|
||||
Michael Jackson is a freak, y'all. Now, I realize this is stating the obvious, but I've been cutting the guy slack for years, labelling him a pathetically sad and lonely man with deep-seeded issues, rather than opting for the cheap and easy label of freak. I see, now, the error of my ways. The guy is gone. Certifiable. And one has to wonder exactly when that happened and what the hell is going on in the dark, dark place that is Michael Jackson's brain, because it must be the most tortured morass of pain that ever was; that guy is a Freak with a capital F. He is a loon, whacked, out there, nuttier than a fruitcake. Not only are the lights on and nobody's home, the place has been packed up, white sheets are tossed over the furniture, and the owners don't EVER plan on coming back. They're selling the place from Europe or something. And it's haunted. It's haunted in a way that makes every other haunting look like freaking normality. The guy is gone. Remember how nice and normal Michael used to look? Before he discovered plastic butchers and cryogenic chambers, surgical masks, and hotel balconies? I wonder at what age he'll start pushing his children to have plastic surgery? That is, assuming he doesn't drop them off of a 4th floor balcony first. Michael used to be all-American. Makes you wonder about the American Dream, man. Maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I don't need to get everything I ever asked for, afterall. Maybe it's good to want and never have. I'm thinking I'm gonna be a little less unhappy about not having it all, from now on, because I've seen what happens when you have a lot, and it is scary. I also wonder if The Nose will get more press than the bizarreness of nonchalantly dangling a baby off a 4th floor hotel balcony when one is in town to accept an award for one's work benefitting children. Which is why I finally graduated the sad, pathetic creature to Freak. And I'm reading this article on the subject, and some lameass plastic surgeon has the gall to suggest it's not always easy to say no to people requesting plastic surgery, there's no line drawn. And I'm thinking, Oh, really? Because I'm thinking even plastic surgeons swear a Hippocratic oath, wherein they pledge to do no physical harm to a person, but to heal him, and whomever did that hack job on Michael's nose (and the rest of his face) *certainly* violated that oath. When do you draw the freaking line? When the person asking you to cut into their face has had so much surgery they no longer resemble a human being, you leech. When jurors gasp in horror and small children scream in terror, while their mothers cry out "Dear God, what is that THING?"* It's time to say no, or face medical malpractice charges. Betcha five, plastic surgeons would have no trouble whatsofreakingever saying no if they were gonna be brought up on criminal charges for their butchery. And they should be if they're taking advantage of people with that syndrome that causes them to mutilate their bodies. Or anyone else pathologically inclined to seek plastic surgery, for that matter. Michael Jackson is an abomination, and someone helped him get there. And that person should have to answer for his atrocities. It's Michael's responsibility, yes, but someone should have said no, for god's sake. And that's all I'm gonna say on the subject.
*Apologies to excellent writer William Goldman. Poser from Hell Uh, no. That would be George Martin, aka The Fifth Beatle. If you think it was Mutt Lange, you not only need your head kicked in, you are too sad to live. Bygones. Get a life, and then some. Please define "security," Joe. Come again, Joe? It extends for yet another year the deadline for airport screening of all baggage that goes onboard an airplane. So I don't feel any more secure about getting on a plane, there, Joe. Funny how baggage x-ray machines gathering dust at LAX just don't inspire me to fly. Especially when the airport is one of others across the country who are part of a pilot program which allows them to stop conducting random searches of passengers, because federal employees are employed as baggage screeners now. Federal employees. Civil servants. The same people who set their clocks ahead 10 minutes so they can stop working at 3:20pm instead of 3:30. It also enables the government to tromp all over my privacy without so much as a by your leave to the courts. Again, not feeling all that secure, Joe. In fact, I feel noticeably less secure. But I'm sure all the fricking neo-Nazis in the country feel just great. So thanks for that one. And oh yeah, did I mention all the fat little add-ons Republican reps pushed thru? Apparently, it is absolutely vital to "Homeland Security" that companies with government contracts be able to use offshore accounts to avoid paying US taxes, and that the makers of drugs and vaccines not be held liable for any damages their products might do. Yeah, there's no peril, there. Drug companies NEVER cheat on research or hide damaging evidence against the use of their product. So, we're totally good there. Thank God. Seriously, how much does it cost to move to France? Life in Starshollow Is it just me, or is it even creepier when an actor you think is cute plays a psychopathic badguy? I find myself still attracted, and then it's just disturbing and unsettling. Maybe I should seek therapy. Why is it every time they need a woman to do a cat-themed voice over, they get Eartha Kitt? Julie Newmar was a good Catwoman, too, you know. In fact, no slam on Eartha, but Julie rocked. I still say Julie was the best Catwoman, ever. She wasn't born bad, she was just dressed that way. (okay, okay, sorry; couldn't resist. have i mentioned i play the moo game? lay off.) Julie Newmar will forever be the one true Catwoman in my eyes. Then again, what do I know? I watched the Bugaloos and wanted to be Joy when I grew up, so clearly, I do not have the best judgement in the world. At any rate, that's all there is to this entry. I'm tired and craving a 2am snack, so I am for the kitchen. Where the snacks live. Later days. Peace out, copyright 2002
- 2005 Katie Doyle; all rights reserved
"Oy with the poodles, already."
In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
|
Katie's Pals
L'ours
Pete Other Stuff Katie Digs
|
|||
-
1
|