The more I look at what’s going on out west, the more convinced I become of the theory that the entire L.A. County District Attorney’s Office must be suffering from one brutal case of collective brain cancer.
Because you’d have to be sans that many brain cells and smoking that much pot to drop the ball on so many brutally obvious celebrity convictions.
Seriously, what the fuck is going on in California? As if I weren’t already praying for its inevitable descent into the Pacific courtesy of the San Andreas Fault, I’m forced to watch justice perverted on a regular basis at the hands of inept prosecutors and muckraking scumbag defense attorneys.
Granted, I’ve got enough problems with the American legal system to begin with. And I’m talking well beyond the current cast of Law & Order. I think we have way to many legal loopholes that keep felons out of jail and convicts on death row. I also think the rules of evidence need to be restructured because too often, there are extenuating circumstances that require evidence be plucked from somewhere besides the area designated in a search warrant.
But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about how these dimwit prosecutors dropped the ball on Robert Blake, an obvious psychopath, and how they’re inevitably gonna drop the ball on Michael Jackson.
Yeah, I know, I lambasted him earlier this month. I still think the man is guilty. By that same token, I’m convinced that the prosecution is gonna do what it always does in Hollywood: they’re gonna build a case on a foundation of circumstantial evidence, fail to establish a clear motive, and glide through like they’ve got an easy win.
And you know what? They really should have an easy win. They should’ve had an easy win with Blake. And with O.J. And with John Landis. You get the idea.
Seriously, have you heard Blake since his win in the courtroom? If I were a juror for that case, the first thing to cross my mind when hearing his press conference would be, “holy shit, we just unleashed a madman into society.”
And it’s hardly the jury’s fault; they’re selected because they know nothing about the case to begin with. Another fatal flaw of our legal system, but I digress. It’s the duty of the prosecution and the defense to convince the jury that the defendant is either guilty or not. It just so happens that prosecutors in California haven’t been able to do this since Charles Manson.
Seriously, they let off John Landis in the Twilight Zone case. For those unfamiliar, this was a film adaptation of the popular Rod Serling TV show done in an episodic fashion, each segment with a different director. Long story short, there was a helicopter sequence in Landis’ portion of the film in which a pyrotechnic blast was overloaded, and it wound up taking the helicopter down, causing it to land on actor Vic Morrow and two child actors, killing all three. First off, Landis was in the wrong by having the two younger actors work late nights (child labor laws, folks). Secondly, he packed the explosion to the nines for a greater effect; an item he bragged about openly on the set. Now, I loved Animal House, but the guy is clearly guilty of negligence. Yet the prosecution failed to follow through on its intent to convict.
As I said, this is the same thing that happened with O.J. and Robert Blake. When it all adds up, odds are Mikey’s gonna get off. On kiddie porn. Then he’ll be acquitted of all charges. So it goes.
Maybe a lot of this has to do with the strength of your average celebrity attorney. These guys could sell you a Pinto and have you thinkin’ it’s a goddamn Beemer. I’d love to know what law school they attended to acquire such vile talents when it comes to manipulation, but I seriously think it’s time someone carpet bombed that institution. We got enough lowlife lawyers out there to begin with. Only difference is these guys are priced too high for anyone without a seven figure income.
Some of this rumination on my part may have been brought about by the passing of Johnnie Cochran. I heard about this on the radio tonight, and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. I’m not a cold person when it comes to untimely deaths, but that is one guy that I will not miss, nor will I shed any tears for. I can’t respect a man who made his living—a robust one at that—by “unproving” the obvious guilt of so many piss-poor human beings. Honestly, did he ever do anything else worth note or merit? The man was a scumbag, plain and simple. He thrived on deception, diversion, subterfuge, and the overall softening of the human brain. God be with his family and friends, but quite frankly, the world’s a better place without him. End of story.
In the meantime, I seriously think it’s high time that California’s prosecutors up the ante and get aggressive when it comes to celebrity cases. These Goddamn cases are so high profile, so larger-than-life that when a clearly guilty celeb is acquitted, it makes our nation and our legal system look bad. I’ll never vindicate someone for their poor deeds just because they landed People Magazine’s “50 Most Beautiful People List” (Jude Law, I’m lookin’ your way. I know about the illegal cable hookup. And the baby seal you clubbed. Your number’s up, chump). I look at them as I would any other felon when it’s clear they’ve done wrong. But in the eyes of the court, I do believe prosecutors should look at them differently. Don’t view them as just people, especially when it comes to heinous crimes. Go for the fuckin’ throat and don’t let up until they cry uncle or their bank account dies. Make an example of these pompous, cocky bastards for the rest of the lot.
Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.
3/29/2005
3/03/2005
Y’know, if I ever decide to become a child molester, I’m gonna make sure that I have the best-selling album of the decade before I start dipping my pen into the Romper Room ink pool.
