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Michael Jackson is Very Very Very Very…
April 2005


Warning: Dwanollah Hot Button Issue.

Michael Jackson is a pedophile.

He used to be a sweetly eccentric, boyish pop icon. Then he was a full-on weirdo. But it’s gone so far beyond “Wacko Jacko,” and it’s not even remotely amusing anymore. It’s sad to remember a time when the general public perceived Prince as more odd than him. But now, Michael Jackson is beyond weird. He’s beyond “wacky.” There’s a reason why the former Fametrackers named him Crazy, Evil, Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition Michael Jackson (aka C’est FUBAR). Hell, there’s a whole host of reasons! Mainly, because he’s fucked up beyond all recognition!

This ain’t eccentricity, y’all. This is fucked up.

The story of Michael Jackson is a horrific American Myth on a grand, Faulknerian scale, so extreme that you likely wouldn’t believe it if you read it in novel form: A haunting trajectory of family and the past in relation to man’s present actions. A certain victim of child abuse and gross family dysfunction, not to mention religious zealotry. A mishmash of varying narratives, constructed and reconstructed within varying frameworks. A cumulative inspection of a man being defeated by passions and ambitions beyond the scope of basic ethics and morals, and the reflection on Americanism in general it posits. A family estate, reflecting not only one man’s obsessions, insecurities and mores, but, as it crumbles, so ultimately crumbles an entire system of beliefs as well. A poor family’s desires to recreate themselves by creating a private world and a familial dynasty. Elusive racial implications and definitions. Unspoken horrors, abuse, torture, from children to animals to each other, all on an eerily gothic scale.

And a black man, so full of self-loathing for his own race/color/self, that he repeatedly mutilates his face and skin with frequent surgeries and has burn scars on his testicles from overzealous bleaching.

Anyone with 20/20 vision – hell, anyone with an IQ over 50 – should be able to see all of the problems manifested in Michael Jackson.

And Mike? YOU ARE NOT PETER PAN! No! Leave Peter Pan alone!

When that Martin Bashir documentary first aired, me and Parlance got together for a Telly Slumber Party. Par even brought over her Jermaine Jackson videos and I sprung for some super-grody ice-cream bars, because that’s what we thought we were in for… a night of giggles and good times. And instead?

Instead we both were so completely disgusted, so deeply disturbed that we both were ready to punch the TV screen …if we couldn’t punch Michael Jackson first.

After I saw the interview with the 12-year-old boy who Michael Jackson claimed was his “best friend,” the kid who now has brought child molestation charges against the self-proclaimed King of Pop, nothing, NOTHING can convince me that Michael Jackson is not a pedophile. The interview alone was proof enough.

I got into it with Gramma and Aunt Lois a couple days after the Bashir interview. They both wanted so much to believe that MJ is what he tells the public he is: just a little boy in a man’s body, reclaiming his lost childhood, and doing all these altruistically-motivated acts of charity because he genuinely wants to help children. They wanted to believe the best about him.


Sorry to burst the old ladies’ bubble, but no. Michael Jackson is a predator, a pedophile, a liar, and an egomaniacal cretin. To think otherwise is dangerous and stupid. The proof, in all its gruesome, too-obvious, Faulkneresque glory is right there, convoluted and problematic in parts, but still clear ‘neath the surface.

Ain’t it just so CUTE and CHILD LIKE?!

We’ll start with the egomaniacal bit. Most of MJ’s “charity” work is done well within the public eye, resulting in awards and honors and photo-ops with Nelson Mandela. Especially, how many times has Michael been oh-so-willing to help “heal the world” with his singles and videos? Not terribly altruistic if you consider that (ostensibly) keeps him on the charts and MTV. Not terribly original, either, when you consider that USA for Africa/“We Are the World” was shamelessly copying Bob Geldof’s “Do They Know it’s Christmas?” (Which was a better song anyway.) Michael’s songs-for-charity, if you look at the lyrics, are also pretty fucking self-centered for something that he claims is all about self-sacrifice. WE are the world, WE are the children, WE are the ones. Heal the world for YOU and for ME. What have I got that I can give? What more can I give? I’m looking at the Man in the Mirror. Me, me, me, me. Sorry, but I’m not convinced that the emphasis on these philanthropic ditties is on “giving.” What a bunch of self-important claptrap. Thriller Night is long over. It’s like everything he’s done since 1983 has been a parody of himself.

Then there are his bombastic and hubristic actions in the full, glaring eye of the media. Mike has courted the cameras and press since early on in his career. He continues to do so. He manipulates the public and media with more aplomb than most seasoned politicians. And the public buys it. But it’s not “Wacko Jacko” fun and games with the giant statue sailing down the Thames and the pet chimp and oxygen chamber and setting up entire floors of hotels with video games at his whim. This is how he behaves during serious court trials.

A court of law is NOT the place
for a victory dance,
Mary, King of Poppins!

He’s on trial for child molestation, and yet acts like he’s one of the atom-weight contestants going into a World Wrestling Entertainment Inc. lights-and-fireworks show, waving, mugging, smiling, flashing the “peace” sign to his dozen supporters, all in full view of the cameras, as if the magnitude of the case has completely gone over his wig’d head. He dresses like a ringmaster at the circus instead of a serious participant in a court trial, often unironically sporting medals and crests that have nothing to do with anything in relation to him. He is rude and unprofessional and immature, from jumping up and doing a pee-pee dance in the middle of testimony to interrupting proceedings to ask for a piece of candy… pretty much doing things that anyone else would get severely reprimanded for in a court of law. But he can get away with it, because he’s Michael Jackson! He’s the King of Pop!

Bananas in Pajamas

He is supposedly in so much dehabilitating anguish from back pain that he has to be rushed to the hospital (again) instead of getting to court on time, and not until the threat of arrest finally makes a light bulb go off does he stumble to the courthouse in his pajamas, soooo weak and in pain… but yet is still somehow able to turn and flash the peace sign and call “I love you more!” to his stupid supporters.

That kind of stuff, though, is subjective.

The pedophilia claim, however, is not. No no no no no. The evidence is all in the Martin Bashir interview, and anyone who doubts it is dangerously naïve. Period.


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