There are people in this world who cut such a grotesque figure that even death renders them ridiculous. And the more horrible the death the more ridiculous they seem. It's no use trying to invest the end with a little dignity-- you have to be a liar and a hypocrite to discover anything tragic in their going.
I'm wonder what Henry Miller would say about Michael Jackson's life and "going."
The above section (in bold) is an excerpt from Tropic of Cancer where Miller's talking about Peckover, a copy editor who fell to his death in an elevator shaft.
Despite the fact that his legs were broken and his ribs busted, he had managed to rise to all fours and grope about for his false teeth.
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