Beat It (Please)

The title of one of Michael Jackson's songs, Beat It, seems appropriate commentary regarding the extensive mindless drivel that has flooded the airways since last Thursday and beat us all into submission: all right, already, I'll turn off the TV and go outside and do something, anything to get away from the endless drone of ill-informed news readers forced to make a story where there are no details, no updates, no concrete information of any kind beyond what has already been endlessly aired!

Most especially irritating and ingratiating are the interviews with what I fondly refer to as the "Seven Degrees of Separation" interviewees, the people who once upon a time long ago had some sort of contact with MJ and have a treasure trove of trivia to share with today's audience, none of which has any importance, impact, and/or relevance to the last 40 years of his life, much less his recent death. For instance, the man who was a manager somewhere along the line but has not seen/contacted MJ in the last oh, say, 20 years. And his comments are relevant how?

Yeah, the on-camera talent is covering their beat, beating the bushes for new information, and beating a dead horse (sorry, no disrespect intended) to be the first on-air with something, anything that beats the competition. Often the soundtrack playing behind the coverage is Beat It, which is what they all should do: go home until there is news to report, something other than the earth-shattering gasp of disbelief when Michael Jackson's father showed up on the red carpet at last night's BET Awards. Talk about the day the Earth stood still while the on-air talent went into a filming frenzy.

Updating for those who do believe that death comes in threes, Gale Storm, 87, passed away a couple of days ago. I can still see her face, her black hair, and her oddly slanted eyes. When I recall her TV career, I think in terms of perky and quirky. Billy Mays, 50, also died in his sleep after a deplaning interview about things falling on his head during an unusually rough landing in a US Airways flight. A sudden, unexplained death involving one's head being pummeled with falling luggage from an overhead bin doesn't raise alarms, but the not altogether unexpected death of a drug addicted pop star does? Reality check, please. And the third death is that of Fred Travalena, 60-something, in Las Vegas, another impressionist with a huge casino lounge career who never made it as big as Danny Gans, who unexpectedly died in his sleep several months ago.

Is there a serial killer murdering sleeping male impressionists in Las Vegas? Stay tuned for breaking news updates as more information either becomes available or we create it in our newsroom.