"HEY YOU GUYS! DID YOU HEAR?? MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD? I KNOW, I KNOW WTF!!!!!! I LIKE, SO LISTEN TO THRILLER ON MY WORKOUT MIX!!!! YEAH!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S GONE!!!!!"
Fuck that.
I swear to Jesus, this is a publicity stunt. Apparently, at some point yesterday, Michael Jackson, the self proclaimed "King Of Pop" kicked the ol' bucket. One too many chili cheese fries at Sonic. Do they sell those anymore? That shit gets EVERYWHERE. Fox News, CNN, NBC, and all the other bitch-ass "news" networks have been covering this "breaking story" "all day" and whatnot.
And I don't believe it. Not for one goddamned second.
Actually Not Dead.I feel as if Wacko-Jacko had much to gain from a RocknRolla "Paul Is Dead"-esque type disappearance act. Besides the fact that the guy is a fucking balls-out lunatic, this seems to fit in well with his generally fucked up life. Very little self control, this man. But there are some other shady going-ons that I quickly realized were signs of tricks. Trickery. Highway robbery. Manslaughter. Assorted other felonies.
1. No-Shows:
Jackson only showed up for two rehearsals in preparation for his huge comeback concert series beginning in London and carrying on through the fall. Bullshit? To the promoters, very bullshit. Fearing for their investments, the people (and I say that assuming robots did not put up the capital to fund these shows, which may or may not be a correct assumption) that funded the tour were legitimately starting to freak the fuck out on Mike. And he was all like, screw you guys, I'm going home. To L.A.
Would prudent businessmen really invest in something they knew was going to tank?
These are prudent businessmen.
Not likely, I say. But Jack just wouldn't show up. So in efforts to postpone the concerts a second time, they came up with a devilishly genius plan. Fake Michael's death. And that children, is how you do business. Fake deaths and plastic surgeries.
2. Sales:
This is the obvious one. I went to a CD Warehouse today, and the guy behind the counter that pretty much plays only Iron Maiden and wears shirts that say "I please one person a day, and today isn't your day" said that he had at least 10 people come in the last hour asking for Jackson CD's. Which if you think about it for one fucking second is retarded because one, just because you bought it the day he died doesn't make it any more significant or worth more and two, the internet is laughing at you because you bought something from a store.
The Internet.
1. No-Shows:
Jackson only showed up for two rehearsals in preparation for his huge comeback concert series beginning in London and carrying on through the fall. Bullshit? To the promoters, very bullshit. Fearing for their investments, the people (and I say that assuming robots did not put up the capital to fund these shows, which may or may not be a correct assumption) that funded the tour were legitimately starting to freak the fuck out on Mike. And he was all like, screw you guys, I'm going home. To L.A.
Would prudent businessmen really invest in something they knew was going to tank?
These are prudent businessmen. 2. Sales:
This is the obvious one. I went to a CD Warehouse today, and the guy behind the counter that pretty much plays only Iron Maiden and wears shirts that say "I please one person a day, and today isn't your day" said that he had at least 10 people come in the last hour asking for Jackson CD's. Which if you think about it for one fucking second is retarded because one, just because you bought it the day he died doesn't make it any more significant or worth more and two, the internet is laughing at you because you bought something from a store.
The Internet.So today was a good day for the sales of whatever it is Michael Jackson sings, although I don't know any of them because the torrent I downloaded of his number one hits was password protected.
3. The man is a FUCKING LUNATIC:
So in conclusion, when he comes back from a holiday in Rapetown or wherever they sent him, I told you so.
3. The man is a FUCKING LUNATIC:
So in conclusion, when he comes back from a holiday in Rapetown or wherever they sent him, I told you so.
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