When it came up that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the
hospital, I was sitting at my computer. Thinking it would turn out just
as the recent Heidi Montag story did when she was rushed to the hospital
during some celebrity reality show in Costa Rica, or as countless
Britney Spears ambulance stories had, I brushed the story aside a bit.
However, it wasn't long before online news outlets were running the
headline that Michael Jackson had actually, (this time), died.
From my recollection, most of the headlines were technically proper in
the announcement of the death of the King of Pop. Rather than omitting
the sources of the news in their headlines, they attributed the news to
TMZ and the L.A. Times in their headlines. Some news outlets equally
weighted their headlines with the news and the sources. Other outlets
dwarfed the sources with shocking uppercase: huge letters "MICHAEL
JACKSON DIES," small letters "LA Times reports." Eventually, news
outlets dropped the sources of their news from their headlines,
declaring plainly that MJ had died. CNN kept sources in its headlines
for an exceptionally long time. After CNN confirmed MJ's death with the
coroner, it dropped its hearsay position and finally committed to the
tragic story.
I remember being more disoriented than saddened
by the MJ news. Michael Jackson had been a part of my life for a very
long time--my whole life, actually. He played the role of background
presence or white noise. I suppose he was an institution I bought enough
into. Or maybe he was that prize exhibit running at the local zoo that
you felt proud of having in your town but never tried to see. A few days prior to his death, I entered the menagerie that is
YouTube and randomly chose to watch his jaw-dropping music video "Black
or White," only to have my mandibular muscles go slack again in
witnessing his idiosyncratic yet ingenious choices. He was very much
alive in the video. But his death wasn't a shock to me, since I'd seen
plenty of photographs recently of a frail-looking, wheelchaired man--he
seemed on his way out. Little did I know, until the posthumous release
of footage of an enormous concert he was rehearsing, that he was back to
dancing.
A few hours after the news broke, I went into my
local supermarket to grab some dinner. There I saw on the widescreen TV
CNN's independent confirmation of MJ's death. Oddly, I started to get a
little giddy. Not because Michael Jackson had died, but because there
was a palpable air of excitement over the news. The employees at Bravo
International Supermarket were tickled chimpanzees, broken by this
breaking news from the tedium of scanning items and debit-or-credit
questions. I grinned like one of them amidst the excitement. I
skedaddled into the frozen food section for dinner, then suddenly I
received a cell phone call. It was Lisa, an ex-girlfriend of mine, now
in Colorado.
Lisa asked, "Did you hear Jeff Goldblum died?"
I stopped dead.
I was immediately disturbed.
I sought more information.
Lisa said she'd heard that Jeff Goldblum fell to his death while mountain-climbing in New Zealand.
I asked her where she had heard this.
It was from Tim,
someone I didn't consider a very reliable source
but someone possibly inside the entertainment industry.
She said that according to Tim, the news was all over Twitter that Jeff Goldblum had died.
* * *
Some backstory: A month prior, I had wrapped a film called The Baster.
On it, I was the stand-in for Jason Bateman, who co-starred in the film
with Jennifer Aniston. Jeff Goldblum had a small, funny role in The
Baster, and some of my most memorable moments were with him.
For example, one day at Equinox Fitness Club in Tribeca, as the crew
hurriedly set up a shot, I found myself standing in alongside Jeff. Jeff
was this wiry, six-foot-five hypomanic actor who never seemed to stop
talking. …
Thursday, 9 June 2016
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