He Moonwalked on Water

Today we morn the passing of the single greatest contribution to the universe that humanity could ever hope to offer. He was a singer of songs, a dancer of dances, a dangler of little babies and a diddler of little boys. He was Michael Jackson. Known to his closest friends as “Wacko Jacko“ or in more intimate settings simply as ”OH FUCK! What happened to you!? Shit!“

In his short time on earth he showed us that there is no difference between a black man and a white woman, and what ever differences there were he had surgically erased. He showed us that it is just as easy to love children as adults regardless of legality or morality, as long as you can afford to pay off the parents. And when no one else’s children are aloud to sleep over, he showed us that little blond white children can always be had. He even showed us that it's okay to name all of your kids after yourself, even if one is a girl , as long as you refer to one of them as a piece of bed clothes.

Though the nearly bankrupt state of California is more than happy to shell out in the neighborhood of four million dollars for the Staples Center event, perhaps the greatest tribute to the King-o-Pop came when the Fruit of the Loom company announced its special edition Michael Jackson Underoos, with images of the performer printed on the inside of the garment. The company said they hoped this would fulfill Jackson’s life long dream to get in to the pant of children around the world.

The requisite three days having past since his death, I can only assume that the casket on the stage of the Staples Center in Los Angels is either empty, or perhaps the lead lining is interfering with his ascension. But either way, I am sure we will see his zombie corpse shuffling down the street like a Filipino prison inmate, in his red leather jacket, looking for a little boy who’s ”brains“ he can eat, and leading us to the rapture. Oh the glory!

Good bye Michael, we will miss you, at least until the toxicology reports come out.