[caption id=”attachment_2280” align=”aligncenter” width=”565” caption=”Jack Daniels, gaffer's tape, assless chaps, a pack of smokes, and…a banana?”]
Death has the unexpected benefit of restoring relevance. Michael Jackson is dead so we forget about the bleached, siliconized, plastic surgery testing ground that was once his face, and we chose to set aside his suspicious activity with children, and we toss the Liz Taylor obsession, the crotch-grabbing, and his increasingly stilted moonwalk into a pit of gossip waste matter. Along with the Elephant Man’s bones and a chimp named Bubbles. The King is dead. Long live the King.
Let us also note that Keith Richards has outlived yet another rock star.