Far too much has already been said about yesterday’s memorial service for Michael Jackson. Therefore, I shall be relatively brief.
Admittedly, I only saw a few clips last night. But the most poignant moment for me was not any of the eloquent eulogies (Brooke Shields) or stirring performances (Jermaine Jackson … who knew?). Nor was it little Paris upstaging everyone by declaring grief-stricken love for her Daddy:
Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father I could imagine. I just want to say I love him so much.
Incidentally, as “touched” as everyone else seems to have been by Paris’ performance, I found it painfully awkward, if not forced. Never mind the contradiction inherent in putting all three kids on public display (before a reported one billion people); i.e., given the extremes to which their “great father” went to hide their faces. I wonder who decided this shock therapy was in his kids’ best interest…? But I digress….
The most poignant moment for me was realizing, when she comforted Paris on stage, that Janet, and not her elderly and infirmed mother, is probably the best person to gain permanent custody of Michael’s children. Not least because, given her own commercial success, she’s the only one of the lot who will not be motivated to milk them like little cash cows.
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