I wasn’t going to respond. I really wasn’t. But I just can’t let ignorance pass unanswered. It’s not in my D.N.A to do so (read: I have a big mouth.)

So, on Twitter and Facebook I’ve seen a bunch of tweets and status updates questioning the media coverage of Michael Jackson’s death. I’ve seen some interesting and responsible questions - Jessica Gottlieb, a Los Angelian (is that even a word?) asks, “Who’s going to pay for the police overtime incurred due to his memorial?” Fair question from a citizen of a state that is in dire straits. I can even get behind my friend Kriss’ questioning of people’s fascination with celebrities after death.

But what I can’t get behind are people suddenly questioning the media coverage like they just got here yesterday. Are you new? Did you suddenly think the media was going to change? Between his death and yesterday did broadcast news stop being a business and I somehow missed it while playing Animal Crossing?

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You want a glimpse into my life? You wanna see what I’m dealing with here on a day-to-day basis? Wanna know what it’s like to be me with these wonderful children and amazing husband? Well, I’ll tell you.

A few weeks ago, Kali and Jack were sitting on the floor right where the family room meets the kitchen when suddenly…

“Jack has a spider in his mouth!”

The owner, a short repulsive man built like a fire hydrant, slid from his bar stool and put an arm around her waist. He could see this from the corner of his eye and it caused him to grip the glass tighter.

“Are you ready, doll?”

Doll. What an insult. She was an angel. She was perfection. She was too good for this place with its chipped tables, smoky interior, and menu that consisted of buffalo wings, potato skins, and a curious dish called an Onion Bloom.

She walked by him in a wave of lilac. He inhaled deeply hoping the scent would last until she passed again. Some nights she’d walk the tables as she sang, occasionally pausing to pay special attention to a fortunate male patron. In three months, she had never stopped at his table. He did not mind. Unlike the others, who fawned over her with unabashed adoration, he did not need special attention. In fact, he preferred it this way. Anonymous. Special in its own way.

Previously on True Blood: Tara expresses doubt over her living situation at Maryann’s and Sookie asks Tara to move in. Jason fits in a little well at Jesus Camp. Pam, Eric, and Chow feast on Lafayette. Bill refuses to allow Sookie to help Eric. Sookie takes Jessica to see her family and all hell breaks loose.

And now…

Bill is driving like a vampire bat outta hell with Jessica crying in the backseat and Sookie’s dumbass riding shotgun. Sookie is apologizing saying that Jessica just wanted to see her family. Bill reminds her that Jessica is vampire and has no family. He chews her a new one and she flounces out the car like a petulant brat. It’s nighttime and they are in the middle of nowhere and vampires are real. More proof that Sookie is a moron. Jessica tells Bill that Sookie wants him to follow her, but he ain’t tryna hear that.

As expected, Sookie finds trouble in the woods. A big, horned man-animal chases her and claws at her back. She screams and Bill comes a-running. And we have credits…

Snap - The state police sent to pick up JD are killed. The killer drops off Jimmy’s unconscious body at the hotel. Abby goes to confront her Dad and realize it’s a trap. He is killed (but assures Abby he’s her Daddy before he goes) and Wakefield reveals himself.

Splash - The survivors try to set a trap for Wakefield, but Shane dies instead. Wakefield traps Cal and Chloe. He kills Cal and Chloe kills herself to deny Wakefield the satisfaction. Signs point to Wakefield not working alone.

Kali still believes in Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy. Well, not really, but we pretend that she does. This is funny since I was convinced that I wouldn’t be one of those parents to indulge such things. Then Kali started school and Santa Claus went from being some guy who works in the mall to the man responsible for providing my child with all the things she wanted for Christmas. That bastard.

I know she knows there’s no such thing as Santa Claus, and she knows I know she knows. That doesn’t stop us from leaving cookies and milk on the fireplace every Christmas Eve. I know she knows there’s no such thing as The Tooth Fairy, and she knows I know she knows. That doesn’t stop her from expecting $5 under her pillow the morning after she loses a tooth.