Michael Jackson Homocided!

By the power of Latoya Jackson, I abjure you! In the name of the Almighty Joe Jackson, I cast you out! In the name of the L.A. coroner's office, I declare your death a homocide!

Granny get your gun and Dr. Murray get a lawyer cuz somebody is going to jail.

According to an anonymous law enforcement source, L.A. county is declaring Jackson's death a homocide. And Latoya Jackson's crazy ass predicted it. Give that bitch a turban and a 1-900 number...cuz Miss Cleo has been reborn. Call her Miss Jackson if you're nasty.

The story was reported at BlackPower.com, a magazine for which I have formerly written (and those bitches owe me almost $1000...don't make me call Judge Mathis).

The entire tale is a sad one that started with Joe beating Michael's ass and ended with Michael begging for ever increasing levels of narcotic substances best left to an anesthesiologist and an episode of Grey's Anatomy. As one friend of mine put it, Michael's nose died a long time ago, and his body just caught up.

Although I thoroughly believe that Jacko was ready to move on and have words with his maker. I also believe that his death highlights the reality of the ultra rich, ultra fabulous, and ultra unbounded by the laws that encumber the rest of us. I got my ass beaten on an almost daily basis for a good chunk of my life too. I did what most broke ass people do, and I got myself an addiction and a trip to rehab. Only the extremely over privileged get beaten, become mega super stars, build a personal amusement park, die with a billion dollars in assets, a new facial structure, and a different race from which they entered the world.

The world needs to let MJJ rest. For good or ill he had children that he obviously loved. His family and his children need time to mourn. Show them the same respect that was shown Jennifer Hudson when she lost her family. Shut up. Back off. Let the living grieve and let the dead rest in peace.

As for the murder charges...

Find the doctor, smack him in the face, tear up his medical license, and then let him go free. I believe that he did exactly as Michael asked him to do. There is no indication, at least that has been made public, that the doctor stood to benefit from Michael's death financially. There is always the chance that he was working for someone else. My money is on Joe Jackson's evil fucking ass. If that turns out to be the case...then the doctor goes to jail, Joe goes to the electric chair, and his surviving children are given first dibs to draw straws to see which of them gets to throw the switch. Of course, Mama Jackson gets to whoop Joe's ass first while he is tied up in the chair. I hope they air that shit on the season finale of American Idol. Now that would be a goddamn show. The only way it could be better would be if Ryan Seacrest came out of the closet and Simon Cowell admitted to slipping Paula pills.

In the end, the wheels of justice have been set in motion. Black folks tend to come out poorly in our criminal justice system, and the public at large is baying for blood. It doesn't look good for Dr. Murray. In the end, whether or not the death was accidental or pre-meditated, the fault lays squarely at the feet of Joe Jackson and the torture to which he put Michael and the rest of the children. The media are not guiltless or blameless in all of this. And, though it is harsh to say, Michael, at any point, could have asked for help and paid for the best fucking help available on the planet...so there is fault with him as well.

The coming months are going to turn his passing into an even greater circus...the only question remaining is who will be the ringmaster.

Michael Jackson Would Have Stapled His Eyeball to Get Out of The Staples Center

In my own twisted fantasy world...Beyonce Knowles would have started off the Michael Jackson memorial. She would have taken the stage in a low cut, yet tasteful, black Vera Wang number. With tears glistening in her eyes, just on the edge of falling, she would have looked down at Michael's casket and sang:

"To the left, to the left, Michael Jackson's body is in the box to the left."

I know. There is something terribly warped about my mind. I think my Mother smoked and drank while she was pregnant, and I know my Daddy's sperm were drunk and high when they accidentally bumped into my Mother's ova and conceived me.

That was the cheesiest fucking memorial service that I have ever seen in my entire life.

Now, I will say...the opening number of "Soon and Very Soon," was very tasteful. It was a beautiful rendition of a song that I grew up singing at Calvary Baptist Church in Duluth, Minnesota. But the intervening grand standing and sermonizing about made me teleport to the Staples Center, dressed as Linda Blair from the Exorcist, and, as Mariah Carey squawked her way through her duet, shouted, "YOUR MOTHER SUCKS COCKS IN HELL," and then projectile vomited directly into her open mouth.

And don't get me started on Brooke Shields crazy ass. First of all, I was like..."What the hell is Maria Shriver doing speaking at Michael Jackson's funeral?" Then I thought...damn...Lisa Marie has had work done to make her look like Maria Shriver. And finally, after reading my friend Ebony's facebook page, I realized it was Brooke Shields lookin' like Lisa Marie lookin' like Maria Shriver...and I was over it.

Now I love Michael Jackson more than your average bear. I paid him and his influence on my childhood (have you seen it?) in a post in this very blog. But Lord Have Mercy...the over the top dramatics by people that were less concerned about sending Michael off right and more concerned with the fact that at least 3 billion people would see their crazy asses during the side show extravaganza was enough to send me into a fit of inappropriate Facebook status posts.

(The best of which was "Brandon Lacy is Talkin' to the Man in the Coffin...I'm asking what happened to his Face! No message could have been any clearer...if you get plastic surgery and look like an alien you done made a crazy change!")

Wrong? Perhaps. Funny. You bet your plastic surgeon's stock of silicon it was.

And don't get me started on that whack ass rendition of "We Are the World." First of all, save for Michael Jackson, most of the rest of the artists that sang the damn song are still alive, half of them were there, and they couldn't get even one of their asses up on stage to sing the song? Shit. Lionel Richie was ON stage, and he didn't chime in until somewhere in the chorus. It was the most bootleg version of that song I have ever heard. That little Korean girl on YouTube that sings Michael Jackson songs and memorizes them phonetically would have done a better job than Bubbles the Chimp's retarded cousins that got up there and hacked it apart.

But I will admit I did cry at the end.

When his brother got up there and let the entire globe have it for havin' the nerve to talk shit about how strange and wierd Michael was while, at the same time, making the man live under so much scrutiny until he got so fed up that he moved to the Middle East and started wearing a burqa, I clapped. When little Paris Michael got up there and said she loved her Daddy and missed him, I was a big old crying mess in the kitchen.

And, for the record, I believe that little girl is actually biologically his. I got a niece that is mixed and has the same skin color. Plus, I heard she is the only one that can sing and dance. I bet she came out the womb with a sparkle glove and a zipper jacket. She didn't cry when they slapped her on the ass, she said, "Heeee heeee...OW!"

Michael is on his way to his dirt nap. The man is probably in Heaven right now thinking he should have possessed his own corpse, crawled up out the coffin, done the Thriller dance, flipped Latoya the bird, and moonwalked the fuck up out of the Staples Center.

Rest in peace Michael. These fools done turned your funeral into the biggest PR bonanza in the history of the Earth.