When the news of Michael Jackson’s death hit, I was stunned to learn that he had, indeed, still been living. With no new accusations, allegations or trials of late, I just assumed he’d died awhile ago.
But, no. Until he officially died, he was apparently considered alive. Yeah, I’m being facetious here; as, of course, I’d heard of the 50 show tour planned for England wherein he’d milk the Euros and other gullibles with frequent flier miles to burn for one last money-printing hayride before finally fading into the background , he and Gary Glitter riding a two-headed eunuch llama toward a blazing red sunset, finally out of our lives forever.
Instead, he went knees up on the eve of his triumphant return; and now we’re hearing reports that the DEA wants in on the investigation, that his body was riddled with injection site marks, big pharmaceutical drug addict, as much as $48k/month for ‘scrip drugs, blah di dah di dah….
All very sad, very unfortunate; and the outpouring of grief has reflected all of this. From celebrities to so-called everyday people (hello, Sly Stone, you fucked up shit…), the masses have been tripping over themselves to make Michael Jackson out to be some sort of Christ-like victim of…what?
A love of kid-fucking? His own drug/booze excesses? The paparazzi?
Celebrities trill his praises when ambushed by third-rate ‘entertainment’ shows, saying how Michael was the greatest ever, how he influenced this and that, how great THRILLER was, etc…
The masses have gathered in the streets of Hollywood, Tokyo, London, New York, etc., and ALL have only good things to say, even if in the most language-mangling ways:
“Michael is now an angel! I love him! He didn’t do that stuff because I grew up listening to him; and in 6th grade, I wore a Thriller jacket and glove to school on Halloween, so no, OH NO!, he didn’t do none of that stuff because he loved kids and tried to help the world…….”
Yes, staryy-eyed apologists out there, he didn’t do that shit because you grew up listening to and emulating him. What perfect logic! Or at least it would be if it weren’t for a certain payout, reported numerous times by credible sources as being in the $20 million range- yet, in the wake of his demise, we aren’t hearing nearly enough about that, are we?
Sorry, folks; but no one scratches a $20 mil hush check if they’re innocent.
Read that last line again.
$20M.
More than most of us here, as a collective, will make in our lifetimes; paid to make a mistake just, poof!, go away. But, since he American legal system is set up to favor those who can meet the bottom line the accusers set, it’s essentially a “no harm, no foul” thing.
Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen; as, again, no one pays that kind of hush money if innocent, do they?
It just means that certain strains of parents are willing to sell their souls and the ‘taints of their young boys, to the highest bidder.
Not to make light of this; but, James Brown caught all sorts of legal shit for, if memory serves, beating one of his ladies with a pipe– and he couldn’t wriggle out of it.
And, while beating the chicks is in no way cool, it can be argued that, in a domestic situation, maybe they (the victims) might’ve seen it coming and could’ve done something to prevent it, be it leaving, a restraining order, or whatever.
The same CANNOT be said of starry-eyed children who got a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet their culturally fading hero. They don’t know his star was on the wane, or that his solo music was pretty much dated the moment it was released– and, being kids, they didn’t care.
Because, in addition to being innocent, most kids are fucking stupid. It’s their job, isn’t it?
Yes, and the recently minted Saint Michael not only knew that; but exploited it.
He asked us all to try and understand him because he had a rough childhood, with emotional and physical abuse at the hands of his father, Joseph– who is possibly one of the most creepy and scary fathers I’ve ever seen, so I can dig Michael being a bit bent out of shape from growing up under the authority of such a hideous dictator.
My Dad was an asshole, too.
I only had him in my life on a daily basis until just after my 8th birthday; and (REALLY, REALLY short version here…) this man I looked at as a hero llooked at me like I was the enemy. For whatever reason, I just tripped his alcohol-sotted mind; and whenever he needed to let out his rage, he went looking for me. Verbal abuse aplenty would’ve been enough (for me, anyway); but, he always followed up, at least once/twice a week with beatings that included closed fists, kickings with wing-tipped shoes and, one time in particular, a whipping with a belt buckle so severe (he’d caught me playing with matches as he came lurching home after a drunken Vegas weekend fucking someone, again, other than me Mom) as I cowered in the corner of my bed, that I not only had to be kept home from school for a week, but the bedroom had to be repainted to cover the blood spatters on the walls.
