Welp, Michael Jackson died. What can you even say about that? Like many, he was a hero of mine and then he was kind of a monster. It was probably a good learning experience to have to reconcile those two things at a young age. It's hard for me to feel sad that he died since the guy was clearly in nearly constant emotional pain. Also he maybe molested children.

Anyway, here's me in March 1985 dressed up as him:

That's me in my Michael Jackson Thriller jacket (in black – though I wanted the red and black one), a glitter glove (in red, I wanted white like Michael had), a Michael Jackson microphone that I can't find the name of (“Mr. Microphone”?) – it transmitted your voice to an FM radio station so your voice would come out of the stereo.

And I can't tell from the crappy quality of the photo if those are my sparkly Michael Jackson socks. Once I wore them ice skating and my feet went numb as the glitter material cut off my circulation. I remember sitting in an arena penalty box, crying as an older kid helped me pry off my skates, revealing my sparkly white Michael Jackson socks. She wasn't impressed.