Like seemingly every other child of the Reagan years, I loved Michael Jackson. Not only will I miss the man but also the era over which he strode like the Colossus of Rhodes: the '80s. 

Those were simpler times, before the scandal crazed 24/7 news cycle turned all our larger than life heroes into mere mortals. Not only did we not question Michael Jackson for literally carrying 13 year-old boys up with him onstage at awards shows, but we actively encouraged him to do so. This quote is from a 1984 People Magazine profile of Emmanuel Lewis: "Despite their 12-year age difference, Lewis' mix of savvy and innocence makes him a well-suited companion for Jackson." Today our minds are so in the gutter that we automatically assume the only men who take interest in young boys are perverts of some kind.  Only a glutton for punishment would volunteer to be a scoutmaster or a Big Brother today, and our young boys lose positive male role models in their lives as a result.

 In the '80s, Rob Halford of Judas Priest could deck himself out in S&M gear, Freddie Mercury could front a band named Queen and Boy George could dress in drag all without raising an eyebrow. Compare that with today where male celebrities who seem even a little effeminate like Clay Aiken and Adam Lambert are hounded by the media until they come out of their respective closets. What is so terribly wrong with privacy and is it really any of our business which gender our favorite celebrities prefer to sleep with?

Back then, movies were magical.  Films like The Empire Strikes Back, Raiders of the Lost Ark and E.T. took us on two hour thrill rides and left us wondering how they did that. Director commentaries and  the making-of features on our favorite DVDs killed the magic forever and we now know in excruciating detail all the behind the scenes machinations that go into making the impossible appear real. 

Professional wrestling? We believed it and made Hulk Hogan our Michael Jordan. And Hogan's 24 inch pythons--his nickname for his biceps? Those were the result of drinking dozens of egg whites and spending hours in the gym. We believed in concepts like hard work back then. Steroids were something East German female swimmers used, not an all-American boy like Hogan.

Michael Jackson reigned over this innocent era like the Wizard did over Oz.  But ever since his Thriller peak, we've become more obsessed with poking at the foibles of the man behind the curtain than in enjoying the exquisite moonwalks and vocal stylings he entertained us with for decades.

For a day at least, let us honor the entertainer and enjoy the magic that was once part of show business. We have the rest of our lives to be cynical.