That would appear to be what Michael Jackson did, and it’s done him well thus far. After all, despite a purportedly overwhelming amount of evidence against his cause, he still has a legion of religiously devout fans, as well as more celebrity friends than are listed in Johnny Carson’s old guestbook. And both groups are avidly supporting him with the incoming of this trial. So not only does he have the moral support of his fans, but he has character witnesses willing to take the stand for him.
Of course, when your character witnesses are a guy who was on trial for rape and a woman with nearly ten marriages to her name, you gotta wonder if Mikey’s defense isn’t asking them to kindly back off. Then again, you gotta be kinda loopy to represent a guy like Jackson in the first place.
I am convinced that Michael Jackson could commit atrocities against humankind that would make Osama bin Laden shit himself, and he’d still have hundreds of people flock to him like vultures to a pasty white corpse with no nose. And it didn’t take this trial to make me aware of this fact.
Lemme set the stage for ya: my radio show at Skidmore was basically a hard rock expo peppered with commentary, observations, and sage truths.
Just imagine this blog with a soundtrack. That was my show in a nutshell.
The slot I had during the first semester of my senior year was from 6 to 8 in the evening. My lead-in was an hour-long show entitled “Off The Wall: A Tribute To The Jacksons.” The hosts were a boyfriend/girlfriend team who were both Jackson fanatics, and their on-air content consisted not only of tunes by Michael, Janet, and the 5, but also “impressive” solo work by Germaine, Tito, Marlon, and LaToya. There was also Jackson Trivia, holiday songs, “This Day in Jackson History,” etc., etc., ad nauseum (or just plain “added nausea”). Top it all off with the fact that the female half of the team shelled out a whopping $300 and change to see the Michael Jackson Tribute Special back in 2001, featuring Michael, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, Usher, and a veritable cornucopia of $&B stars and Pop Tarts.
First off, how late were the program managers up at night to have an all-Jackson’s program as a lead-in to a balls-out hard rock show? Then again, it is Skidmore, so it’s likely that between alternating bong hits, beer funnels and Esperanto’s Dough Boys, my show would’ve sounded like a great lead-in for an all-polka show.
Wait… that was my junior year… sonuva…
Secondly, this led me to two rock-hard, undisputable truths:
1 – Jackson fans are absolutely rabid. You really have to just forsake all reason and love the hell out of this man if you’re willing to purchase Tito Jackson’s solo records based solely on the fact that he is Michael’s sibling.
2 – The female half of this crew had to give the most amazing blow job known to man, because I do not know a single red-blooded American male that would fess up to liking Michael Jackson in this day and age, let alone sit beside his girlfriend and profess said fandom on a radio show.
Seriously, how can you doubt that this man is beyond fucked up and has an unhealthy obsession with children? That ol’ boy ain’t right, folks! It’s as plain as the fingerprint on the kiddie porn. A lot of us don’t want to believe it, and I understand that. Maybe to some of us, Michael is one of the last truly magical characters in the world that has yet to be debunked. Rank him up there with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy; it seems to fit the idiom he’s crafted for himself.
Look, I ain’t rankin’ on the guy for his odd behavior or his appearance. At the core if it all, it may not even really be his fault. It’s purely a psychological thing probably brought about by his childhood and all the shit Big Poppa Joe put him and his sibs through. The saddest part is that, in his mind, Michael really doesn’t know that what he’s doing is wrong. Chalk that one up to legal insanity, folks. It’s the same reason that Jeffrey Dahmer was killed in a prison riot and not by lethal injection. Because he thought that putting post-sodomized human entrails on the menu was an OK thing to do.
I forget who said it, but one reported likened Michael Jackson to Howard Hughes. Now this is not the Howard Hughes depicted in The Aviator. This is the whacked-out germophobe version. The guy who was such a hugely public figure that when he all but vanished, people’s already-unhealthy infatuation with him rose tenfold. The unsettling part of this analogy is that while it may be accurate to a fault, Michael’s eccentricities have, like the times themselves, grown more disturbing and frightening.
And it’s hard to deny that. Some folks are eager to cry “conspiracy” to defend Michael’s name, and to be fair, any conspiracy theory may have an element of truth to it, if not too far-fetched. Example: The U.S. government’s watch over and eventual deportation of John Lennon was initially regarded as just wild conspiracy theory. Today we know it to be fact. But the shortcoming of the Jackson theory is this: what would anyone have to gain by setting the man up? I mean, hey, I hated Moonwalker as much as anyone, but I wouldn’t frame the guy for child molestation to get my kicks.
No my friends, this one is sadly very much a reality. We gotta accept that. For many people, this may be the equivalent of discovering that wholesome, likeable J.F.K. cheated on Jackie. Or learning that Mickey Mantle was a massive alcoholic. It’s a sad truth that diehard fans have to learn to deal with. Coming to Michael’s aid isn’t going to help him. Maybe in terms of morale, sure. But it’s not going to be able to sway twelve jurors. That’s what his attorneys are attempting to do. Please leave that job to them.
And please leave college radio alone. Just… just stop dipping into my Kool-Aid, will ya?
Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.
