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Topic: Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award (Read 8621 times) |
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Walter Watts
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Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« on: 2009-06-26 02:29:18 » |
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Yowzah Yowzah Yowzah
So Michael Jackson died today. Big fucking deal. So did hundreds, if not thousands, of children with distended bellies all over the world. Where is their goddamn 24/7 news coverage?
Stupid fucking mindless meatpuppet sheeple asswad humanity on a stick!
The mass media is a device that humans built sometime in the twentieth century. It's a large satellite in space that receives everything humans do on earth, analyzes it, AUTOMATICALLY rejects anything positive, HUGELY amplifies the remaining negative, and beams it back to all the humans on earth. Why they built it I'll never understand.
That's 'bout all for tonight....
Walter
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Walter Watts
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MoEnzyme
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #1 on: 2009-06-26 15:49:24 » |
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Wow, did someone piss in your wheaties? 
Well, Thriller is STILL the number one all time selling album. Certainly you would expect SOME coverage for that alone. Probably more than any of those starving kids get, but those are the breaks.
Of course our media is going to overkill this story for about a week, so I know I'm gonna get annoyed before its over too. 
I'm not hearing anything that counts as an obvious Darwin Award. He WAS a bit young at 50, but its not like he died from auto-erotic-asphyxiation. If you can articulate something that leads you to that, I'll put you down as calling it early. Sounds like the ME has said the autopsy reports will be coming out by the end of the week . . . yes, yes, more media flurry to follow.
:::Mo sighs:::
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Mo Enzyme
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MoEnzyme
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #2 on: 2009-06-28 15:35:57 » |
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hmmmm, well, Walter may have been on to something there. I guess we may need to wait for toxicology reports. He, like Limbaugh, may have been doctor-shopping for perscription narcotic painkillers, an overdose of which could have concievably caused the autopsy confirmed cardiac arrest. I'm not sure it counts for an official Darwin award since I think the rules as I remembered them specifically excluded the typical accidental drug overdoses. Also excluded are intentional suicides, so I think he may not be a genuine Darwin award. In any case it seems that between Loyd's of London who was insuring him for his upcoming concert series and obsessed popular media, this case will get beaten to death many times over before it is finally resolved. So I assume we will stay tuned on this, . . . like we really have a choice.
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Hermit
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ne.Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #3 on: 2009-06-28 16:07:59 » |
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I left this alone for a bit to think about it not only because I largely agree with Walter's assesment that Michael Jacksons' decisions about his body indisputably contributed to his early demise under rather sad circumstances but also because I far preferred his prepubescent voice to his later efforts - and recognizing mime and jitterbug as the source of "his" moonwalk and other dance moves, I was never particularly impressed by his acts. So this isn't driven by personal sentiment, but rather by respect for a man smart enough to have bought the rights to most of the Beatle's works - and who personally generated well over a trillion Dollars (in 2009 Dollars). Not many people achieve anything near this.
What is maybe most interesting is that many of his fellow entertainers felt - before his death - that he was one of the greats. I think that this kind of tribute is meaningful. He made friends, and managed to keep some of them - even after losing his fortune. This too may be meaningful. A further indisputable reality is that despite the deep unpopularity of his Peter Pan mindset he managed to maintain the allegiance of millions of fans who recognized his albums as genre defining.
In addition, whatever else is said about him, it has to be acknowledged that by the time of his death he had reproduced at least 3 times - meaning that he was not in anyway eligible for a Darwin award even if he was literally an almost completely, and very badly, self-made man.
Kindest Regards
Hermit & Co
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With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion. - Steven Weinberg, 1999
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letheomaniac
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #4 on: 2009-06-29 06:55:47 » |
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[letheomaniac] A perfectly acerbic summation from Eileen Jones...
Source: Exiled Online
They're Dead, Thank God
I just saw an article headlined, “Michael Jackson Dead Too Soon at 50.” Dead too soon, you sadists? The more fitting headline, if you have any heart at all, is “Michael Jackson Dead Not a Moment Too Soon”! Because if ever there was a merciful release, for him and the whole wide world, this was it.
