SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT AND STRAIGHT ON 'TIL MORNING

This week, in an elaborate world-wide televised spectacle, we as a planet said goodbye to Michael Jackson.

Not only did MJ make some damn fine records 25 years ago (and only the records from 25 years ago), but he was one of the world's most incredibly fascinating crackpots, whose fame and fortune drove him to a Willy Wonka-like level of eccentricity we are likely to never see again. Everyone on the face of the planet could point to a picture of Michael Jackson and tell you who it was. Studies have shown people in far-flung secluded villages in South America and Africa with few ties to the outside world knew who Michael Jackson was. I read a study years ago that said the three most recognizable people in the world were Mickey Mouse, Pope John Paul II, and Michael Jackson. Seriously.

I had "Off the Wall," I had "Thriller," and I had "Bad." If you were alive in the 80's, you had one or all of those records- it was practically dogma that you MUST own them. Being a product of 80's and not having Micheal Jackson records was like being a fundamentalist baptist minister and not owning a Bible. Michael Jackson was super-human, sharing a level of fame amongst the youth population on par with Chewbacca, E.T. and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The difference was that MJ was an actual person, though, growing up playing "Moonwalker" at the pizza parlor and waiting in line for Captain EO at Disneyland, you'd never KNOW he was real.

The 90's swept in, we learned it didn't matter if you were black or white, that MJ wanted to own the Elephant Man's bones for some reason, and we patiently watched myriad gags to the point of extreme staleness about him and his pal Bubbles every place imaginable, from late night talk shows and the Simpsons to Full House and Perfect Strangers. Michael responded: "Leave Me Alone." What a sweet video that was.

Time marched on, us 80's kids hit high school, then college, only catching snapshots of MJ on the news here and there, generally capturing something unspeakably weird- oh, he married Elvis' daughter? That makes sense, I guess. Did he molest a kid? Multiple kids? Probably not, but hey... the guy owns several giraffes; by the time you get to that level of fame and wealth it's gotta be hard to find new kicks. Say! There he is hanging Blanket the baby out a window and waving at French people! Why's he wearing an oxygen mask? Ah well- dude can do whatever he wants. He made "Thriller."

Michael Jackson reached a level of crazy super-fame (and super-fame-related craziness) that we will NEVER see again. Ever. It is nigh impossible, lest Jesus himself should return, that our A.D.D. culture will aim the camera at a person long enough for them to hit the super-human Jackson level of fame. And really, if Jesus did come back, he'd probably be bumped off the news after a day or so once the next season of American Idol starts. Then he'd have to try out on the show to get the world's attention back, in what would undoubtedly be the most watched event ever in the history of mankind: Jesus Christ meets Paula Abdul.

Celebrity in the modern age is accessible to all ("Hey man- did you see that wacky cat guy video on YouTube? Aw, he's awesome!" 2 weeks later "What about a cat guy?") which is in and of itself kind of cool, I suppose, but as everybody's 15 minutes of fame gets whittled down 10 minutes, then 5, then 1 minute and 38 seconds, really looking back on Michael Jackson makes a person wish we could go back to the days when people had to EARN their fame and live with it. And we could watch them live with it, front-yard Ferris wheels, wall-sized paintings of themselves as Peter Pan, crazy kid-themed mansions and all.

Let's fast forward 40 years or so, and say Paris Hilton dies. Will there be this level of global outpouring of sympathy? No way in hell. "Who's 'Justin Timberlake'? Hey- check out this new video I found of a dog eating an entire pie! That dog is AWESOME! He's going to be on the news later!"