Twenty-fifth anniversary of Michael Jackson’s Bad! Some of the songs on the record are total filler, but the record—which has been remastered and can be bought in a box set—has some serious classics. So come celebrate in the Panda Party!
This anniversary is, obviously, a lot easier on fans because Jackson is dead and not in any danger of being accused yet again of sexually assaulting children. Which is fine by me. I’ve always been a big fan of separating the art from the artist, and thus have zero problem believing someone could both be a pedophile and a great musician. Learning to hold two separate ideas in your head—“I love this person’s music” and “this person is a terrible person who should be in jail”—is a valuable skill. Ironically, it’s people who run to defend the musician from critics who need it the most. If they could accept that it’s okay to like someone’s music without liking the person who made it, for instance, they wouldn’t be out there doing things like minimizing the crimes of Roman Polanski and Chris Brown.