
Hello, Kat Paul blog readers! This is her sister, Tracie, and she has granted me exclusive rights as a guest blogger!
The message I bring to you this day is an extremely grievous one, brothers and sisters. One of my favorite on-the-way-to-Bear-Lake and cleaning-my-house jammers went the way of all the earth yesterday, as Kathrin and I were taking pictures at the Thanksgiving Point. (I added 'the' before the proper noun for Kathrin, she knows why.) Michael Jackson is his name. Creating masterpieces was his game.
As I type, Kathrin is sobbing behind me. The passing of this outrageously talented man was a shock. My mother and I took it the hardest, harder than Lisa Marie, even. As I fondly watch those excellent videos with the eerily long, skinny arms swinging about, lip synching, the annoying screaming girl (his date) in Thriller, and exquisitely high floods with white socks, my heart feels empty. Like a vast ocean that was just drained, sea life left twitching on the desolate sandy floors. Or a weary squirrel returning home to a lightning-shattered tree. Or an extremely fat kid after watching Willie Wonka finding out that there is no such thing. These worst case scenarios pale in comparison to the devastation felt by the Paul household...
"Hold on there, bobbalooey," you may say. "Hasn't he been absolutely disdainable the past twenty years?" To this I reply with a simple, "That was not my Michael J." We will not discuss his appalling behavior past this point. I believe the immense talent contained in this natural man was too much, and it tragically disabled his thinking abilities.
But as we return from that shudderingly dark age, we must remember only his early years. Not only a fantastically creative song-writer, (assuming he wrote his own songs, I'm almost positive he didn't, but let's just give him the benefit of the doubt), Michael had a mind-blowing voice partnered with some outrageously buck dance moves (minus the crotch grabbing, really, MJ? That's just silly, if you need to go potty, go before you perform). The variety of his music is astonishing, including even disco - my favorite song is Don't Stop til you get Enough!
In closing, we, the Paul sisters, would like to express our appreciation for this great man, pre-crazy years, and all the contributions he made to pop, 80's culture, and ensuring that we had an enjoyable ride to Bear Lake.
"RIP. Billie Jean will trouble him no more." -Erik Paul, a.k.a. funniest kid ever, from that comment alone.














