I don’t know if you guys have heard, but did you know Michael Jackson died?

It’s true. He did!

You’d think the media would be covering the story nonstop or something. It isn’t every day a white man who used to be black, who has had 532 plastic surgeries, who once had a pet monkey named “Bubbles”, who lived in a place called Neverland Ranch, who was once married to Elvis Presley’s daughter, who used to hang out with Macaulay Culkin and the kid who played Webster on TV, and who was “allegedly” a child molester dies!

(Oh yes, he also was a musician or something.)

Seriously, though. I kid because I really, really don’t care.

I’m saddened, truly, whenever someone dies, but people are taking this Michael Jackson Lovefest way, way too far. His life — for all his money, for all his fame, for all his musical accomplishments, for all his impact on pop culture — was a sad one.

That’s the real tragedy in all of this. It’s not that Michael Jackson died. It’s that he left this world lost and unhappy.

Yes, Michael Jackson was unhappy. He was unfulfilled. He was lost. It’s an unfortunate reality to think about, but it’s true. His last thought on this planet wasn’t, “Wow…I accomplished so much. I’m dying with no regrets.” No, it was more than likely something along the lines of, “This is it? It’s over?”

He probably also thought about Bubbles, his monkey, but I digress.

Everything in Jackson’s life pointed to a man who was searching for something. Look at all the crazy, insane, ridiculous stuff the man did in his lifetime. Those were not the actions of a happy, content man.

A happy, content man doesn’t get so many plastic surgeries he ceases to look human. A happy, content man doesn’t spend his adult years surrounded by children in the hopes of recapturing his own lost youth. A happy, content man doesn’t sleep in a hyperbaric chamber or with Lisa Marie Presley.

A happy, content man doesn’t do those things. A lost man does those things. A man who is searching, ACHING for happiness and contentment does those things.

Why does this matter, you ask?

I don’t know. I guess it matters because, despite all of this, people want to be like him. They want his life. Crazy and ridiculous as it may have been, there are people everywhere who envied Michael Jackson’s life.

They envied the life of a lost, unhappy, sad man who died too young because he was lost, unhappy and sad.

And that makes me sad.

Society as a whole envies the lives of celebrities, and yet many of those celebrities are miserable. They might walk around and act as though they are living the good life, but many of them are dead inside. They’ll someday die, with millions of dollars in their bank accounts and millions of fans mourning them; sad, unfulfilled and unhappy.

Somewhere in the world, a remarkable man or woman died the same day as Michael Jackson. But we didn’t hear about this person’s death on the front page of the newspaper. We didn’t see wall-to-wall coverage of their life on Fox News or CNN. They didn’t have Kobe Bryant, John Mayer, Brooke Shields or Al Sharpton at their memorial service.

Why? Because this person wasn’t famous. This person wasn’t rich. All this person did was live a long, fulfilled life that had an uplifting, positive influence on those around them. This person had no skeletons (or young boys) in their closet. And when they got to Heaven their Father said to them, “Well done, My good and faithful servant.”

I don’t know about the rest of you, but to me that is the life worth envying.