The Only Game in Town

I now understand the hysteria and obsession over Michael Jackson’s death:

He was your Elvis, and when your Elvis dies, so does the private lie that someday you will be young once again, and feel at capricious intervals the weightlessness of a joy that is unchecked by the injuries of experience and failure.

In other words, you two died a bit today.

Welcome to the only game in town.

It’s a game Jackson himself never played.

H/T: Brian Dunbar