Now I know I shouldn’t believe everything I have read and heard over the last few days about Michael Jackson’s grand jury hearing. Like they keep saying all over the news, his lawyers couldn’t be there. The witnesses weren’t cross examined. They were just on full blast. Credible or not they just said what they wanted to say and let Mike have it.
But I admit that I tend to believe what they said, and I know why.
A gangster rapper for example would have the same problem getting off on charges that he committed a violent crime with me on a jury.
You can’t make a career talking about killing, raping and assaulting people and how short your fuse is, and then expect to sit in a court room and try to get me to believe you are innocent of killing raping or assaulting someone.
With Michael, although I know he hasn’t made a career making albums about how he wants to teach little boys how to masturbate, but he is so bizarre, I tend to believe anything I hear that is like this.
The last thing Michael’s lawyers want you to do is to sit down and actually think about the things Michael has done over the years.
For example, the man has children but no wife. No girlfriend. No mistresses. All of his kids, every last one of them have all seem to come from artificial insemination.
It’s like he has no interest in women or even making the kids. He only wants the kids.
That should’ve been clue number one…hundred and seventy nine thousand five hundred and eleventy billion.
Plus, it looks like he only likes white kids because I would bet my five senses that there isn’t any Jackson blood in any of those blond blue eyed kids he carries around in those Taliban outfits.
Mark my words, 50 years from now, long after all of this has passed, and Michael is dead, people will look at his picture in a history book and say to my old, crippled, half senile shell of a self and say, “and you swear you couldn’t just look at him and see that he had done all of the things that they say he did? You actually had to take this to trial?”
With all of his talent aside, I could see Michael doing all of things that grand jury testimony said that he had done. For one, I don’t know Mike. That made it easy. If I knew him personally, maybe I could say that wouldn’t be the kind of behavior that the Mike I knew would be capable of doing, but I can’t.
So since I know that I don’t know Mike why can’t I give him the benefit of the doubt?
When I look at Mike this is exactly the kind of stuff I would think a guy that carries himself the way he does would do.
Jacking a little kid off is what a 45 year old man who looks like a ghoul, with eyes that look like they never blink, drawn on eyebrows, a caved in nose and permanent red lipstick does.
So when it was over, I got off the couch and walked in the kitchen so I could slide across the floor and I hit a few notes from "Thriller". I did a few steps that I could remember off the top of my head and I still got the chills.
I asked myself, how could I still enjoy "Thriller", even though I believed that Mike did all of the things that I had just heard a few moments ago on Primetime Live.
The answer was simple.
Because Mike looks absolutely nothing like he did back in his Thriller days, pedophile Mike and "Thriller" Mike they seem like two entirely different people to me.
On the one hand we have the handsome Mike that was kicking his legs out, spinning and jumping on the tips of his toes and this pale faced, permanent eyeliner wearing, ghoul looking pedophile that he allegedly is now.
Two completely different people. Two completely different reactions from me.
As selfish as it sounds my world of early 80s nostalgia is safe.