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11:14 p.m. : 2002-01-09 : Oh Jacko...

It�s a damn good thing you can�t buy plastic surgery at Wal-Mart. Eight-year-old Britney Spears fans copy her as much as possible� what would happen to all of the little M.J. fans? Ok, now, I love Off the Wall. I fell in love with old M.J. somewhere between Off the Wall and Thriller. My friend Jen Sermabeikian and I had The Michael Jackson Club in her shed/play house in the back yard. We used to have sleepover parties and do a variation on �light as a feather, stiff as a board� and some primitive hypnotherapy where one of us would get close to sleep, or in a semi-hypnotic state and the others would try to guide the dream into some sort of meeting or date with Michael Jackson. And he�s become the stuff of nightmares! Where�s that boy in the white suit with the tiger in the Thriller record centerfold?

And here he is tonight on CBS, singing my favorite song from seventh grade, �Billie Jean,� in all of his scary 2002 opalescent plasticine glow. Liz Taylor and Macauley Culkin are sitting together. And the screaming of the 12-year-old crowd is constant. It makes me sad. I keep expecting one of his arms to fall off. And what is that screaming that he does? Has he made himself into a plastic puppet because that�s what he knows from his childhood? He looks like a dummy, he dances like a marionette� Hmmm. This is what he knows. Maybe he has to feel that pressure for success. I�ve seen it happen with friends and guys I�ve dated. They hate the pressure from their mothers or fathers but when confronted with real life out of the bear-claw womb they don�t know how to survive without the pressure. So even though the pressure sucks, it�s better than nothing. It�s comfortable. Put on that hair shirt, boys and girls!

It began, as we all know, with that father. So M.J. didn�t want to look like him�that was the excuse for the first 3 nose jobs. And notice each epic video� in each video he was some sort of outcast and became more and more monstrous in conjunction with each. It all started with "Thriller," the quintessential �let�s use MTV to the hilt while it�s still exciting� high-budget vid. Ain�t no boring beautifully filmed greased up tits and ass in a helicopter landing next to a pool party in Suburban New Jersey, dripping with gold chains and fat men. There was "Beat It," where he almost got cut up by the other guy�see, he was thinking about more plastic surgery but ultimately solved it with dancing. If he could solve it all by dancing in the real world he would never have gotten any surgery. There was �Leave me Alone,� where he showed his kinship with fellow fragilite Liz Taylor. �Smooth Criminal,� representing his dark side that he tries to hide?/reveal? with the face changing. And then there was "Remember the Time," where he was transforming again and again into sand, into liquid-y Terminator stuff to escape the wrath of the king, being chased because he loved the queen, who was inappropriate for him because she was out of his league (like a little boy would be? Or maybe it just had to do with his father keeping away from the love of his mother by forcing him to be a workhorse). And then there was "Black or White"� the transformations going on in that song were groundbreaking! Even if they weren�t happening to him... he wanted transformation... and maybe wanted everyone else in the world to change just as much as him. And there was "Man in the Mirror"� he was looking at the man in the mirror, asking him to change his ways� well he certainly did. "Keep it in the Closet?" Oh I could go on forever.

Or maybe he�s making himself the monster that he was called a few years ago (Why does M.J. like K-Mart? Because boys' pants are always half off). He knows he�s whack-ass. Maybe he�s trying to make himself scarier and scarier so that kids leave him alone and he won't be tempted. I think it says a lot that he actually owns the Elephant Man�s bones. He relates to the Elephant Man because he feels like a monster. The difference is that the Elephant Man wasn�t a monster on the inside. And he didn�t have a choice.

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