I am up here in Rock Heaven watching all of the ceremonies about Michael Jackson. God bless Michael but I keep hearing that we were virtually one and the same.
Michael and Elvis. Michael and Elvis. Sorry folks, but I’m damn sick of this.
Let’s start by remembering that I was an original. When the Lord makes originals, he throws away the mold. So Michael and I could hardly be one and the same, or some such thing.
Also, I was THE King before Michael was born. How the hell did he get to be the king? Don’t give me, one is the king of rock and one is the king of pop.
Would you tell that to Louis XIV?
Did we have some things in common? How the hell would I know. I was an original and originals don’t look over their shoulders at others. We do it our way. If others copy, so be it but I never had the time or the inclination to notice.
A few more things. Everyone says Michael broke barriers. What did I do, walk into loving arms? Ed Sullivan said I couldn’t shake my body on his show. I said, Eddy boy, if you want THE King, he comes with shakes. Take it or leave it.
People say I was nuts because I shot my gun at my TV. Hell yes. I liked that, I could afford it, and I bought a new TV when one was broken. What I did with my time and my money was no one’s business but mine.
Nuts? I think anyone who just obeys someone else’s stupid boy scout rules is nuts. Life is short. Live it your way.
Now that Michael has passed, everyone is piling on, saying I cut my life short. That I was a car accident.
A damn zillion people listen to my music, visit my home, celebrate my birthday, impersonate me at every night club from Vegas to Tokyo.
You call that a car accident?
Look, I was never down there where you are now to wind up in a seniors’ home. I was there to blow the house down. And that’s what I did. My movies packed them in, my music sold out like hotcakes, my signature on anything made it worth $1 million.
Car accident? I bet you wish I would sell you the instructions for making one.
Look, I’m fine up here with my crown and my memories and a group of people, all originals, that I hang out with. No one calls me Elvis. To them, I am THE King.
See you soon.
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