This may sound cold, but I can’t muster the sympathy to shed one tear for the passing of Michael Jackson…save, perhaps, for his family who loved him.

At very least, the man was a confirmed negligent father. Do we so soon forget him dangling an infant over a third-story balcony? In my mind, though some have doubts (for some reason), the man was, at worst, also a pedophile, guilty of one of the most heinous sins/crimes imaginable, despite what a crackpot jury of his peers found. Of course, I could be wrong…but I would still be right that his ramblings of a crazed lunatic and the threatening of the life of his own child make him a loon, and a despicable person.

Sure, I loved the Thriller album. And his stuff before and after had merit. No doubting his talent. But talent and fame do not absolve one of transgressions…especially as serious as those I firmly believe him to have committed. When interviewed on ABC years ago, his explanation of the strange goings on at Neverland Ranch held about as much weight as the alibi of the shirtless crack head on Cops who tells the questioning officer, “I ain’t did nuthin’!”.

I won’t miss his talent. I won’t miss his “personality.” To me, he stopped being an icon the moment he became cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs….where and when exactly you draw that line is the only matter up for debate.

Does time really heal all wounds? Do we forget about plain-as-day evidence in a time of collective “mourning”? Were we not outraged as we heard the stories of the children he “allegedly” abused? Jesus Juice? Sharing beds with pre-teens? Cuddling and kissing with strangers’ children? Balloon rides? (Okay, that last one was just another lunatic rambling….but still…it’s creepy.) On that, I hope we can all agree: He was creepy!

So farewell, MJ…and good riddance. Any solemnity I might otherwise observe in your passing I shall reserve for the children whose lives you undoubtedly destroyed. In a way, your demise rather brings relief, in knowing that it won’t happen again—at least at your hands.

You are not an icon, as the media have fawningly defined you in the past 24 hours. You are simply a con.