You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination…
‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night
There ain’t no second chance against the thing with forty eyes, girl
Thriller, thriller night
You’re fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight
Night creatures calling, the dead start to walk in their masquerade
There’s no escaping the jaws of the alien this time
(They’re open wide)
This is the end of your life…
Being the same age as Michael Jackson, I grew up watching him. Never bought any of his music because it was ubiquitous, everywhere. I don’t think I ever really admired him, except in the sense of realizing how much work it was to do what he did, how much he put into it all. He was an amazing performer, his entire life basically one long performance. I wonder if even Michael ever knew who he really was, underneath it all. A part of the boomer childhood vanished yesterday, with Farrah and Michael. Some are calling it the end of pop culture, but of course it isn’t. But I certainly felt the pull of age and time, and the loss of another piece of my teen years and their history.
Thanks, Michael. We’ll miss you.