Friday, 26 June 2009

Incredibly talented, generous, manipulative and strange human being Michael Jackson is dead.

The Story Of Life. For what it's worth, here’s four of my sub-budget efforts with the wrong people at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Ain’t that much of life?

"KING OF POP Michael Jackson died last night after a massive heart attack. He collapsed and stopped breathing after an apparent injection of a powerful painkiller named Demerol. Jacko was said to be addicted to the drug - similar to morphine - and it is feared he took an overdose." A very interesting report via British newspaper The Sun.

Mark Steyn bursts the bubble somewhat of the boy in the bubble.
"For a while, he liked to hang out at Disneyland with Mickey Mouse, one of the few A-list celebrities with whom he had anything in common - not least the white gloves, squeaky voice, snub nose, bizarre albino face bearing no relation to the jet black surround, and a penchant for hanging out with kids even though you’re well into middle age."

Via Foxnews: “Michael Jackson died today”.

Colonel Neville: Why is that so impossible to hear? It's true. But it is kinda ah, weird, eh? It’s an ordinary and extraordinary thing that ordinary people die. It happens every moment. What is it when extraordinary people die? It’s the same and yet it’s not is it? Jesus Christ, it’s not just reactions that are either ordinary and or extraordinary. Whatever way you cut it, it’s a rotten drag that the great, great and rather er, odd talent known as Michael Jackson has died, and I imagine he’s feeling damn disappointed too. And Farrah Fawcett Major and Ed McMahon too.

Believe me, death is usually fucking crap and comes with few very laughs, and whenever truly great talents die well, it does have a certain resonance similar in many ways to the kind that one can sometimes only experiences in the middle of a long night.

I don’t care if stars are allegedly or definitely totally washed up, I don’t need celebrities to die to get my kicks. I should be half as washed up as some of them or should I? Nope. I can kick small animals for that. However dull stars may become even if they’re as dull as me, I wish all of 'em that I dug were still around, though alive course. And gee, I do note that Jackson and many others, seem to have achieved a little more than me. No really.

Sure I did that outstanding bathroom tiling, but does it really compare? Even with the splendid grouting. You should see the new tea towel rack...

The fact is, can a massive talent like Michael Jackson ever really be washed up? Nope per se. It’s laughable to see what he could do and most others can’t, and not think well, what else is there to do? Not much, and not necessarily illegal. Well, something musically current and cutting I guess. Ah, there's "nothing more dated than the latest thing," as they say.

OK, for Mike it sure had been a long weird twilight of often re-hash while seemingly decked out in the wardrobe department of the old TV show Dallas and a funeral wholesaler from Dubai. I'm sure he could have come up with some cool new material if he could just ah... But we’ll never know now, eh?

People forget that like movie stars, pop stars just need some great new material to make the corny cliché of the “comeback". And unlike most movie stars who cannot create an original screenplay at all, Jackson could write and perform all that damn great and not so great stuff out of himself and as they say:
“a genius is someone who does easily what most others find difficult or impossible.”
Jackson had already done enough for just about anybody. And if he came up with some more swingin’ tunes, there ya go again.

There was nothing about peformance that Mike didn't know. I loved that he could sing at the top of the range with real punch, and his act always roared into town. His ability to put everything into a song: the instantly recognisable intro, verse, marvellous hooks, grooves, feel, sound, tempo and those fantastic changes and bridges. My, my. The urge to move that everyone gets when they hear a Jackson toon NEVER fades.

Now like most pop musicians regards the real and harsh world, once Jackson went beyond the personal and human condition, Mike usually had little to say of any real depth or meaning beyond well, ersatz concerns and boilerplate. Celebrities default most often to standard teenage babblings, spouting what is almost invariably sans any actual insight requiring any serious effort. Sya like reading books or gaining actual qualifications and experience in their entireley predictable pet subjects. No really.

Now I find nostalgia a draining sentimental bore, and it's a little unfair, but it’s a little amusing that acts that are allegedly so hot are rarely if ever anywhere near what Jackson is as a "wash up", or what he did before he was even a teenager. There’s room for everybody but sometimes it is to laugh, eh? Maybe some folks lack not just the often essential key driver of a poverty stricken to plain old poor background like Mike’s family had. Or for that matter the contrived lunacy and the actual insanity, though most celbrities actually are nuts,just plain dumb or both.

I aspire to be as good as Jackson. That’s Tony Jackson the fruiterer.

Jesus, I really just can’t stand going into the disturbing celebrity loon life of Jackson or this post will never end. Like the VERY alleged creepy claustrophobic kiddie frolics, the freaky disturbing Islam thing and the splastic disturbery and so on ad nauseum.

Now I don't think of the MSM as a reliable source of anything much worth a damn but unintentional laughs, frustration, nausea and tedium, but two of Mike's signature motifs have some rather startling evidence, don't they? And with his dimwitted brother saying "may Allah be with you," I imagine Michael's personal Islamic creepfest would fit in nicely and be right up his alley barbar.

Here's the thang: the only way Mike's kiddie fiddling could not be true is if none of it's true. Sadly, this is virtually impossible and a massive Himalaya of disturbing evidence says that it is true. Fifty years-old and apparently not ONE authentic, vaguely normal adult relationship with an adult female or adult male for that matter. Two laughable fake beard marriages, and a major investment being a strange park, an oddly sterile looking bad taste joint that brought endless children to the peculiarly kitcho world of Michael Jackson, the pie eyed piper of Neverland.

Why would an adult want to spend that much time with kids? They ain't that much fun especially after the first exhausting day of school holidays, are they? So your first and most natural reaction would be? Something was very, very, very well, criminally wrong.

Ya know outside of their specialty, celebrities can be tedious and ineffective misfits and thus award winning. I should be so lucky. I just have tedious and ineffective anonymity and no riches. Celebrities usually have identical dumber than dog hair leftard opinions and are commonly surrounded by repellent and gloomy parasites and not just their parents. But that’s show biz. What an enormous talent Michael Jackson was and what a freaking loss. Literally. Go figure.

While momentous events happen that will seriously effect our lives, the zeitgeist is "Drowning in Jackson."

On worshipping an alleged "pedophile."

More Steyn on Jackson: "Life and Death. "I thought he had a sad life. And he was a conspicuous victim of a very unpleasant and dysfunctional childhood."

I Had A Plan Or Two.

I Lost My Memory.

Make Our Own People.


Eowyn said...

"Ya know outside of their specialty, celebrities can be tedious and ineffective misfits. I should be so lucky. I just have tedious and ineffective anonymity and no riches."

Very nicely put. And beyond argument true.


(Reason No. 11875 why I've got a crush)

Eowyn said...

On another note:

Have you followed the Canadian "Human Rights" Commission stuff? Remember Mark Steyn and Ezra Levant?

A good Canadian friend, a "backwater" journalist, has set up a website directly ridiculing the CHRC head Jennifer Lynch. Great fun. Walker Morrow is encouraging guest-bloggers -- I can only imagine YOUR input *grin* -- or, if you didn't want to guest-blog, at LEAST comments.


GM Roper said...

Jackson was a strange duck. I didn't care for him or his music but my daughter did and I love her, so who can say.

RIP for a troubled soul.

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