Jackson was about to start a big concert tour when blessed cardiac arrest came to the rescue. Why are we not all cheering whatever combination of drugs helped the miserable no-nosed sod out of this mortal coil? Can you imagine the ongoing carny freak show that was about to ensue? Frail, pale Jackson with a face like the Phantom of the Opera desperately moonwalking from city to city to pay off his 400 million dollar debt? And those gangs of pitifully weird fans, also aging in ghastly ways, turning out to watch, as if the International Association of Mental Institutions had all released their patients simultaneously for the occasion?
It’s monstrous, lamenting Jackson’s death, wishing him back in his bleached body and up on a stage somewhere wearing a glitter glove and grabbing his skeletal crotch. All that guff from people like Quincy Jones, who ought to know better, saying he had so much more to give. Nobody ever saw such a used-up husk of a person, such a walking corpse, as Michael Jackson. Couldn’t one honest person who knew him stand up and say, “Thank God that’s over!” He’s out of his misery now, and we don’t have to shudder at the sight of him anymore! There will be no more pathetic comeback CDs! No more offspring named Prince Michael III, IV, and V! Assorted children are safe from his creepy affections! O Death, where is thy sting, when it comes to Michael Jackson?
The fact is, Michael Jackson peaked at age ten, when he was still a black kid with a robust voice who could really belt it out: “OHHH baby give me one more CHAAAAAAANCE….” He’s the only guy in the world whose voice broke and got subsequently higher and reedier. It went from a fierce yowl too big for the kid’s body to a breathy contralto, and a speaking voice so exaggeratedly girly it sounded like Marilyn Monroe vocally reincarnated.
As so many have asked in the intervening years—what the hell happened to him? Was he an inadvertent castrato or something? Did his vicious father Joe do him some permanent injury to the groin area during one of the legendary childhood beatings? Or did Jackson himself make a bold first step toward achieving white girlhood, starting with the nuts and moving on to the nose?
The new soft breathiness of his voice was already noticeable in the ballad “Ben.” (That’s a love song fourteen-year-old Jackson sang to a rat. If you weren’t around in the ‘70s you wouldn’t understand about the whole vermin-film subgenre that seemed so right for that decade in America.) Even the more energetic songs he did later for Off the Wall and Thriller are airy and anemic compared with the splendid childhood stuff: “Bill-hee Jean is not my luv-huh…” Maybe it was the type of arrangements that were favored then, in that distressing era of ‘80s pop, but there seemed to be a lot of gratuitous “WHOOOs” and stuff in those songs, as if to show that Jackson could still throw out a big note when he wanted to.
Speaking of breathy voices, Farrah Fawcett’s dead too. We have a celebrity-death two-fer. Fawcett’s less interesting, of course, because she never had any talent to lose. The source of her fascination was how on earth she stayed famous for decades just from one poster that showcased her nipples. Plus a stupid hairdo that became a cultural blight. It wouldn’t go away. Up through the ‘90s, when I went back east to my hick hometown for a visit, I’d still see women flaunting that appalling flipped-back ‘do.
Critics and pundits are trying to make posthumous claims that Fawcett had substance (“A Serious Actress with Range” is the tile of Peter Hartlaub’s “appreciation”) but let’s be serious here for a moment. She was a terrible actress and a painfully dippy celebrity presence and a wearying exhibitionist too, judging by that rolling-naked-in-paint attempt at artistry for the Playboy Channel and the I’m-a-proud-anal-cancer-victim documentary with her mortifying fat git boyfriend Ryan O’Neill hogging the camera. Her death spares us further Farrah-docs, anyway. Shouldn’t there be some policy for putting celebrities down–like horses with broken legs who thrash around maiming themselves horribly–when they get past a certain point of public self-abasement? We shoot horses, don’t we?
But on the other hand, I have to admit, she was a courteous woman. That’s not a small thing. I can say this because I had a Farrah Fawcett encounter once, years ago. It was at a Hollywood party, a real cliché of a Hollywood party, with wall-to-wall stars and an almost incredible lack of revelry going on. Everybody was working, see, “making contacts,” showing themselves off to other industry bigshots, trying to move up a rank in the star hierarchy. It was quite a thing to watch, but one of the worst parties I ever attended if you cling to the standard notion of the word “party.”
