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June 26, 2009 - Friday
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Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Dear Mr. Jackson,
Now that you're dead, can I have your ferris wheel?
Sincerely,
Frot13 in CA
Is this the kind of disrespectful garbage I am to be inadvertently subjected to while illegally screening mail to Neverland Ranch?! You greedy punks!
I don't know if it was the ten plastic surgeries in eleven years that turned out to be not so good for him, and I'm positive that his strict vegetarian diet didn't help anything, but I thought that the hyperbaric chamber would balance the other nonsense out. Poor, sweet Prince Michael (the dead one, not the baby who was almost gravity-filleted on a German sidewalk)! You were taken from us too soon!
I wanted us to see "Thriller" go Platinum 28 more times over. I wanted to see what your adorable face would look like after ten more takes. I wanted to see if maybe the third time would be a charm for not falling hapless victim to malicious profiteering parents entrapping you with their supple, milky-skinned 13-year-old sons. I wanted to watch one more sunrise with you, Michael.
I don't care how much alcohol those lying little snot-noses finked that you fed them while referring to it as "Jesus juice," or where they alleged you touched and kissed them, or how accurately they fabricated a description of your genitalia. I don't care that other black men with vitiligo usually use make-up that matches the color of their skin to cover the pale blotches instead of using a color that matches the pale blotches to cover the rest of their skin. It doesn't matter to me how violently I shudder at any displayed image of your horribly disfigured likeness, or how many different kinds of teacup rides a 40ish-year-old black guy who thinks he's a ten-year-old white kid can give a child at his amusement park-disguised compound, our own national monument to child grooming. I don't mind because I haven't been able to get "Billie Jean" out of my head since 1983.
Billy Johnson, Jr. of "Hip Hop Media Training" calls Jackson "the greatest of all time," and states that "[His] legacy cannot be erased by even the most horrible of charges and allegations. His music and performances are historic and forever engrained in our hearts." So, Mr. Johnson rationalizes that a musician need sell 28 million units at most to be awarded a mother's type of unconditional love.
Raise your hand if you think the American judicial system is infallible. Now, if your hand is up, lower it before someone sees you being stupid. I can't trust twelve of my generally-idiot peers to go or stop when directed at a lighted intersection. (The reader is exempted from such generalized insult. If one is demonstrating the desire and will to enlighten himself to and experiment with the author's eloquent wisdom on tap, then he is already displaying himself head and shoulders above his less intellectually-fortunate brethren.) When two people disagree on the verdict of The People of the State of California v. Michael Joseph Jackson, one says, "He's guilty!" and the other says, "He's innocent!" but what they're really thinking is, "He's guilty!" and "I really don't want to believe he'd be guilty!" Remember, please, that due process and the legal system is not fair, but only the fairest thing we could think of. If you find a goldfish missing from your aquarium, your finger reasonably points right toward the thing that looks like your pet cat.
Michael Jackson did that shit. I don't care how many albums he's sold or which hit single of his you had your first kiss to. Just like O.J. Simpson did that shit, regardless of how many yards he rushed in a single season. The bread in my pantry is moldy and I can't eat it anymore, no matter how good I remember it smelling on the store shelf six months ago. Obversely, maybe if Jeffrey Dahmer had had an exceptional marketably entertaining talent, he'd still be working at a chocolate factory today (and, ironically, still fondling thirteen-year-old Milwaukee boys).
Remember Sinead O'Connor? All she did was rip up a photograph of the pope and people were driving over piles of her CDs in the streets. What Michael Jackson was multiply "alleged" to have done to those children, while molding himself to such a perfectly suspectable profile for such crimes, is one of the most heinous and despicable things a person could do. "I saw O'Connor tear up that picture with my own eyes. Nobody saw Jackson getting his frottage on with any boys." If you're not absolutely sure that you can trust your husband or wife, then you don't at all. If I was formally charged of child molestation, but acquitted in a court of law, I should not be required to register as a sex offender, but you should not hire me to babysit.
Michael Jackson was a dazzling piece of talent who turned out to be a bizarre and disturbing bad apple behind the bravado. He should be reduced and reconciled to the same level at which you and I are; nothing more. He shouldn't be shielded from public anger and capitulation by wealth and fame. He shouldn't be embellished in death as anything greater than he actually was when he was alive. And he definitely shouldn't have been so selfish as to steal the light from Farrah Fawcett.
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