Loser's Guide to Life
After I heard that Michael Jackson had died, I started to have the odd feeling that we, the general public—the witless, idle, starved-for-entertainment, imperious gabies that we are—had somehow killed him. He was like some sort of demented creature that everyone laughed at and encouraged, from his youth on, and look what he turned into: a monster whose survival depended on mass attention, and, therefore, on ever more outrageous behaviour. How did that happen?
You see all these cute kids on TV, in movies, whereever. In many cases, their greatest performance were beaten out of them.