Michael Jackson Loses His Brave Battle with Reality
Today in Los Angeles (home of the Team Yasumura Compound West), a 28-year-old white woman was rushed to the hospital in cardiac arrest. It turns-out it was Michael Jackson, a 50-year-old black man. In case you didn’t know, and this Blog is your only source of information, Jackson died (if this blog is your only source of information, well, you might be the greatest shut-in ever). Evidently the face-mask did not work in preventing death (hear that Asians?!!).
It should be noted, The King of Pop was NOT a member of Team Yasumura. As near as we can tell, Jackson’s only affiliation was as an officer in some sort of glittery paramilitary group of child soldiers. The point is, he was his own organization – like a Bond villain (seriously, a lot like a Bond villain).
Many Team Members may be wondering, “How should I feel about Jacko’s untimely death?” Well, first of all, don’t call him that. Second of all, you shouldn’t feel anything at all, except maybe, “Huh…weird.” Feeling something at this time would imply some sort of empathy; a common human experience – with which Michael Jackson was clearly not engaged. There is no analogy to be drawn here. Jackson’s strangeness is the gold standard by which all other freaks will be judged. He’s like the kid who ate worms to get attention – only times ten million. This guy was too weird for Lisa Marie Presley, and she’s a Scientologist (Team Jenna Elfman). She believes ghost-aliens inhabit your body and the only cure is in Florida – and she couldn’t deal with this guy.
In fact, the only normal thing about Jackson is his death. An autopsy has yet to be performed, but it is likely the man died from a heart attack brought on by stress and over use of prescription medications (did Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor have the same doctor? That guy is a great doctor). It’s a pretty typical death; certainly not the one we expected: torn limb from limb by naked giggling children at the end of a concert in Japan (or something like that).
After the autopsy, Jackson’s body will lie in state at Al Sharpton’s condo (new tenants come after the fourth, so we gotta get this thing done), where it will be mourned by emotionally stunted forty-year-old women and children who don’t know any better. His bones will then be returned to a museum in England.
Of course, we were all looking forward to Jackson’s next album, which promised to be relevant; which promised to capture our attentions and excite our imaginations. By the way, when we said ‘Next Album’ we meant ‘Next Trial.”
The one silver lining in all this: With Jackson dead, and the spot light off his family, his kids will finally have a chance at being normal (no, they wont’).
Stay Strong America and Await Further Instructions.
