Well, that's over. What'll we do for fun now?

Jay Leno will have only a few more years of Michael Jackson material. Media pundits will find something else to speculate about other than the state of mind of a man who's obviously not feeling well, considering yesterday's not-at-all-shocking acquittal on child-molestation charges. Jackson sure didn't look "very elated" or that "he'll be celebrating tonight." He looked like he was about to vomit. Expect lots of talk about American justice and L.A. juries, jokes that it was too bad Martha Stewart was tried in New York.

Soon, though, the talk will die off and the CNN-watching public will be spared - for a time - the spectacle of yet another SUV driving down the freeway, an image that accompanies every big news story that comes out of California.

Now ... the comeback.

Don't think it won't happen. Stranger things have.

One can imagine that Jackson will find inspiration from his brush with hard time, change his lifestyle, stop wasting time playing (innocently) with young boys, stop acting like a child himself and really get to work to record a new album whose revitalized songs will yield an even bigger hit than Thriller. To buy some time, he'll sell all those Beatles songs back to the Beatles - Paul McCartney's got to have $500 million kicking around. Then he'll mount a massive world tour and reclaim his title as the "King of Pop." There's even speculation he'll take a gig in Las Vegas. Imagine the Neverland theme casino. Kids stay free.

It'll take some work. It'll take more than an abject apology on Letterman or a "what were you thinking?" from Leno.

Some say Jackson's career ended long before any of this unpleasantness started - or, more accurately, in August 1993, when (different) allegations of child molestation surfaced. Up to then, he was on a roll. Even Oprah liked him. He wasn't putting up Thriller numbers, but he was loved by millions. His 1991 album, Dangerous, was considered a disappointment, but it stayed on the charts for at least two years and yielded a No. 1 hit, Black or White.

Then came the accusation, the lawsuit, the controversial settlement that made him look guilty. And then came HIStory. The double CD set contained many of his greatest hits and some terrific new material, but it was a flop of Heaven's Gate proportions. It got more attention for the lyric, "Jew me, sue me, everybody do me. Kick me, kike me don't you black or white me," than anything else. He changed the lyrics when Jewish groups complained, HIStory slid off the charts and the media focused on the much more interesting notion that the King of Pop may be a pedophile.

Something like that hanging over your head is bound to be a distraction from your music.

More years passed. Jackson's last studio album, Invincible, again did not live up to its title. It sounded knocked-off, stooping to such Milli Vanilli-isms as, "I cannot explain the things I feel for you. Girl, you know it's true." He lashed out again - this time at the media - with Privacy, asking the question: "Why do you go through so much to get the stories you need so you can bury me?" Ideas like this didn't prevent him from spilling his guts to Martin Bashir, of course.

Even vindication from an L.A. jury is no guarantee Jackson can overcome the worst press ever suffered by a celebrity. Neither Robert Blake nor O.J. Simpson are getting any work lately. But Jackson was a great entertainer once. Maybe he can be great again. Barring another lawsuit - in America, remember, one can be tried twice for the same crime - or more charges, Jackson is free. He can concentrate on his music with a clear head.