That would appear to be what Michael Jackson did, and it’s done him well thus far. After all, despite a purportedly overwhelming amount of evidence against his cause, he still has a legion of religiously devout fans, as well as more celebrity friends than are listed in Johnny Carson’s old guestbook. And both groups are avidly supporting him with the incoming of this trial. So not only does he have the moral support of his fans, but he has character witnesses willing to take the stand for him.
Of course, when your character witnesses are a guy who was on trial for rape and a woman with nearly ten marriages to her name, you gotta wonder if Mikey’s defense isn’t asking them to kindly back off. Then again, you gotta be kinda loopy to represent a guy like Jackson in the first place.
I am convinced that Michael Jackson could commit atrocities against humankind that would make Osama bin Laden shit himself, and he’d still have hundreds of people flock to him like vultures to a pasty white corpse with no nose. And it didn’t take this trial to make me aware of this fact.
Lemme set the stage for ya: my radio show at Skidmore was basically a hard rock expo peppered with commentary, observations, and sage truths.
Just imagine this blog with a soundtrack. That was my show in a nutshell.
The slot I had during the first semester of my senior year was from 6 to 8 in the evening. My lead-in was an hour-long show entitled “Off The Wall: A Tribute To The Jacksons.” The hosts were a boyfriend/girlfriend team who were both Jackson fanatics, and their on-air content consisted not only of tunes by Michael, Janet, and the 5, but also “impressive” solo work by Germaine, Tito, Marlon, and LaToya. There was also Jackson Trivia, holiday songs, “This Day in Jackson History,” etc., etc., ad nauseum (or just plain “added nausea”). Top it all off with the fact that the female half of the team shelled out a whopping $300 and change to see the Michael Jackson Tribute Special back in 2001, featuring Michael, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, Usher, and a veritable cornucopia of $&B stars and Pop Tarts.
First off, how late were the program managers up at night to have an all-Jackson’s program as a lead-in to a balls-out hard rock show? Then again, it is Skidmore, so it’s likely that between alternating bong hits, beer funnels and Esperanto’s Dough Boys, my show would’ve sounded like a great lead-in for an all-polka show.
Wait… that was my junior year… sonuva…
Secondly, this led me to two rock-hard, undisputable truths:
1 – Jackson fans are absolutely rabid. You really have to just forsake all reason and love the hell out of this man if you’re willing to purchase Tito Jackson’s solo records based solely on the fact that he is Michael’s sibling.
2 – The female half of this crew had to give the most amazing blow job known to man, because I do not know a single red-blooded American male that would fess up to liking Michael Jackson in this day and age, let alone sit beside his girlfriend and profess said fandom on a radio show.
Seriously, how can you doubt that this man is beyond fucked up and has an unhealthy obsession with children? That ol’ boy ain’t right, folks! It’s as plain as the fingerprint on the kiddie porn. A lot of us don’t want to believe it, and I understand that. Maybe to some of us, Michael is one of the last truly magical characters in the world that has yet to be debunked. Rank him up there with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy; it seems to fit the idiom he’s crafted for himself.
Look, I ain’t rankin’ on the guy for his odd behavior or his appearance. At the core if it all, it may not even really be his fault. It’s purely a psychological thing probably brought about by his childhood and all the shit Big Poppa Joe put him and his sibs through. The saddest part is that, in his mind, Michael really doesn’t know that what he’s doing is wrong. Chalk that one up to legal insanity, folks. It’s the same reason that Jeffrey Dahmer was killed in a prison riot and not by lethal injection. Because he thought that putting post-sodomized human entrails on the menu was an OK thing to do.
I forget who said it, but one reported likened Michael Jackson to Howard Hughes. Now this is not the Howard Hughes depicted in The Aviator. This is the whacked-out germophobe version. The guy who was such a hugely public figure that when he all but vanished, people’s already-unhealthy infatuation with him rose tenfold. The unsettling part of this analogy is that while it may be accurate to a fault, Michael’s eccentricities have, like the times themselves, grown more disturbing and frightening.
And it’s hard to deny that. Some folks are eager to cry “conspiracy” to defend Michael’s name, and to be fair, any conspiracy theory may have an element of truth to it, if not too far-fetched. Example: The U.S. government’s watch over and eventual deportation of John Lennon was initially regarded as just wild conspiracy theory. Today we know it to be fact. But the shortcoming of the Jackson theory is this: what would anyone have to gain by setting the man up? I mean, hey, I hated Moonwalker as much as anyone, but I wouldn’t frame the guy for child molestation to get my kicks.
No my friends, this one is sadly very much a reality. We gotta accept that. For many people, this may be the equivalent of discovering that wholesome, likeable J.F.K. cheated on Jackie. Or learning that Mickey Mantle was a massive alcoholic. It’s a sad truth that diehard fans have to learn to deal with. Coming to Michael’s aid isn’t going to help him. Maybe in terms of morale, sure. But it’s not going to be able to sway twelve jurors. That’s what his attorneys are attempting to do. Please leave that job to them.
And please leave college radio alone. Just… just stop dipping into my Kool-Aid, will ya?
Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.
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