Since 2007, The Good Doctor Zeus has operated Not A Blogger. the Internet’s premier site for Cavaliers, Wu-Tang, and Cantankerousness appreciation.
There will never be a moment in my life when I won’t have the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s “Heal The World” permanently etched into the back of my eyelids. If I’m fortunate enough to reach old age and when the inevitable slow decay of senility has robbed me of everything but my burning, uncompromising desire to hate on the world, I have a feeling that I’ll still be able to sing the bridge of the song.
And I don’t even like “Heal The World.” I generally consider the song to be the cheesiest of Jackson’s “Why Can’t We Get Along” phase of his career that accompanied the release of 1991’s Dangerous, and the
attempted personal reconciliation with his rapidly mutating appearance. The song features everything I hate about these type of songs. Its grossly over-produced, it drips with saccharine sentimentality and bears an overly optimistic viewpoint of the world which contrasts deeply with my deep-seated funcrushing pessimism. I still know the words to this song by heart.
Now one might assume the reason that I have this burned into my subconscious is that I was forced to repeatedly sing this song on command in front of hundreds of strangers throughout my five years of elementary school and you would be partially right. Parents and teachers are often very fond of forcing unsuspecting children to dress up in goofy ill-fitting sport coats and ties and sing these type of sappy ballads at assemblies and recitals. It’s done because it re-affirms a sense of hope and decency in them when they hear their young children sing about “making the world a better for you and for me and the entire human race.”
Unfortunately, most children find these excercises not only grossly demeaning but unimaginably boring and tiresome. I was not immune. Generally, when I wasn’t on the verge of passing out from boredom, I was seething with jealous rage that some prissy little teacher’s pet was getting to sing a solo while I had to stand awkwardly next to the fat kid that smelled like rubber cement crammed onto the bleachers. (Clearly, I had issues.) For me, the song is deeply embedded in some of the mundane horrors of my childhood.
However, to say that’s reason why I know the song so well is false. My reasons for knowing it intimately extend beyond uncomfortable recitals. Michael Jackson simply didn’t write songs that were not deeply affecting and memorable. It just wasn’t in his DNA. “Heal The World” despite my unstinting cynicism is a great song and even though, I might mock, it has become part of my life. It evokes memories of childhood and the hope that world will better itself despite the odds. When Michael Jackson passed last week, I didn’t listen to “Thriller” and I didn’t listen to “Billie Jean.” The
first song I played was “Heal The World.” And I smiled. I hadn’t listened to the song in 15 years and I still knew every word.
