Birds of a Feather

Michael Jackson, the scum of the earth butters you up. Can anyone imagine being Michael Jackson at the height of being Michael Jackson? That's rhetorical, OK, don't answer that! Things are good, you're the king of pop! The album that did it all: Thriller, a Quincy Jones masterpiece. You're loved by everyone then Bad comes out and popularity begins to wane. Dangerous is next and you're sinking sharp. The only fanatics that remain are the bottom of the heap, yet you're there too, even more bizarre. Your life is a zoo. Which has beckoned me to ask more than once, was it Vincent Price that did this to you?

Some day you will be remembered as the incredibly changing man, from black to white. We'll all be stumped by this in history, it could take mythic interpretations. Was it cosmetic or natural. So how weird is it when along comes Martin Bashir, a "credible" British journalist for the BBC comes along and promises a to exhonerate you then puts the move on you, "YOU'RE 'LOOKING SO SEXY"! What the fuck! Talk about uncomfortable!

Martin Bashir to MJ: "Women are going to be taking their pants off and throwing them at the screen".
From time to time you gotta feel bad for that terribly confused little boy-man who thinks he is Peter Pan.


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