[Randy Spencer is on vacation. This week is the 7th anniversary of the death of Michael Jackson. This article is repeated from the March 19, 2014 issue of Coverage Opinions.]

Not many people know this, but in the early 1980s Michael Jackson had grown tired of a lifetime in the music industry and was looking for a new challenge. His was a career into which he had been born. And because of that he had always wanted to chart his own course. A fire had long been burning in Michael’s belly to get into the insurance claims business. By 1982 it was an inferno that he could no longer control. The time had come for him to pursue his dream. Michael broke the news to Quincy Jones that the recording sessions for Thriller were off. Jones, who had just had a homeowner’s claim denied, and was in a foul mood toward insurance companies, convinced Michael that the insurance industry was no place for someone so sensitive.

So with a heavy heart Michael went into the studio and recorded Thriller. And as everyone knows, it went on to become the number one selling album of all time. But despite Thriller providing Michael with unimaginable wealth and fame, he was never able to stop thinking about the career in claims that never was. All agree that Michael was a tortured soul. And there has been much speculation why. This is it.

As Michael lay awake at night during that post-Thriller period, thinking about concurrent causation and the pollution exclusion, it was inevitable that “Beat It,” his new and wildly successful song, would come on the bedside clock radio. And as he listened to himself telling a wanna-be tough guy to avoid a fight he can’t win, a different set of lyrics ran through his head. But he kept them bottled-up inside. It was only after his untimely and tragic death, when his Neverland Ranch was being cleaned out, that a folded up piece of loose leaf paper was discovered deep in the back of a desk drawer. On it were scribbled the lyrics of “Beat It” that Michael had long dreamed to sing:

We told you don’t you ever make a claim around here
Don’t wanna see your loss, you better not mess up our fiscal year
There’s disclaimer in our eyes and our letter’s very clear
So beat it, just beat it

You better file somewhere else, better do what you can
You ain’t gonna see no money, in your lifespan
You wanna push back, but we’re the size of Hoover Dam
We tell you beat it, but you seem to have no attention span

Just beat it, beat it, don’t get on our balance sheet-it
Our bank account will not be depleted
Showin’ how funky and strong is our fight
It doesn’t matter if we’re not exactly right
We still won’t pay for your dog bite
Just beat it, beat it
Our money’s so well secreted

We’re out to get you, better get another quote while you can
Don’t wanna be uninsured, for your mini van
You wanna stay covered, and not end up as broke as Ed McMahon
So beat it, just beat it

We’re here to show you that we’re really not scared
If you get water in your basement that ain’t no time to be unprepared
And if we finally pay your claim you’ll have an uninsured share
So beat it, we need to stay a billionaire

Just beat it, beat it
We will not be defeated
We’ll keep you off our balance sheet-it
Don’t make us have to repeat it
Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it

That’s my time. I’m Randy Spencer. Contact Randy Spencer at

Randy.Spencer@coverageopinions.info