Wacko Jacko tribute
Oh poor old Michael.
This is like Elvis all over again. I should know, I grew up in Church of Elvis. Yeah, me and Elvie Boy, we’re like that.
Not that I’m Church of Michael or anything. Nor do I wish to get all evangelical. But who in their right mind couldn’t say he was a pop genius? And that level of fame and fortune is surely beyond anything. You could visit a tribal village in Africa and they’d probably know the moonwalk. Even my beloved Susanna Hoffs…she could moonwalk down the aisles of Asda and no-one would bat an eyelid. (Would quite like to see it, though.)
My brother had a battered up cassette of the ‘Bad’ album when we were little, and we used to mime to it whist jumping all over the three-piece suite. We never got to the bottom of who that ‘John Moore’ guy was, though. Something to do with Liverpool, no? And is Annie really OK? Answers on a postcard, please.
Speaking of which, I’ve just been glued to YouTube for the last couple of days watching all the old footage, and was horrifed when I came across the ‘Living With Michael Jackson’ debacle. Poor old unsuspecting Mikey Boy, sucked in like that. If it was Madonna, I’m sure she would’ve headbutted that journalist in the stomach and winded him on the spot.
The rebuttal, ‘Living with Michael Jackson, Take Two’, is way better, though. For all Wacko’s foibles, you gotta just kinda throw caution to the wind and consider another point of view. Not that the answer is blowing in the wind, mind you.
My friend, MJ. We’re not quite like me ‘n’ Elvis, but we’re getting there.