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Today I continue my homage to Wired Magazine’s Chris Anderson. If you’re going to plagiarize, do it with style. I also feel that most discussion of the recent death has hit all the wrong notes. So I give you a fine work of prose fit for the occasion. The person we need to eulogize MJ himself is long dead. Anyone recognize this?:

Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the mall, and cried incessantly: “I am looking for Michael Jackson! I am looking for Michael Jackson!”

As many of those who did not believe in Michael Jackson were standing together there, he excited considerable laughter. “Have you lost him, then?” said one. “Did he lose his way like a child?” said another. “Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? or emigrated?” Thus they shouted and laughed. The madman sprang into their midst and pierced them with his glances.

“Where has Michael Jackson gone?” he cried. “I shall tell you. We have killed him – you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon?

What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Away from all suns? Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left?

Are we not dancing through an infinite space? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying the man in the mirror?

Do we not smell anything yet of Michael Jackson’s decomposition? Kings too decompose…How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves?

I will tell you. Carbonated. It works best. Gets out all kinds of stains.

Must we not ourselves undergo it simply to be worthy? There has never been a greater deed; and whosoever shall be born after us – for the sake of this deed he shall be part of a higher history than all history hitherto.”

Here the madman fell silent and again regarded his listeners; and they too were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern to the ground, and it broke and went out. “I have come too early,” he said then; “my time has not come yet. The tremendous event is still on its way, still travelling – it has not yet reached the ears of fans.

We are all waiting for the words to sink in. And when they do…Oh, will it be ugly. Stock up on canned goods while you can and enjoy the Internet. Barricade your doors, and trust no one.