This is not a blog about the late Michael Jackson, it is however a blog about mankind's never ending need for gods, their never ending need to have someone/something lead their life instead of doing it by own hands.
Professor Hans Fredrik Dahl published an article today's Dagbladet, and he more or less summed up what I have been thinking the last couple of weeks.
Life is not a mystery to those of you who spend your life floating around thinking about getting your hair done, or how to color coodinate your 2.5 children. Life is not a mystery to those of you who go to church every sunday and to those of you who celebrate christmas, get married in church, or claim to not be a believer in any gods. But under the surface there dwells a fear, a fear of the unknown, a fear of death. but you never go there, oh no. You never talk about that fear. Maybe it sneaks its way into your monthly nightmare, or maybe it flashes before your eyes the second before you switch channels to avoid the horrible story about protesters being killed in Iran. Actually most of you will spend all your life avoiding anything that makes you wonder or explore this mystical thing called life. Why?
Because of your fear of death. Running around like mice, breeding, fucking your partner, traveling to Spain, putting your parents in a home, expanding your house, getting promoted, looking forward to retirement, then and only then will you be relaxing and living the life you always wanted. Not once realizing retirement means death is close. But when someone you idolize dies, his/her face will pop in grilled cheese, in vegetables, in trees, you will see them in the local diner (being incognito), you will receive messages from the other side: The idol is here! He walks with us! Not even fucking Elvis is dead. Never. Noone ever dies. Not even you. Worship the new god!
When people like Elvis, Diana or Michael die there is a mass conception, a mass suggestion that your collective mourning and idolizing will keep them alive. Keep you alive. It's classic transference. It's a 21st century death cult revival. It's the oldest of cliches: It's not me - It's you.
Trust me.
Death will come.
