The Stomachache

On its surface, the Michael Jackson ruckus Thursday was another celebrity mini-drama, another crush of breathless media fascination (“And defense attorney Tom Mesereau is pacing, talking on his cellphone ... “), one more moment for the public to wonder, “Just how ridiculous is this going to get?”

But the stern judge’s ultimatums, the arrival of the slightly built Neverlander in his jammies, also took on an allegorical dimension, triggering comparisons with a familiar household classic: the parent’s early morning tussle with a recalcitrant child. Is that moaning a sign of illness or an attempt to avoid something unpleasant at school?

Jackson’s lawyer said his client was late to court because of a back problem serious enough to require hospital care. Jackson was facing a day of listening to his accuser’s testimony, which anyone would dread. But this isn’t akin to a 9-year-old dreading a math test -- he stands accused of a serious crime.

Viewed through a domestic prism, Superior Court Judge Rodney S. Melville seemed to catch a whiff of a thermometer held to a lightbulb to fake fever as he ordered Jackson to appear within an hour (“By the time I count to 3 young man ... “) or face arrest (time out) and revocation of his $3-million bail (no allowance this week). Even the outcome rang of a parent-child standoff: Jackson obeyed and sat through the testimony despite whatever was ailing him, but he didn’t show up until the count of 3 1/2 . The judge, like many a parent, softened, ordering no arrest.

In ways, it looked as though Melville was doing Jackson a favor that someone should have done long ago: Set a simple limit. Innocent or guilty, Jackson is the guy so lacking in prudence that he has dangled his baby off a balcony and admitted on national television that he shares a bed with young boys. He buys costly kitsch by just pointing at items as he passes by, with a greedy child’s quick disregard. His wealth and fame have put him sadly beyond the reach of people who would usefully tell him “no.”

No matter which way the child-molestation charges go, Thursday morning stands as one more cautionary Michael Jackson tale, this one about having to wake up in the morning and do what we don’t feel up to doing. Whether we like it or not, a lot of us are grown-ups, now.