Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Sound of Death
As news of Michael Jackson's death travels faster than a speeding bullet, I cannot help but let you know what it is like working three blocks down from the hospital in which he died. There are probably 30-40 helicopters in the sky, constant police cars and fire trucks rushing down the streets with sirens blaring. People on the street are crying and there is a news correspondent on every corner. I am sort of scared for what it will be like trying to drive out of Westwood Village tonight. I feel kind of like how Henry Hill felt during that dinner scene in Goodfella's when he thought the copters were following him all day and he was driving around trying to trade silencers for coke and guns. The King of Pop is dead.