america loves a funeral, especially when it’s a dead celebrity. you don’t get much more celebrated than michael jackson, huh. the aftermath of his homicide or whatever it was is pretty hard to avoid, stomach and witness. latoya, please! is there not an ounce of dignity in your surgically altered being? I guess not. the whole thing is just silly. yeah, there were some good pop songs, but probably not as many as ellie wrote! and he didn’t even write most of them. anyway, the most sensible thing we’ve seen written was by our old pal and boss from the washington city paper, mark jenkins. on another note, watching the slow, sad, painful disintegration of the alternative weekly has been pretty hard to take. those papers had a huge influence on me as a young fanzine editor in the making, and I really wish things were in better shape so they could all buy themselves back from whoever owns them now. that said, and after reading things like this, it is pretty clear that replacing mark jenkins as critic at the washington city paper with a gaggle of cheaper youngsters really wasn’t very bright.