On my fifth birthday I danced around my house and sang, "You know I'm five, I'm five, you know it...tell you once again...who's five?!" I loved him then and I love him now.
I loved him even more when my nickname in high school became Thriller and at each dance one of my friends would request it and I'd dance a solo to it. I even have the "Thriller" album framed in my office at work-- it was a high school graduation gift.
Michael Jackson, I salute you for being a complete weirdo and for giving the world some really bad ass music. I'll try to ignore the fact that you were accused of some pretty sick things and remember that you were not convicted. I'll remember your attempt to heal the world and free Willy. I'll heed your advice and remember to always think twice. I hope now, where ever you are, that Diana is no longer dirty, that Billie Jean has found the father of her child and that you can be accepted for who you are on the inside and not on the outside, because Michael, it doesn't matter if you're black or white.
Here's to you, MJ, here's to you.