Mommy, Can I Sleep Over my Pop-star Friend's House?
by brian c. turner
There is no other acceptable answer to this question but “NO!” One might say it’s not the constant mockery of his accused heinous crimes, which in this day and age is only for laughs and rarely satirical, that makes Michael Jackson so infamous. It’s Michael Jackson’s sick perverted self. . . Oh, and the monsters who feed him. Past accusations and legal matters concerning the moonwalker have always been a little suspicious to me in that they’ve had testimonial credibility but con-artist undertones. Hearing about the “zebra penis” was altogether shocking but incredibly easy to believe, especially when the King of Pedophilia refuses to bare it and prove wrong. Nevertheless, such riveting yet disturbing testimonies of the past have lost all merit once a settlement is made and Paul McCartney inadvertently turns “the Never Land Shuffle” into a Million dollar lap dance for Jacko courtesy of the royalties from “Yesterday.” There’s something different about the current accusation. These parents have claimed that they are in no way looking for a settlement but instead want Michael to legitimately pay for what I consider an evil, self-serving, infinite torture to his supposed victims. What occasionally goes unnoticed is that these children are victims of a “BAD” monster as well as incredibly poor parenting. Maybe they were living in a cave since Michael’s first nose job. . . that is still no excuse for being as neglectful as to let your children spend long amounts of time, we’re talkin’ weekends, with Michael Jackson.
First off, Celebrities are not babysitters, especially if they WANT to watch your kids. I don’t care who it is. They have bizarre illogical tastes and the recklessness and money to seek them out. Being celebrities, they are as crazy as we could ever dream of being without the law demanding we be in some sort of mental institution. Hollywood is practically the giant straitjacket for a portion of America’s insane. If it does break away like the rest of California is destined to do, I’m not throwing over the rope to pull it back, especially if Gary Busey is waiting to catch it on Arnold’s Island. Back to my point. . . Michael Jackson, the ultimate celebrity, is the current sleepover buddy of your child. I don’t care if it’s Julie Andrews asking if my kids can come over and make dresses out of her curtains, I would never let my children spend time with a celebrity. Let the stars ruin their own children’s lives.
Okay. . . maybe they weren’t quite aware that stardom equals dementia. Don’t they know a Pedophile when they see one? As Primetime Live’s cameras slowly scowled the Never Land grounds and house, I flashbacked to the time the carnival worker revealed his genitalia to us as we road through the FunHouse ride. Jackson had toddler-size dollies lined up and down his steps. If they're anatomically accurate, victims could show mommy and daddy where the bad man touched them on the way out. A Zoo, A Carousel, A Movie Theater. . . this is what happens when the creepy guy in the trench coat has too much money for simple bait like candy. Hansel and Gretel beware; there’s a new witch in town. He can dance circles around that gingerbread house and has to stay away from ovens or his face will melt. If at sometime during the trial, testimony reveals that these parents just dropped their kids off at the giant golden gates outside of Never Land, I’ve lost all faith in any theory of maternal instinct.
These current accusers were confronted by so many ominous signs, the most obvious being HE’S MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON. . . KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN!
There is no other acceptable answer to this question but “NO!” One might say it’s not the constant mockery of his accused heinous crimes, which in this day and age is only for laughs and rarely satirical, that makes Michael Jackson so infamous. It’s Michael Jackson’s sick perverted self. . . Oh, and the monsters who feed him. Past accusations and legal matters concerning the moonwalker have always been a little suspicious to me in that they’ve had testimonial credibility but con-artist undertones. Hearing about the “zebra penis” was altogether shocking but incredibly easy to believe, especially when the King of Pedophilia refuses to bare it and prove wrong. Nevertheless, such riveting yet disturbing testimonies of the past have lost all merit once a settlement is made and Paul McCartney inadvertently turns “the Never Land Shuffle” into a Million dollar lap dance for Jacko courtesy of the royalties from “Yesterday.” There’s something different about the current accusation. These parents have claimed that they are in no way looking for a settlement but instead want Michael to legitimately pay for what I consider an evil, self-serving, infinite torture to his supposed victims. What occasionally goes unnoticed is that these children are victims of a “BAD” monster as well as incredibly poor parenting. Maybe they were living in a cave since Michael’s first nose job. . . that is still no excuse for being as neglectful as to let your children spend long amounts of time, we’re talkin’ weekends, with Michael Jackson.
First off, Celebrities are not babysitters, especially if they WANT to watch your kids. I don’t care who it is. They have bizarre illogical tastes and the recklessness and money to seek them out. Being celebrities, they are as crazy as we could ever dream of being without the law demanding we be in some sort of mental institution. Hollywood is practically the giant straitjacket for a portion of America’s insane. If it does break away like the rest of California is destined to do, I’m not throwing over the rope to pull it back, especially if Gary Busey is waiting to catch it on Arnold’s Island. Back to my point. . . Michael Jackson, the ultimate celebrity, is the current sleepover buddy of your child. I don’t care if it’s Julie Andrews asking if my kids can come over and make dresses out of her curtains, I would never let my children spend time with a celebrity. Let the stars ruin their own children’s lives.
Okay. . . maybe they weren’t quite aware that stardom equals dementia. Don’t they know a Pedophile when they see one? As Primetime Live’s cameras slowly scowled the Never Land grounds and house, I flashbacked to the time the carnival worker revealed his genitalia to us as we road through the FunHouse ride. Jackson had toddler-size dollies lined up and down his steps. If they're anatomically accurate, victims could show mommy and daddy where the bad man touched them on the way out. A Zoo, A Carousel, A Movie Theater. . . this is what happens when the creepy guy in the trench coat has too much money for simple bait like candy. Hansel and Gretel beware; there’s a new witch in town. He can dance circles around that gingerbread house and has to stay away from ovens or his face will melt. If at sometime during the trial, testimony reveals that these parents just dropped their kids off at the giant golden gates outside of Never Land, I’ve lost all faith in any theory of maternal instinct.
These current accusers were confronted by so many ominous signs, the most obvious being HE’S MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON. . . KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN!
posted by handbasket at 12:08 PM
1 Comments:
the parents should be locked up too! i mean, c'mon people. what non-loony rational adult would EVER let their child sleep in the bedroom of a full grown adult (let alone michael fucking jackson for that matter!) unless this kid's dad was a defrocked catholic priest or the leader of the local cub scout troupe, then i can't see any logical reason to allow this to happen. the parents should be forced to drink "wacko jacko's" jesus juice then locked up for life.
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