I don't like it.

I feel sad for Jacko's family and loved ones - death is banal - and a little regretful that he didn't have his massive come-back. That said, I have to say that I did lose the thread with him somewhat. He was such a huge part of my childhood lounge room dance competitions and adolescent parties and conversations, but as an 'adult', coinciding with his increasingly evident mental and physical sickness, I have felt more vague frustration, confusion and pity towards him, than any active loyalty. Kate found this more recent video, which reminded me once more of MJ's awesome talent and brilliance. I am sure I will get the tunes out this weekend and feel more and more grateful towards him. It's hard for me to feel that while reading online articles. Maybe that's just me.

Anyway (mind quickly moves to other things), it's raining outside. I have to finish off some work today (I am nearly there!), before a weekend of squishing thesis work around a College ball, garden party and pancake breakfast. Obnoxious. Most Oxford students I know get far more work done out of term time than in. Term officially ended last week, but there's always frivolity week after term ends (and another the week before it resumes). Not my fault. Oxford traditions. I hope you have a lovely weekend, including some time to bust out an MJ classic.

Ugly Woman Comes Good

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Just in case I've been misleading you in any way, I am not the best with cutting edge stuff (hence even being a day or two off the pulse with this attempt). But, I thought I'd dip into the current pop TV-YouTube-media controversy which, if you haven't already heard, is Susan Boyle's appearance on Britain's Got Talent.

Susan, a 47 year old, unemployed, Scottish woman who, as she said, lives alone with her cat and has never been kissed, astonished the sniggering Cowell and co. and the hooting crowd with her performance of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Miserables. She brought them to tears and to their feet. She has now become a YouTube celeb with over 11 million hits, and, with Mr and Mrs Kutcher among her fans, the ugly woman has come good.

And now commentators are offering up reasons for this extreme response. Some say it's simply the surprise factor: a rough, frumpy woman with an enchanting voice. Others go a little further to say it is because, through Boyle, we are afforded a rare glimpse of human dignity and grace in a world obssessed with physical beauty and the right packaging. I was just sent an article from The Guardian that, I think, represents a more compelling take on the British (and worldwide) reponse to Boyle. Yes, it's excessive, but it pegs down the gauntlet completely (and the comments are fairly interesting too). Read it.