In a relatively timely and remarkably respectful and mature two hours, the life of Michael Jackson was celebrated at Los Angeles' Staples Center among thousands of Jackson's fans, while being watched or downloaded around the globe by billions. The memorial, yanked off most major news servers the day after, is likely to arrive on DVD in short order as the rush to cash in n Jackson's death begins. While I found the memorial's emphasis on Jackson's artistic and social achievements to be appropriate, I winced at Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Texas)'s way-over-the-top canonizing of Jackson and the Congressional Black Caucus' introduction of a proclamation in his honor. I agree Jackson is most certainly innocent until proven guilty, but Jackson was also black only selectively and when it seemed to suit his purpose or the moment. I guess it's appropriate to celebrate his genetic disposition, but the model of Jackson's life was a man trying to escape the very family who celebrated him last week, if not the African American race as a whole (based on the emerging evidence of genetic hoodwinking and more lying on Jackson's part about the paternity of his children). I absolutely celebrate this man who has so inspired me over the years, but I prefer to do so with my eyes open. The louder flat note of the ceremony: notorious attention-seeker and comical black sheep LaToya's insistence on wearing a hat nearly as big as the Staples Center itself.