What in the Hell is the Matter With You People?!

I am 30 years old. I was in prime impressionable mode when Michael Jackson was moonwalking his way into the heart of pop culture. I've danced the "Thriller." That said, I do not give a rat's ass about this guy and cannot understand why anyone else does. It's one thing when ridiculous caricatures of people (i.e. "celebrities") get up on a pulpit on an OxyContin-induced trip and lament, gnash their teeth and paw at their chests in agony over some guy who performed a handful of good tunes but was otherwise a complete mental case. But real people acting as if they just lost their savior? He hasn't done a damn thing the past decade, aside from molest some kids, suck up lethal doses of drugs, run around in his pajamas and masks while parts of his face fell off, claim to be Peter Pan, rack up stupid amounts of debt, father a few surrogate children, naming them bullshit things like "Prince" and "Blanket" and dangling them over balconies... and who could forget his story about snatching his little baby off of the birthing table and running home with it, dangling cord and all? Me. I never could forget that no matter how hard I tried.

Now you have morons like Elizabeth Taylor, Liza Minelli, Brooke Shields, the Jackson family and the Reverend Al Sharpton waxing poetic about what an amazing dude Michael was. Sharpton even said, "There wasn't nothing strange about your daddy. It was strange what your daddy had to deal with!" REALLY??? There 'wasn't nothing' strange about him?

Really, you attention whore douche nozzle of a man? This is the picture of okay?

NO. Let me call all you fake sobbing fools out right now. You are only there to feel the heat of the spotlight on your washed out faces. You did not LOVE Michael Jackson. If you did you wouldn't have let him slowly kill himself through emotional problems, anxiety, eventual and complete psychosis and elephant tranquilizers. You certainly wouldn't let your BFF around children, not to mention sleep with them - let alone GIVE children to him legally. If you LOVED this man as much as you say, you would have gotten him help, stepped in when he began to carve his face up to look like Peter Pan and oh, I don't know, TIP THE COPS OFF to his drug dealers? SUE the shit out of the surgeons who okayed "just one more nose job"? The list goes on.

But not one of you intervened. Not one of you gave a shit; you watched as the spectacle turned into a circus which turned into a tragedy. The tragedy is not that Michael Jackson is dead (Because who really didn't see that coming 50 miles away?) The tragedy is that the whole f*cking country was watching his golden f*cking coffin tour California, stars were talking about him like he was Nelson Mandela and people were actually throwing their bodies around and crying as if it was 1968 all over again and MLK had just been assassinated. GET A GRIP, PEOPLE.