Where were you when you heard the news, when you realized that the world had lost its greatest
entertainer? I was in my living room, watching TV, shaking my head and wondering what life would be like without George Carlin.
That was a year ago. I just couldn’t believe the brilliant comedian was gone.
I had the same feeling when I heard that Michael Jackson had died, a feeling that the world had lost a talent it would never see again, at least not for another millennium, when someone develops a time machine.
Jackson was to my generation what Neil Armstrong was to the previous one. Armstrong was the first man to walk on the moon, but until Jackson came along, many of us had never seen the moonwalk.
He was no astronaut, of course, but nobody could rocket up the music charts like him. During his peak, he had more No. 1 singles than anyone else, more hits than the entire lineup of the Chicago Cubs.
He became known as the “King of Pop,” easily outshining all contenders for the title, even that Indian man who had set a world record for bursting balloons.
He gave us an album called "Thriller" –- and what a thrill it was, the best investment a music fan could make, aside from taking Madonna on a date.
His mega-hit “Beat it” soared to No. 1 on several charts around the world, so popular that Ayatollah Khomeini, concerned about the influence of American popular culture, instructed the youths of Iran to stop “beating it.”