And, yeah, that was the short version.
Point is: Did I decide to go around fucking children, or in any way hurting others, using my shit father and upbringing as an excuse? No! And, no, this example was not intended to make this piece about me; but merely to illustrate that a lot of us have had hard lives that, at times, totally fucking sucked; but, we’ve gotten on, without frozen scrotums in our fridges or children hanging off our dicks!
We manage. We know what has happened to us, and we take the necessary steps to make sure we do not use our sad sack stories as a series of convenient excuses to just do whatever the fuck we want to a new generation of victims.
Why?
Because not all adults who were abused as kids are shit people; and, not everyone who was pushed around by someone they trusted will turn out to be a BTK, Dahmer or Gacy.
Or Michael Jackson. Giving booze to kids (“Jesus Juice”); showing porn to them, sleeping in the same bed, etc., etc….
Using his then internationally immaculate image to dazzle, exploit and, ultimately, wear down the still-forming minds of those who held him in the highest regard.
All for a few lousy orgasms.
Again, NO ONE would ever pay $20 million to keep quiet something that never happened.
Would you, if you hadn’t done it?
No! So, what kind of dipshit PR Kool-Aid-drinking mindset has befallen these faux-weepy camera-hog fuckwads that have traveled here from all over the globe, just to pay “respeck” to a guy who so wanted to be thought of as the eternal child, yet so hated children in general, that he actually fucked them to the tune of multi-million dollar payouts, through trials and all, just to taste that baby poon…?
And yet, no one in the legitimate media seems to have the balls to bring this up (sit down, Nancy Grace….). Instead, all we hear is “King Of Pop”, “Thriller”, and on and on…..
So let’s say a few things here: Michael Jackson was, as an adult, a bad, bad man. Who’s bad?
He was. He was fucking horrible. Don’t hold your breath waiting for Larry King, Anderson Cooper, Rolling Stone or anyone else on a national or global media scale to say this, as they won’t. Instead, it’ll be us retard bloggers, so take all this for what you will….
But, before I go, just one last thing, that might go on for a bit.
Again, Michael Jackson as an adult made a few good records (OFF THE WALL certainly didn’t suck; and “Billie Jean” had a great whomping bassline…); but, to me there is a great separation between the Michael Jackson people are donning gloves for and mourning in the streets and the Michael I choose to remember….
(And, note here: I’ve not even mentioned the Sony/ATV, Beatles catalogue thing– as there was just too much kid-fucker grist for the mill…)
The Michael Jackson I choose to remember is not the kiddie-teabagger grotesquerie that floated like dense shit to the surface once he stopped being culturally relevant.
That latter-day Michael was, then and now (ask my old high school friend, Doug) always a joke to me. Kabuki, mask-wearing Michael was an even bigger joke…..
But, before he went on to do the horrible things he did, the young Michael Jackson, along with his brothers, made some music that actually manages to transcend all the apocalyptic bullshit he brought upon himself later….
It’s weird, I mean really weird; but, in my head, there is a definite split when it comes to the Jackson Five, and solo Michael Jackson.
If a J5 song comes on the radio, all that hits me is their vocal brilliance; and it feels again like the summer after my Mom ditched my asshole Dad. Though not my favorite song by the Five, I always keep going back to the “la-la-la-la-la-la…” background vocals in “I’ll Be There” as my favorite moment in their canon. God, they were fucking great….
And then we play all that happened afterward against that early and innocent canvas, and you just wanna ram your head through a wall….
The break-dancing apologists crying in the streets for the benefit of the news cameras; the drunken bloggers like me, and all the rest of us…..
We can all only guess; which might be unfair, I suppose.
But, I’m guessing we’ve all, at one point or another, undertipped a waitress when the service sucked; just as we’ve also overtipped a bit when the service was good, right?
A few extra dollars here and there ain’t exactly TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS just to silence someone you claim you did no harm against.
But, no one wants to talk about that, as it involves facts. So, instead, let’s all raise our voices in revisionist history! After all, if we’ll let a celebrity pedophile slide by and be canonized in death, then I guess it just makes good sense to let off the hook all the other celebrities who only choose to put him higher up on the cross, and all the idiot fans massing in the streets, karaoke-ing and dancing to the boomboxes, and denying all the while the sad truths with which they cannot be bothered….
