Who is Michael Jackson?

The teds were playing today, wreaking havoc as usual, when little Itsy the Panda – aka “Itsy the Terror” – looked up from the toy cannon she got for her birthday last week and asked, “Who is Michael Jackson?”

Her older brother Benjamin, being the sententious little brown and yellow know-it-all that he is, immediately corrected her. “Was,” he said.

“Huh?” said Itsy in return, her bonnet slipping down over her eyes, as it usually does.

“Was,” Benjamin repeated, obviously reveling in his sense of superiority. “You mean, ‘Who was Michael Jackson.’ He’s dead now.”

“Oh,” said Itsy. “Yeah. Well, who was he, then?”

“Why do you want to know?” asked Letta, the sleek, low purr of her voice matching her sleek honey-colored fur and enduring beauty.

“’Cause he’s always on the television,” Itsy replied. “Dad and Mommola always complain no serious news gets on because everybody’s always talking about Michael Jackson instead.” As if to emphasize this, she then shot off her cannon, “Ka-WHOOMPF!”

“Damn, did you have to shoot that off right next to my ear?” Benjamin complained, rubbing his ears in dismay, as his beautiful, shiny-white girlfriend, Brighton, kissed and soothed him.

“Sorry,” Itsy blithely replied, while setting about to reload. “But why does everybody always talk about him all the time on television?”

“I guess because he was a celebrity,” said Letta, as she licked the fur of her left wrist, giving it a super shine, in preparation for a hot date tonight. Besides, she likes to keep herself well groomed.

“So?” said Itsy, as she lugged another huge shell over to her cannon. “What’s a celeberty?”

“Somebody who gets a lot of attention for doing incredibly stupid things,” Benjamin declaimed, with his usual lugubrious sense of edgy authority.

“Actually,” observed Biwi, the younger (by 8 seconds) of the twin Pandas, Biwi and Birni, “he was a great singer, songwriter, and dancer before he began doing things some people considered incredibly stupid.”  

The twins are accorded much respect among the other teds. Biwi is the comedian and documentarian of the duo. Birni is the munitions and anti-terrorist expert. Their combined talents give them an almost unlimited potential for wreaking havoc, which is why they are accorded such great respect by the other teds. So when one of them speaks, the others tend to listen, except perhaps for Benjamin.

 “Well, he hasn’t done any singing or dancing in a really long time,” Benjamin pointed out.

“So why does everybody always talk about him on the television, then?” Itsy asked, after plopping the next shell into her cannon.

“Because he’s dead,” said Benjamin.  

“What’s that got to do with it?” asked Letta, checking her lashes in her paw mirror.

“People can say whatever they want now,” Benjamin pointed out, “and he can’t talk back.”

“Oh,” said Itsy, a puzzled expression peeking out from under her bonnet.

“Besides,” added Benjamin, who was on a roll now, “the television people are probably mad because now he’s dead they won’t be able to make any more money off him when he does stupid things.”

“But the record companies and his family are really going to rake it in now that he’s gone to join Elvis,” Biwi noted ruefully.

“Oh,” said Itsy, still puzzled but obviously growing tired of the subject.

At this point Birni decided to have what turned out to be the last word, “It’s a bit like kicking a dead horse.”

“Oh,” said Itsy again. “Ka-WHOOMPF!” went her cannon.

“Itsy!” yelled Benjamin.

“What?” asked Itsy, as she headed for another shell.