In 1993 Michael Jackson was forced to pay $25 million to the family of then-13-year-old Jordie Chandler largely because Chandler was able to identify with great accuracy distinctive features of the King’s penis.
MJ had a warning system of alarms and surveillance cameras set up outside the bedroom where he unapologetically admitted to having “sleepovers” with young boys.
A photo album full of pictures of naked boys was confiscated from Neverland. He had a drawer in which he kept a collection of his little friends’ underwear.
Michael Jackson represented the dregs of humanity, a scumbag of the dirtiest order, a man who was repeatedly accused of fondling, sucking-off, masturbating to and with young boys.
What a mistake of a human being.
What an insufficient retribution — having him only burn in hell for the rest of eternity.
But if you watched MTV’s Video Music Awards you’d get a very different portrait of the thankfully-deceased freak. You’d think the dude’s strolling through heaven at this very moment. (As if he’d be able to keep his pale paws from grabbing at the prepubescent penises all around him.)
Madonna once again displayed her utter stupidity by delivering a tribute to Jackson at the top of the show in which she called him a “hero” and stated with great pride that her four and nine year old sons are “obsessed” with MJ. (If only Jackson knew! He’d have given those kids the treatment in a heartbeat!) The show went on to feature a lot of praise and musical tributes and general MJ-adoration that was downright offensive to anyone with any sense of morality and/or reality.
After just five minutes of the VMA’s I was so angry and confused at the crap they were shoving down our throats (don’t think he didn’t do that either) that I didn’t even notice when Kanye threw his little hissy fit. Madonna used the words “witch hunt” and “lynch mob” to describe people with the balls to call a deranged, dangerous sex offender a deranged, dangerous sex offender. She actually said, “I felt his pain.”
Is that some kind of joke? This guy abused his fame and was subsequently accused of seducing defenseless young boys from broken homes. People have said that he took them to his room and got them drunk and did unspeakable things to them. And that these crimes caused real, life-ruining damage to an untold number of boys. He destroyed these kids. The aforementioned Jordie Chandler hasn’t spoken to his mother since 1993 and can’t escape the harassment of Jackson’s hardcore, delusional fans. What about his pain? What about the trail of broken lives left in Jackson’s wake?
You can’t just ignore these horrifying truths and call him a hero because he made Thriller. The only good thing about Jackson — his music — didn’t die with him. You can still listen to “Black and White” and watch the “Bad” video on Youtube. So why did the VMAs paint his death as this massive tragedy?
The world is better off without Michael Jackson — finally and triumphantly he can do no more harm. Stick a fork in his ass, don’t call him a hero. At the very least restrict the adoration to his music; don’t generalize that praise to include Jackson the man.
Even Russell Brand, the self-declared edgy host of the VMAs, had a somber moment in his monologue where asked the audience to dedicate the night to the infamous Kiddie-Tickler.
As I sat there on my girlfriend’s couch watching a replay of the show, I felt an overriding sense of embarrassment. There on the screen was a theatre full of rich, successful people applauding the tribute to a guy who loved little boys in a very inappropriate way. And just the thought of one of Jackson’s now-grown up victims quaking in his room alone as he watched the tribute made me feel nauseous.
It’s a sad commentary on our culture — that as much as we mock celebrities we can’t help but love them. Intrinsic to that love is giving them the benefit of a doubt. We’re so quick to criticize little things (haha look at Lindsay Lohan’s vagina, she’s such a slut) but when things get serious we clam up. People love Michael Jackson to the point that his death resulted in a total recalibration of the public perception of him. Suddenly he wasn’t this weird pale freak but a genius, a visionary, a hero, an inspiration. It’s disgusting watching things like the VMAs try to minimize the defining fact of his life until it disappears from public memory.
What sort of sickness does America have that we can’t bring ourselves to acknowledge reality and admit that this guy was an evil, hell-bound person?
Your children won’t know Michael Jackson was a child molester.
30 years from now another celebrity sex offender will die and the sins of his past will be buried with him while a mourning crowd prays tribute. And those whose lives he shattered will die some time later and no one will cry for them.
Tony Manfred is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He may be reached at email@example.com. The Absurdity Exhibition appears alternate Tuesdays this semster.