David Letterman frequently says he wouldn’t give a tragic figure’s troubles to a monkey on a rock.

Many in Oklahoma say it another way — but for the grace of God, there go I.

That’s mostly what I have to say about Michael Jackson, although for the last two weeks, many commentators said this: “I wouldn’t want my kids around Michael Jackson.” And Congressman Peter King, R-N.Y., said that Jackson was no more than a pervert and child molester, not worth “glorifying.”

Obviously, King wouldn’t want his children in the same room with Jackson.

I wasn’t an MJ fan. I appreciated his music, but I liked John Denver and James Taylor a lot better. Listening to them, I didn’t have this image — sorry, Jackson fans — of somebody grabbing his crotch as he danced and sang.

My mother told me not to grab my crotch. She said they make a powder for that.

And really, grabbing your crotch should be a functional thing — you know, like baseball players, to get things positioned for action or comfort — not artistic comment.

Which incidentally, brings up the question, why do baseball players have so much trouble arranging equipment down there? Football is much more active than baseball, and footballers don’t grab their crotches after every run and tackle. Maybe baseball ought to check into the equipment football uses. It would make at bats go much more quickly and move the game along.

As far as Michael Jackson’s game, King is positive Jackson was a pervert. I don’t know.

I wouldn’t leave my children with him, either, but then, there are a lot of people I wouldn’t leave my children with: Gene Simmons, Mick Jagger, Ozzy Osborne.

I wouldn’t want my children adopted by Madonna, even though she has money. I’m not sure what seeing their mother dancing in her underwear would do to them psychologically.

I wouldn’t leave my children at Michael Vick’s house even if he told me he’d gotten new dogs. And I wouldn’t want my kids coming home from A Rod’s place, or Manny’s, Sammy’s, or Barry’s. I don’t trust the juice they may have served there.

I think John F. Kennedy and Bill Clinton were good presidents, but I sure would not have wanted my daughter working as an intern in those administrations.

And golly gee, I wouldn’t want my children working for Sarah Palin either, you betcha. I wouldn’t want them coming home saying they were going to quit the family because by quitting they could serve even better, especially when they were doing so well at the family job they were doing, and quitting was more honorable.

And I wouldn’t want my kids around Eliot Spitzer, John Edwards, John Ensign or Mark Sanford. I’m sure they’re wonderful fathers — when they aren’t visiting a hooker, a mistress or the love of a lifetime.

Yes, I wouldn’t want my children around plenty of people, and to tell the truth, sometimes my children probably would have been better off not being around me.

I don’t want to talk about those times.

And perhaps, at those times, my children would have been better off being with Rep. King, but I wouldn’t want my children with King either. It’s OK to be critical, but it’s another thing to reduce a man’s life and value to some simplistic standard that no man has the ability to meet.

Michael Jackson was certainly bizarre.

And it’s good that God didn’t give many of us great talent because we, too, might be grabbing our crotch and covering needle tracks on our arms. I wouldn’t wish Jackson’s or his families’ troubles on a monkey on a rock.

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