I’m just going to come right out and say it: I’m sick of hearing about Michael Jackson. Wall to wall coverage of his death was only newsworthy for about the first day and a half. It is all I have been hearing for the past week, and not just from entertainment venues. Cable news shows are constantly rehashing the circumstances of his death and his life story. Now I’ll grant you the guy was a phenomenal entertainer. But come on, it’s not like he cured a disease or anything. I mean, John Lennon didn’t get this much press when he was shot, and a murder is far more newsworthy than a singer who overdoses on drugs. (Like that never happens).
It is almost as if we have elevated Michael Jackson to hero status. The guy never did anything hero-worthy in his life. Let’s face it, he was a talented, tortured, drug-addicted, child molester who was enabled every step of his life by people who used him to make a buck. A sickening display if you ask me. And yet, our culture practically celebrates this.
Farrah Fawcett died and I barely heard a word about her. Cable news shows did not endlessly debate whether she should have made a documentary about her death process. Billy Mays died and you probably don’t even know who he was. He was the bearded gentleman who yelled at you about Orange Glo and OxyClean. Remember? His death is far more newsworthy to me because he supposedly hit his head in a jet during a rough landing, then died that night. That is so unexpected I want to know more.
Ronald Reagan died a hero. He did more than anyone in recent history to help secure liberty and prosperity for people around the globe. Michael Jackson can’t hold a candle to Reagan hero-wise, despite what Al Sharpton says. And yet here we are, absorbed with the sordid saga of Jackson’s life. Meanwhile, in Honduras… Meanwhile, in Washington cap and trade threatens… Meanwhile, anywhere but Neverland…
It’s time to stop this false idol worship of Michael Jackson and turn our attention to far more important things. So, how’s your relationship with Jesus going?
7/2/09
6/30/09
Move Before I Break A Hip!
It is not easy being the object of someone’s undying affection. I’m talking about my dog Mac. Mac is a Springer Spaniel and if you know anything about the breed you know they are hopelessly, religiously, obsessively, devoted to their people. Mac is especially enamored of me. He constantly follows me everywhere I go. When I pause for longer than say three seconds, he is right there touching me or on top of my feet. I seriously considered naming him “Move” because I knew that’s what I would end up saying to him all day. I can’t count how many times I have been doing dishes at the sink and turned to go somewhere only to trip over the dog. I’m convinced tripping over the dog is the number one way older people break their hips at home.
I knew when we adopted Mac from a rescue group my privacy would be gone. I can no longer go to the bathroom alone unless I close and lock the door. If I don’t Mac forces the door open, comes in, and plops down on my feet. My other dog Oreo stays in the doorway just to be sure Mac isn’t getting any undo attention. Curious about all this, the cat will march in and jump on the counter to supervise. Good thing I'm not shy! Still, there are certain mornings I find all the attention a little disconcerting.
Mac also has an obsessive need to touch me and be touched by me. He does this by sitting down, throwing his head back, and forcing me to hold his paw. At night when I’m on the couch, I beg my husband and son to divert his attention away from me just so I can have a break from his hot breath panting in my face. By then, I’ve had my day’s fill of doggy devotion and just want to be left alone.
My husband was the one who wanted another Springer. He has always loved the breed. But I knew Mac would end up being MY dog because I spend the most time with him. I get up at 5:17 every morning to feed and potty the dogs. (They are like atomic clocks when it comes time for breakfast). I’m home most of the time with the animals and tend to most of their needs. Even though I get fed up with the constant attention and having to tip-toe over him, I love Mac. I just melt when I look into those big brown eyes gazing up at me full of love and devotion. I think it is the closest thing on earth to God’s unconditional love.
I knew when we adopted Mac from a rescue group my privacy would be gone. I can no longer go to the bathroom alone unless I close and lock the door. If I don’t Mac forces the door open, comes in, and plops down on my feet. My other dog Oreo stays in the doorway just to be sure Mac isn’t getting any undo attention. Curious about all this, the cat will march in and jump on the counter to supervise. Good thing I'm not shy! Still, there are certain mornings I find all the attention a little disconcerting.
Mac also has an obsessive need to touch me and be touched by me. He does this by sitting down, throwing his head back, and forcing me to hold his paw. At night when I’m on the couch, I beg my husband and son to divert his attention away from me just so I can have a break from his hot breath panting in my face. By then, I’ve had my day’s fill of doggy devotion and just want to be left alone.
My husband was the one who wanted another Springer. He has always loved the breed. But I knew Mac would end up being MY dog because I spend the most time with him. I get up at 5:17 every morning to feed and potty the dogs. (They are like atomic clocks when it comes time for breakfast). I’m home most of the time with the animals and tend to most of their needs. Even though I get fed up with the constant attention and having to tip-toe over him, I love Mac. I just melt when I look into those big brown eyes gazing up at me full of love and devotion. I think it is the closest thing on earth to God’s unconditional love.
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