I was one of the nobodies who happened to be there, for complicated reasons, so naturally I only talked to other nobodies while stars talked to other stars. I was in a line for the bathroom next to Farrah Fawcett, and she made polite conversation with me while we waited. An amazing breach of protocol! Never Engage the Nobodies is one of the basic rules of Hollywood stardom; don’t even make eye contact; they’ll only try to give you a script or something.
She was very small and thin and rather pretty considering the fact that she had grey skin, I remember. I’d never seen anyone with grey skin before, and I’ve wondered about it ever since. How does a person get grey skin? But that’s the thing with celebrities, it’s always a freak show of one sort or another. Mark Wahlberg, for example, is approximately four feet tall. Just FYI.
If we’re going to do death-tributes, here are some honest ones: Farrah Fawcett, a Surprisingly Polite Woman! Michael Jackson, If Only He’d Died Younger!
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Hermit
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #5 on: 2009-06-29 12:33:35 » |
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Ha! I linked those two has-been was-beings first at [ Church of Virus BBS,General,Arts & Entertainment,Unlikely Mix,2009-06-25,Hermit ].
Kindest Regards
Hermit & Co
PS, looking at the photographs again, I rather think that rather than self-made, perhaps he should be called self-unmade. Something about the last sepulchral mummified look reminds me of Proteus anguinus, the blind humanfish.
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With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion. - Steven Weinberg, 1999
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Walter Watts
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #6 on: 2009-06-29 20:12:53 » |
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Quote from: letheomaniac on 2009-06-29 06:55:47
[letheomaniac] A perfectly acerbic summation from Eileen Jones...
Source: Exiled Online
They're Dead, Thank God
<snip>
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Thanks letheomaniac! I thoroughly enjoyed the article.
It was BRUTALly.....honest.
With that said, I actually went away from the read with a more generous take on Ms. Fawcett due to the author's remembrance of an encounter with her:
"But on the other hand, I have to admit, she was a courteous woman. That’s not a small thing. I can say this because I had a Farrah Fawcett encounter once, years ago......<snip>"
"I was one of the nobodies who happened to be there, for complicated reasons, so naturally I only talked to other nobodies while stars talked to other stars. I was in a line for the bathroom next to Farrah Fawcett, and she made polite conversation with me while we waited. An amazing breach of protocol! Never Engage the Nobodies is one of the basic rules of Hollywood stardom; don’t even make eye contact; they’ll only try to give you a script or something."
I agree. Not a small thing indeed.
Best to you.
Walter
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Walter Watts
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letheomaniac
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #7 on: 2009-06-30 02:33:47 » |
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Quote:Ha! I linked those two has-been was-beings first at [ Church of Virus BBS,General,Arts & Entertainment,Unlikely Mix,2009-06-25,Hermit ].
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[letheomaniac] Oops! Sorry Hermit... 
Quote:| With that said, I actually went away from the read with a more generous take on Ms. Fawcett due to the author's remembrance of an encounter with her:... |
[letheomaniac] At first I thought "Another dead Hollywood bimbo. Good." but I also feel a little more kindly towards Ms. Fawcett now.
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Walter Watts
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #8 on: 2009-07-02 00:52:16 » |
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The Man in the Mirror
By James Howard Kunstler
on June 29, 2009 6:01 AM
As America entered the horse latitudes of summer, befogged in a muffling stillness on deceptively calm seas, we were distracted for a while by visions of a pale death angel moonwalking across the deck of collective consciousness. Eerie parallels resound between the sordid demise of pop singer Michael Jackson and the fate of the nation.
