I can see you!

I have at last figured out what's wrong with me. During the wholly unrequested encore presentation of the wholly unrequested Michael Jackson interview program, I, through one means or another, ended up in the same room it was being watched. And precisely my problem is, is that when I heard the answers given to the questions asked, my mental response was essentially “alright, that makes sense. What's wrong with that?” This means that for all voyeristic purposes, I UNDERSTAND MICHAEL JACKSON. I'm no longer confused. I'm not baffled anymore. I've seen other people who think they understand Michael Jackson and yes, they are some of the more scary people I've seen. But that all came about because “his music speaks to me!” (no, not me) My understanding must be deeper because, you know what? I hate Michael Jackson's songs. Some of the eighties stuff was alright, I suppose, but look what I have to compare it to. Ugh, I probably like that, too. You know what, I hereby excuse myself from any opinions I've formed on things I was exposed to during the eighties, because they simply don't make sense. I can recall playing Air Fortress and enjoying it. That's just not right.

I always used to hate Michael Jackson, but it turns out it wasn't because of his songs. I still don't like his songs any better than before, but now that The Media at large has turned against Michael Jackson, I actually find myself feeling sympathy for the pale-skinned gender-neutral creature. Really. I'm going to start calling him Mike Jackson, just to show my support, or something. For years, past all the weirdness, I'd heard nothing but praise from the non-comedian sector of the disgusting California people I hope I never meet. It took a BABY BEING DANGLED OVER A RAILING to make the whore-worship foundation include Michael Jackson in the same category as Anna Nichole Smith and professional wrestlers without film careers. And who the plork are these dopes to be judging anyone, anyway? The same people who expect me to care when they report that “Britney will bare skin, not wear skin” can find it in them to laugh at people who watch Joe Millionaire. And now they don't like Michael Jackson, either.

Remember a few years back, when he was named “Male Artist of the Millenium” by some worthless music award commitee? Tell me please how that could have gone to anyone but Wolfgang Amadeus Amadeus, Amadeus Mozart if they were judging on actual merit. Because they really were including everyone from the past thousand years, and weren't just saying “millenium” to sound tReNdY, right? I like other composers better, but the man wrote like 18,000 songs. I don't think anyone else has even come near that in my obscenely exaggerated estimate making mind. Certainly, the few that were actually worth hearing have been overplayed to a homicidal rage inducing extent in the backgrounds of our "funny" movie trailers, but when you consider that he's been dead for centuries, I think that says a lot more than a couple of dancing zombies (they weren't very talkative, were they) in what was, granted, the most over-exposed music video ever. Stuff like that only happened because they wanted pre-Wacko Jacko (how they ever managed to get through the last twelve years without hearing that once, so that they can still think themselves horribly clever when using it in a headline I can't fathom) to forgive them for even hinting that he might have done something not respectable to the children he sleeps with. But then he released another album, and I guess they forgot. The same thing happened with Eminem. The one lesson that Slimmy McMarshters or whatever his real name is learned from all this is spousal abuse, mass profanity, being generally whiny, and doubtlessly something worse I'd know of had I actually heard any of his material = good. Saying bad stuff about gay people = veritable blacklist. So he released another album with that in mind, and all was forgiven.

So now that it's socially acceptable to despise Michael Jackson again, I can't help but make more and more sense of his situation. He aquired millions and millions of dollars through endeavors not the least bit deserving of such payments, and instead of running for president, he hides in his personal amusement park and plays Adobe Photoshop with his facial features. So the problem here is what? Oh, so he denies he's had a lot of surgery done. David Blaine denies he's Satan. How're these two denials so different? Jackson's not dangling the baby anymore, and even if he was, it's his baby, so he can do whatever he wants with it. And those other kids are only sleeping in his bed because THEIR PARENTS gave permission for it.

Michael Jackson acts unusual because people let him act unusual. I'd do the same thing. Maybe not the same things, but it would definitely make people question my sanity. Have you seen the clothes he wears? No one else dresses like that! Have you seen that picture of him playing with the magnifying glass in the court room? No one else plays with magnifying glasses in courtrooms! And... and... why not? No one ever said “no, don't do that” to Michael Jackson until it was already too late. Some people just don't know any better on their own. Seriously, one of these days he's going to transform into a unicorn, just because there's no law that says he can't. And the next day, “no no no. 44 year-old men can't be going around transforming into unicorns.” Well, he already did. He's a unicorn. And good gumdrops, now he's bleeding pirates. Are you going to stop him, or are you just going to complain?

Someone thought they were being *REALLY* funny when they made this, alright.
Caricature artists make everyone look evil.
I have to see this EVERY SINGLE TIME I USE THE INTERNET. I've been collecting them, and I make no error when I say that in excess of 90% mention Britney Spears, Jennifer Lopez or a contradiction to the “latest study” story they ran last week.

Trust me, they get a lot worse than this, I just particularly liked the contrast between the main headline and the “other news” on this one.

Naw, *HE's* not gay.  And neither is the unicorn. “Rapper Eminem,” easily the stupidest name in any other profession, tries desperately to convince anyone that he's still worth being offended by. Did you think I was going to have M&M wrapper as the picure, out of some weak desperation to make a joke? So did I. Gosh, I'm predictable. So you see, that's precisely why I didn't.

''LIKES: Rainbow colors, games, butterflies, discovering something, dreams.  DISLIKES: Hesitation, Bad smells, Bullies'' Verbatim, somehow. A unicorn, one of the few fantasy creatures designed less creatively than elves. Come on, it's a horse with a spike lodged in it's forehead. Am I supposed to be impressed that it survived the attack, or what? Call me again when you find one where the pointy part is facing down.