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I thought Michael Jackson was a woman the first time I saw him. No, really, I did. I was in third grade when my class watched one of his performances on a big screen in the auditorium, and I saw a white person with long hair and a high-pitched voice, unlike anyone I'd ever encountered.  I should note that I'd only been in United States for a few months, having spent most of my childhood in a poor Russian neigborhood with little access to American music or television. Needless to say, there was no one quite like Wacko Jacko in Russia.

I started getting into Michael Jackson's music when I began listening to more and more hip-hop and R&B in the mid-'90's and recognized the influence he had on my favorite artists. At one point, I played "Man In the Mirror" on a continuous loop in my car, hoping to gather the nerve to ask a girl I liked to the prom (it worked).  And then came "Your Rock My World" during my freshman year of college. The boy bands were desperately trying to hang on to a last shred of relevance, and Jackson blew them out of the water with a classic song that only he could pull off -- I mean, honestly, who says "you rock my world" besides Steve Urkel?  No one could resist getting on the dance floor when it came on during a party, and it still puts me in a really good mood any time I hear it (think D'Angelo "Untitled").

Like every other fan, I'll miss you, Michael.  Anyone who gets down to R. Kelly's "Ignition" gets a pass from me for any of his other troubles. Rest in peace.