Pop Talk by George Varga

What's the difference between Michael Jackson and a dead cow laying on the side of the road?

The cow can't be milked anymore.

If that assessment seems exceedingly harsh and distasteful, it is. But not nearly as distasteful as the dizzying rush to cash in on the drug-fueled June 25 death of Jackson, an enormously gifted and tragic artist who seems to be even more exploited now than when he was alive.

The worldwide opening on Oct. 28 of "This Is It," a feature film compiled from 120 hours of rehearsals for his planned comeback to the concert stage, seems designed less as a celebration of his creative legacy than as an opportunity for an enormous payday. But it's hardly the only one.

In addition to "This Is It," for which Sony Pictures paid $60 million for an exclusive, two-week, worldwide theatrical run, there will be a DVD version, a two-CD "Greatest Hits" set and (just in time for Christmas) a Jackson-themed computer game. (Of, course, should the film fare especially well at the box office Sony will extend its run beyond two weeks.)

The title track for "This is It," a lightweight ballad Jackson and Paul Anka co-wrote and recorded in 1983 under the title "I Never Heard," was released this month (with newly added vocal support from Jackson's brothers).

It followed the publication of an "updated" version of "Moon Walk," his threadbare 1988 autobiography, and "Michael Jackson: The Remix Suite," which features remixes of 12 songs from his Jackson 5 and early solo career days.

There will be much more to follow, especially since there are an estimated 200 recordings by Jackson in various stages of completion. The quality of these unreleased songs is irrelevant. So is the crassness surrounding every new product — proposals for a Jackson winery and theme park are already being discussed — each designed to cash in while the public appetite for all things Michael is still at a high.

Still, his fatal comeback attempt (12 years after his last world tour) and its aftermath is instructive. It speaks volumes about greed, ego, pop culture and the fast-food aesthetics that place a premium on quantity and a quick payday above the creation of meaningful art.

Jackson, the self-proclaimed King of Pop and its biggest solo star for much of the 1980s, was only 50 at the time of his death. He died shortly before he was to fly to London for the first of 50 sold-out "This Is It" concerts at London's nearly 20,000-capacity O2 Arena.

Would Jackson, who often appeared frail and fragile in the best of times and had a history of drug dependency, have agreed to so many concerts if he not been in debt for (depending on the source) $80 million to $500 million?

After such a long layoff, would it not have been better for his health — physically, not fiscally— to do just a few shows, then slowly build up to more extensive performances, rather than commit to 50 concerts to begin with?

And were Jackson and the business interests encouraging his comeback more interested in his moneymaking potential than in his health and longevity?

"As far as Michael Jackson was concerned, I knew him well," said country music icon Willie Nelson. "We made music together and he was a good supporter of (the Nelson-led charity group) Farm Aid. I was sad to see what happened.

"But I think it's possible that, when you're a guy who can make so much money for so many, a lot of people are anxious to see that you stay out there (working).

And that can be harmful to your health sometimes."

Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron was more blunt.

"Michael Jackson was a unique talent who was corrupted by greed at a pretty early age," Cameron said.

"Watching him do the moon walk is electrifying to this day. But he was a prime example of someone living inside that show-biz bubble, surrounded by 'yes' men and not being told the truth. That's a big part of how the entertainment industry works: To try and keep the artist in the dark as much as it can. The culture of greed is what the entertainment industry is about, not good art."

Potential profit, if not greed, seems more synonymous with Jackson's name now than at anytime since his "Thriller" heyday more than 25 years ago.

AEG Live, the world's second largest concert and live events producer, spent at least $25 million to finance the production and rehearsals for Jackson's London shows. If those shows were successful — and there was no guarantee they would be, despite the swift sellouts — an extended world tour was set to follow.

"We have a three-year plan for Michael Jackson and if all goes well, we will gross $400 million in total," AEG Live president Randy Phillips told The Times newspaper in March, after a brief London press conference with Jackson (or, depending on the source, a Jackson look-alike).

In a savvy business move that helped AEG recoup a good amount of its hefty investment after Jackson's death, the company made an offer to the nearly 1 million ticket holders for his London concerts. They could choose between a refund or a special commemorative ticket with a three-dimensional image of Jackson. As many as half apparently opted for the commemorative ticket, which cost a fraction of what they paid.

Ticket prices started at $70. But an undisclosed number of premium tickets went for up to $700 each, through a deal AEG struck with Viagogo, an online ticket resale company. Viagogo reportedly also sold tickets near the stage for several thousand dollars each. AEG shared in the mark-up, just as it will now share in the "This Is It" film profits with Jackson's estate.

Whether Jackson would be pleased or appalled by his posthumous commercial appeal is a matter of debate to some, but not to Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, Jackson's confidante and spiritual adviser from 1999 to 2001. He is the author of the recent book, "The Michael Jackson Tapes: A Tragic Icon Reveals His Soul In Intimate Conversation," which is based on 30 hours of taped interviews conducted in 2000 and 2001.

"Michael's management didn't care about his credibility, only ticket sales," said Shmuley, who maintains his book is designed to provide insight into the "private" Jackson, not to cash in.

"Michael was driven by his insecurities. One of them was that he always had to outdo himself and that he was inadequate. So, he always had to go further, do more. But people don't understand how broken he was as a result of all the controversy, after the (two) trials (on child molestation charges). A lot of his fans don't want a human Michael Jackson; they want some divine figure incarnate in a human body."

The fact that Michael Jackson in his prime changed the face of pop music and culture is undeniable. So is the fact that, after the historic success of his 1982 album, "Thriller," he would spend the rest of his life trying — and repeatedly failing — to match, let alone surpass, its rare combination of musical excellence and generations-transcending appeal to millions around the world.

But with so many opportunists now seeking to exploit his tragic legacy, the use of "This Is It" as a film, song and album title has a hollow ring. Like "Ben," the four-legged subject of Jackson's 1972 solo hit, I smell a rat.

To find out more about George Varga and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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