Pas

"'I am not,' he said gravely, 'a talented religious person,' and in seeking words to go on, found himself possessed by shame and fear. 'I think,' he said in a strained manner, 'that I came to God not because I loved Him, but because I did not.'"

-- "The Magic Barrel," by Bernard Malamud

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Big celebrities died recently in a trio: Ed McMahon before today's Farrah Fawcett and this afternoon's Michael Jackson. Of the three, the last takes precedence in the news, on Facebook, and on "Larry King Live." (I don't watch LKL, but I saw the last bit today.) King's broadcast this evening, as a matter of fact, centered around Jackson's death, or more accurately, the few meaningless encounters King had with Jackson. The twice-removed tribute lasted a good fifteen straight minutes.

King's show ended with the hasty addendum, that his condolences were also with Fawcett's family. A blessing and a curse, I'm sure: for a loved one's death to be passed up in the wake of a larger name.

Not that this is anything new. When Princess Diana died in a car crash, news of Mother Teresa's quiet death escaped global news. And when Robert Goulet died, Heath Ledger took the forefront. (Bea Arthur lucked out, kicking the bucket with no one else around to steal the thunder.) Cynical? Maybe.

Americans seem only to conjure phony sympathy for those with the biggest names. The fame of a name is the game. Speaking of Diana... Americans treat celebrities the way Brits treat royalty. In lieu of God-ordained rulers, we have God-given talent holders, and we worship talent over discipline, gifts over skill. Especially this younger crowd.

Death is never a terribly happy thing. But the Facebook emotions are just ridiculous. None of my FB friends, I'm certain, knew Jackson or Fawcett well, and so mourning their loss is not exactly appropriate. "It's the end of an era," one friend writes, years after Jackson's last successful album. "I'll miss you, Mikey," writes another. Also: "Michael will live forever in my heart," "This is how I'll remember Michael," and "Stop laughing, people! Michael Jackson was people, too!"

Seriously?

Say your uncle died. How would you feel if a million people heard about it and showed up at your family's home to weep?

I think most people would tell the secondhand mourners to get the hell out.

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That said, I committed some FB faux pas today.

I logged on just as news hit that MJ had been hospitalized. So when I saw people's statuses proclaiming (and bemoaning) his death, I wrote the following:

OK, let's be accurate, folks. Michael Jackson has merely had a heart attack and been taken to an LA hospital, where he fell into a coma. He's NOT dead. But I think it's pathetic that the LA Times ran this headline over their main story, "Twitter abuzz with speculation after Michael Jackson is rushed to hospital." Odd priorities, perhaps? The Twitter rumormongers get mentioned BEFORE the whole he-might-be-dead thing?

Now, fair enough. I shouldn't have joined the fray with my own amateurism. But, within ten seconds, three "friends" had posted on my wall that CBS, CNN, and the Times had updated their stories to include that he had, in fact, died.

In the time it took for me to write my pith, the man of whom I spoke passed.

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Another faux pas: My witty sister set as her status, "And so it goes." I gave a sarcastic reply, quoting the Billy Joel song of the same title, adding later that I knew she meant Vonnegut. (Joel himself would have deferred to the phrase's origin, Slaughterhouse-Five.)

And then one of my sister's friends corrected me, saying that it was a Vonnegut reference. He had seen the abridged version of my comment and assumed I had missed the boat. The haste with which we make decisions quickly becomes the waste with which we make them.

Kids these days...

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All of this makes me regret that I've been so active on the ol FB lately. The Internet craves opinions made haphazardly, premature premonitions, prophetic stupidity.

Or, more precisely, people use the Internet to satisfy the same cravings. Myself included.

We all want to stay current, to have the latest information as soon as possible. We live in a fast-paced world; this and much more has been said.

Does anyone else think we've lost something? There used to be a time when you may not have found out about a friend's death until you asked about that friend's well-being. "Oh," would come the reply, "you haven't heard."

"No, I haven't."

"He/She's passed on. Happened about a month ago."

"Oh, dear."

And your sympathy would be genuine, your surprise warranted. The news had taken longer to reach you, and it had sharpened with time. And this death was not just a conversation piece; it was a solemn reminder that we all hit the same brick wall at the end of the joy ride.

Nowadays, if you don't know immediately, you become the object of instant, public ridicule.

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I feel like I sound like an old man.

After all, I berate the Internet whilst I blog: a mammoth hypocrisy.

But I still believe that this outlandish outpouring is little more than when the cheerleaders all get sad when the Homecoming queen breaks up with her boyfriend. It's the same appropriation of emotion. Those closely associated with greatness will claim the same pains, and those distantly associated will claim closer association, and thus, the pains. It's the dumb human belief that even if we are not "important" or "popular" ourselves, that concerning ourselves with "important and popular" things and people makes us appear so.

I'm not saying I never do it. I'm just saying that it's dumb.

And I'm done.