It’s always sad when a celebrity you like dies, but it never has really affected me much. I don’t know exactly why, but the death of Michael Jackson at the age 50 has seriously bummed me out.

Maybe it’s because listening to Thriller is one of my earliest memories of really digging music. Singing along and doing my best MJ dancing impression was something me and my friends would do while the Thriller vinyl was spinning on my Holly Hobbie record player. I have no idea why my record player was a Holly Hobbie record player but it was. From Sears.

I mean, what kid in the 80s didn’t love Michael Jackson? I stared longingly at the red zippered jacket at the mall. I wanted the sparkly glove. I wanted to go to Neverland Ranch…before we knew about all that other business.

Maybe it’s because his death marks the first death of a childhood icon thus reminding me of my own mortality and the end of an era. Death comes for everyone, even the highly talented yet royally screwed up ones. Michael had his problems, but his impact on our culture is huge.

I bet Weird Al is grateful for Beat It.