I always wondered what it would be like having an older brother. I haven’t always been the best one myself. Though I’ve made inroads, I know that in the past I was as nice to my younger brother as Diddy Puff is to ex-Bad Boy artists asking for their publishing back. That’s probably because despite having a great older sister, I never enjoyed the luxury of having my older brother bitch slap some kindness into me.
He died two months after being born — and six years before I came into a world of Michael Jackson hysteria (hence the name). In any event, though I never knew him, I always like to pretend I did. While he may be long gone, I think of him on his day.
Jason would be 30 today, and I being the smartass that I am, would be telling him to find a hill and roll over it. I would expect to be dropkicked afterwards. Yeah, that’s how I picture it happening.
May he continue to rest in peace.