There was a half hour left to go. One of my summer school students stood at the front of the room delivering a presentation on a book by Chuck Palahniuk. We were all out of gas. It’s been a helluva long two weeks and four days. One of the girls pointed at her high dollar texting gizmo and shouted that Michael Jackson was dead. I asked her if she knew who Michael Jacks was. Before she could answer someone else said he was in the hospital. I dropped my head to my desk as just about all of my students pulled out their gizmos to find out whether Michael Jackson was dead or in the hospital. A lanky kid in a Black Sabbath shirt said he wondered if people holding tickets for Jackson’s upcoming tour would get their money back. Everyone soon agreed that Jackson was dead and not in the hospital. The kid up front went back to his Chuck Palahniuk presentation.
Steve McQueen turned down the role of Dirty Harry.
