Good morning, PopWatchers! News flash for you: James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, is still dead! Not that I’m making light of that by any means — it still makes me super sad. But I’m made even more depressed by the fact that the music icon still hasn’t been allowed to rest in peace. If you haven’t been keeping track (perhaps you’ve been focusing on all that Anna Nicole noise), here’s a quick summary: Brown passed away more than two months ago, and yet, thanks to all sorts of legal wrangling and paternity and DNA issues, he still hasn’t been buried! Madness! I mean, we all know he was the hardest working man in show business, but that’s gotta end sometime, right? When he stops, you know, living is probably a good time to call it a day, don’tchathink?
Look, this is a very serious matter. The whole scenario greatly disrespects the dearly departed and runs the risk of tumbling into a Ted Williams-esque farce. Which nobody wants. Sure, the baseball player’s post-mortem cryogenic history will never tarnish his on-the-field legacy, but it comes close — it adds an unfortunate little footnote to his biography. Same goes for Brown, whose legend is, we hope, secure. It’s just that, while the music left behind by some of our biggest stars ought to withstand the circuses surrounding their deaths (think: Gram Parsons), it’s a shame we have to go down that road again.