Monday, June 13, 2005

Verdict on the Verdicts

My vast publique of one has demanded that I present some of my deep thoughts on the Michael Jackson trial and verdict, and I like to give the people what they want (or in this case, give the person what she wants), so here goes, for good or ill. Lord knows this whole fiasco has made me feel ill.

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First of all, this case was lost when they decided to make this particular family the plaintiffs. The mom was one very small step above the Wendy's finger-in-the-chili lady. Of course that doesn't mean MJ didn't molest her kid; but I have long thought that she was practically throwing him at MJ in the hopes that he would get fondled and she could sue.

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Trials are all about personality, and if the jury doesn't like you, you are screwed. And I'm pretty sure the kid and his whole family came off terribly. I read somewhere that the boy was exhibiting the classic signs of molestation--mood changes, anger, surliness, memory lapses, etc., that made him such a "poor" witness, and which make nearly all child molestation cases difficult to prosecute. If I had been the prosecutor, I might have brought up an expert to say, "Hey, jury. This kid is rude, unlikable, and sullen. Just like many typical victims of molestation, he's not an adorable tyke with a towhead and a lisp and Huck Finn charm. He's angry! He's confused! Wouldn't you be if your mom dropped you off at the foot of Michael Jackson's bed and said, "Bon appetit, Mr. Michael! And adios, mijo, I'll be at the mall having a Chik-fil-A and gettin' my nails done! Laters!" Then the jury would at least have some idea that shiftiness and story-changing are not necessarily the surefire tell-tale signs of a liar.

But do I think MJ fondled him inappropriately? Uh, yah. Did they have actual intercourse? Probably not. Just tons of over-the-line, under-the-underpants touching, feeling, tickling, caressing, grabbing, licking, cooing and wooing. And he will continue to do so with every beautiful brown boy whose parents say "Sure, son! Go spend a few weeks at Neverland! Spend the night in Michael's bed? Why not. Take your footed pj's! Michael said the blue ones were the cutest!" Seriously, I blame the parents more than anyone else. Sure, MJ often preys on sickly and/or poor kids from bleak neighborhoods and takes them to his own private Disneyland and plies them with Jesus juice in a Coke can. But blaming Michael Jackson for doing so is like blaming a lion for eating a child after dangling the child on a bloody hook in front of the lion's face. Any parent who willingly allows their child to spend one millisecond in the presence of Michael Jackson is dangling him on a bloody hook. It's that simple.

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Jackson is a figure of pity, a clay-mation impersonation of a human being, the product of his abusive, crazy father and the incredible demands of fame. But partly I think his frail, craaaazy thing is an act to avoid having to take responibility for his actions. I've heard that he has a regular speaking voice that is normal and semi-manly, not at all like the famous girly whisper. He cons people into thinking that he is an other-worldy creature not bound by the laws of mere mortals, much less the California Penal Code. But even though he is not going to prison (and could anyone really envision that outcome?) he will be punished for his sins. He is about to lose his hold on the collateral for the loans off of which he is living--namely, the Beatles catalog, which he used to secure lines of credit for hundreds of millions of dollars. The catalog generates a lot of money, but he spends more than it earns, and his trial alone cost around $20 million. He may have to sell Neverland, and the Elephant Man, and his Boy Scout mannequins and all the rest. He'll probably try some kind of come-back album, which will fail, because he is almost 50 and is out of touch and cannot come to terms with the fact that he will never, ever re-create the magic that was Thriller.

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He is the ultimate American celebrity tragedy, second only, perhaps, to Carrot Top. And aren't we are all, at least a little teensy, tiny bit, to blame?

For Carrot Top, I mean. Michael's on his own.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nicely put, milady.

Thank you.