Like the United States, Michael Jackson was spectacularly bankrupt, reportedly in the range of $800-million, which is rather a lot for an individual. Had he lived on a few more years, he might have qualified for his own TARP program -- another piece of expensive dead-weight down in the economy's bilges -- since it is our established policy now to throw immense sums of so-called "money" at gigantic failing enterprises (while millions of ordinary citizens wash overboard, without so much as a life-preserver). Anyway, Michael Jackson was on the receiving end of one huge bank loan after another long after his pattern of profligacy was set and obvious. They threw money at him for the same reason that the federal government throws money at entities like CitiBank: the desperate hope that some miracle will allow debt servicing to resume. Michael could burn through $50-million in half a year. It didn't seem to affect his credibility as a borrower. When his heart stopped last week, he was living in a Hollywood mansion that rented for several hundred thousand dollars a month. You wonder how the landlord cashed those checks.
Like the USA, Michael Jackson was a has-been. He hadn't recorded a song worth listening to in over two decades. He had done almost nothing but spin his wheels, hop around the globe from one place to another at enormous expense, and make himself available for award ceremonies to stoke his ego (and give advertisers a reason to promote some televised award show). He existed strictly on image, an anorectic figure nourished by moonbeams of attention, famous for saying that he loved his worshippers when the truth was he merely sucked the life out of them. In his last years, he even looked a bit like Nosferatu, the personification of the un-dead, and his fascination with ghouls was the basis for his biggest hit way back in the last century. A zombie nation deserves a zombie mascot.
He was a poseur, vamping in weird military outfits as though he were a five-star general in the Honduran army, or a character from a melodrama by the reprobate Jean Genet. He once materialized during halftime at the Superbowl in a shower of sparks, thrilling the multitudes while grabbing and stroking his sex organs, as though that was a heroic activity -- and indeed the nation seemed to emulate him as its culture became dedicated more and more to acting out masturbation fantasies. America was a fat man jerking off on the sofa watching a vampire of no particular sex vogue deliriously on the boob tube.
More than once the authorities tried to pin charges of child molestation on him for suspicious activities at his boy-trap, Neverland Ranch, with its carnival rides, private zoo, video game galleries, and inexhaustible supplies of sugary treats. The first time he settled with the alleged victim's family for $22-million. They just walked away with the loot and happily shut up. The second time, he moonwalked out of a court-of-law while weeks later jurors mysteriously went on TV to say, well, they did kind of think after-the-fact that he really did those things he was accused of, but, you know.... The defendant himself behaved as though his trial were a TV celebrity challenge show on another planet, arriving on one occasion twenty minutes late in pajamas with some lame excuse about a backache. He spent the last years of his life wandering a few steps ahead of his creditors, gulling concert promoters into "comeback" schemes (with walking-around money up front), and with three bought-and-paid-for children, obviously not his own, for consolation.
When he dropped dead last week, the nation's morbidly maudlin response suggested a cover story for the relief of being rid of him and all the embarrassment he provoked. One CNN reporter called him a genius the equal of Mozart. That's a little like calling Rachel Maddow the reincarnation of Eleanor Roosevelt. A nation addicted to lying to itself tells itself fairy tales instead of facing a pathology report. Yet, like Michael Jackson, the undertone of horror story still pulses darkly in the background. The little boy who grew up to be the simulation of a girl was really a werewolf. The nation that defeated manifest evil in World War Two woke up one day years later to find itself stripped of its manhood, mentally enslaved to cheap entertainments, and hostage to its own grandiosity. Maybe in grieving so exorbitantly over this freak America is grieving for itself. All the loose talk about "love" from the media and the fans gives off the odor of self-love. America is "the man in the mirror," the gigantic, floundering Narcissus, sailing into the stormy seas of history.
Walter
PS--The Tinkerbell graphic was MY (co-opted) contribution
PS2--Be sure and enjoy the comments to JK's above weekly blog at:
http://kunstler.com/blog/2009/06/the-man-in-the-mirror.html#comments
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Walter Watts
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Blunderov
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Re:Walter Nominates Wacko Jacko for a Darwin Award
« Reply #9 on: 2009-09-06 16:53:47 » |
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[Blunderov] A wicked Private Eye cover to add to what must be far and away the best thread about Michael Jackson available on the internet. Yes folks step right up...
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