No seriously. This is not nice. If you are easily offended, read no further. I’m about to say some stuff that’ll probably truly disturb you. I’m gonna say some very vulgar stuff. It’ll maybe shake you up about an all too familiar whipping boy of these here continental United States. That’s right I’m talking about…Michael Jackson (http://www NULL.msnbc NULL.msn NULL.com/id/7432724/).
Ok. Now. Here’s my thing. I’m starting to feel shame every time I listen to a Michael Jackson song or think about how much money I’ve spent on related material. I’m like “wow…have I been inadvertedly funding child molestation since 1990?” (some people feel the same way about a tithe) Its like the PSA that was on long ago with children giving testimonials about how they “crash planes into buildings” because they bought pot and thus funded terrorism. This time its me holding copies of Thriller and Off The Wall going “I fondle child actors. I molest cancer patients.”
Michael is truly a brilliant performer. He has defined what it means to be a pop star and his live concerts in the 80s and 90s were nothing short of genius. There is a thin line between genius and insanity. If you’ve ever seen footage of him talking about his plastic surgery, he adamantly denies ever having more than 2. 2? 2! Most people find that very hard to believe, but when he says it you can see he does. He believes it wholeheartedly. The same belief shines through when he speaks to people’s issues of his spending time with boys and the sharing of his regal bed “Its not impure. Its about love. Its not about sex. Why would I do that?” Hmm…
Michael may very well have a split personality. There’s Good Michael and there’s Bad Mikey.
Good Michael is the one who invites kids over to play all day long with llamas and Ferris Wheels.
Bad Mikey is the one that serves kids wine at night when they are exhausted. He allegedly called it “Jesus Juice.”
Good Michael invites kids into his studio to listen to music and watch him dance.
Bad Mikey watches kids dance with the help of a strategically placed pole in a studio back room.
Good Michael shares pies, cakes and assorted sweets with kids while they all get messy with yummy goodness.
Bad Mikey sticks his fingers in little boys like they’re bowling balls when they crash from the sugar.
Then in the morning Michael wakes up and thinks all was good and pure, but the children sing a different story.
There’s a part of me that wants an overwhelming amount of evidence to be found just so the damn thing is over. I mean I hope Michael is innocent (false hope?), but there’s a part of me waiting for a former employee to come forward and tell the court about the Lair. Then the police will find a dungeon beneath the ranch with naked missing Boy Scouts chained to the walls with bruises on their bodies. When the police start to release the poor scouts who are barely concious, echoing screams of “No More Love!” will reverberate throughout the dungeon. Suddenly, a drum starts to beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Kids will start climbing down walls and appearing in corridors like the Orcs in Lord of the Rings. They start shootings arrows and throwing boomerangs and dildos while proclaiming “Leave them be! They defied Messiah Jackson!’ It will then escalte to a Waco – Koresh like standoff between Jackson and the police.
And when I see it on the news and hear them refer to the “Jackson Compund,” I’ll think to myself “Finally. Some Closure.”