Well the trial of Wacko Jacko’s doc has come to an end and without any real surprises, Doc Murray was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter or some such. Although in the grand scheme of things I couldn’t  give a flying, however I guess I do feel the need to throw in my 2 cents. To claim this as a victory and justice having been done is a little hard to swallow. Firstly the trial itself poses a problem, as is the case in most trials that involve a major celebrity, it is virtually impossible to get a set of jurors that will be entirely without prejudice and it may doubly be so when we include someone as notoriously wacky, albeit beloved by many, as Michael Jackson. Can we really believe that Michael’s celebrity didn’t at least play a part in the final conviction? Did the jurors feel at least some pressure to come back with a guilty verdict to vindicate the death of the King of Pop? We’ll never know for sure but lets hope that the jurors made a objective analysis of the facts rather than an emotionally charged obligation to preserve the memory of the “king” as a victim of some evil villain of a doctor rather than just some grandiose junky.

Secondly the premise that Doc Murray should be held responsible for what essentially amounted to Jacko’s flirtation with suicide is somewhat uncomfortable. Sure the doctor ought to be held responsible for the less than ethical conduct of being a glorified drug dealer and perhaps for not exhibiting the appropriate duty of care at least after the fact but lets face it, what serious drug abuser uses anaesthetic as their drug of choice?  I mean WTF? We all know Michael Jackson was strange but can we really buy into the idea that he really needed what he called his ‘”Milk” to cure his insomnia? The whole idea is preposterous! Then paying the good doctor a hundred and fifty grand a month to administer the noxious “milk” Propofol into Jacko’s veins even more absurd. But could we expect anything less from someone labelled Wacko Jacko? I mere mortal would be happy with a shot of heroin and maybe a few benzos to alleviate the woes of the world but to request full unconsciousness with surgical grade anaesthetic is somewhat extreme in comparison. And in this case lethal.

So remember kiddies steer clear of the “milk” and stay with the cough syrup instead.

Seriously this is certainly some messed up world we live in. A world where celebrity is treated as a god head when in reality, celebrity is just mere flesh and blood with the flaws we all possess, just magnified a great deal more under the media microscope. We could all perhaps take a step back and admit that Michael Jackson would still be alive if he didn’t want his milk and eat it too.The doctor didn’t kill the King of Pop, the king killed himself.

Although blaming some dubious character rather than the stupidity of an individual held in such great esteem is easier to deal with. But what is probably even more of a bitter pill to swallow is that perhaps it is us, those who hold these individuals up on pedestals who have at least a share of the blame. Fame is a heavy burden that the celebrity endures and the masses that scrutinise and idolise the famous surely should be held accountable in some sense for the burden that often manifests in oddities and sometimes self harmful behaviour. I guess it is a 2 way street but what if celebrity could just go about their business without being mobbed by fans, surely then a little normalcy could be had and a little less eccentricities and neurosis accrued. But then again often the celebrity ego demands idolatry.

Anyway. RIP Wacko Jacko. In the end, you got what you wanted. Sleep.