MICHAEL JACKSON SPOTTED-ALIVE!
My encounter with the King of Pop, Rock and Soul-days after his reported death!
I met Michael Jackson, in Flint, Michigan. Today-and that’s no lie. I was walking down the sidewalk minding my own business, hoping I didn’t get jumped by some cracked out gangbanger or meet up with a pack of wild dogs. Flint’s nasty. Whole neighborhoods abandoned. No jobs. No businesses, about. There are places you just don’t go to, and I was taking a route around one of those when I saw him.
Naw, that’s crazy. He’s dead-but there he was! He wasn’t wearing any of those sequined band leader outfits, or have that glove but it was him with that overly touched up pixie nose, straightened out hair, bleached skin-shuffling about. Either someone went through a lot of trouble to look like 50 year old Michael Jackson… which given Flint’s zombie economy is a whole lot more improbable… or… or media reports of him dead are not so true after all.
Now, I know, I know: everyone’s reporting that the Moonwalker is dead and probably awaiting his second autopsy. Seems his doctor gave him Demerol and some other medicines that obviously didn’t do him any good. Then Michael turns, like he’s expecting me.
“Sup.” I say.
“What’s going on?” Down to that soft, sweet soprano voice! This can’t be! What’s Michael Jackson doing kicking it in Flint, Michigan?!
…Hell with it, I’m bored-I’ll play along…
“So, what are you doing in Flint?
“I live here now.”
“Why?” Yeah-why aren’t you on your comeback tour? Or is this your strategy; fake your death, gain all your dignity back after your “death” and then come back and stage the ultimate comeback tour?!
“Now I know what your thinking but, yeah, all us dead celebrities are hiding out in these industrial ghost towns. Last place anyone will look.
“So is Farrah Fawcett here?”
“No. Sorry. That guy who did the Oxyclean commercials is dead too-bumped his head too hard landing, died later-just like that… who was that-Natasha Richardson.”
“No shit!” Damn, he died too!
“Yeah. He’s going to Cleveland. Ed McMahon there as well, says with the US government killing off the auto industry there should be plenty of ghost towns sprouting up. Nobody would think of looking for their passed away idols where they’d more likely find themselves dead. I’d stay out of that neighborhood over there if I were you.” And MJ points at the neighborhood I was staying the hell away from in the first place: though about all of Flint is like the proverbial gas station restroom.
“Okay” I laugh, “this is pretty good-tasteless as all hell but this is funny. Dude, I gotta give props to the effort you put into your getup.”
“Dude I ain’t playing. In fact I’m waiting for Elvis Presley to roll up.”
I put my hand to my forehead, shake. This is getting ridiculous-but wait, there’s more:
“We gonna hit some bars, hang with some dudes, get drunk-y’know. Shit I couldn’t do when I was living. Man… my dad messed me up! I know a lot of people wished they were me, had my talent… okay had my talent, but damn! You know what its like to have your childhood totally denied to you, worked 12 hours a day singing, performing?!, You wind up overcompensating?! The shit my old man did to us…” I couldn’t tell whether Michael was more angry or sad. Or at least this Michael; it’s not like I’m going to believe Michael used a body double to fake his death or resurrect like The Crow.
Then this shit gets even more surreal.
Elvis Presley does show up… okay someone who could pull off a mean Elvis impersonation… rolls up in a 76 Cougar, just a bit dirty on the outside, lived in quite well inside; cracked leather seats, ashtray full of butts, a growing stack of empty liquor bottles in the back floorboards. The other King had a bit of growth of gray streaked beard framing a craggy, well worn face, and cigarette dangling from his lips like he didn’t give a fuck about it. Not like an Elvis impersonator at home out of his character, but Elvis if he’s spent the past decade in Flint hanging low. Just the most contemptible look in his eyes he casts about this whole sorry ass town I got no ideal why I’m at.
“Is that really-“
“Yep. That’s the King.”
“Damn.” Two dead music icons in a few minutes-who else is gonna roll by?
“What’s really going on here?”
“Look” Michael said. He had the look of someone who had a LOT to say; “there’s some things we have to talk about.”
“You sure you’re not some impersonator? Cuz they got treatment for-”
“-Damn we don’t got time for this! The country’s going down the fucking tube and you of all people are jacking around with me! The whole country used to bust on me for those… charges and now I’m dead they all worshipping me!”
Elvis stops, gets out. No he wasn’t in his gay white karate suit but he was still fat in an old man way. He had a bottle of Thunderbird in one hand too, oversized t-shirt to hide the gut, cargo pants. Wouldn’t know he was Elvis Presley.
“How y’all doing?” Dude certainly had that Elvis Presley drawl though. Certainly had that Flint ghetto attitude along with it. Just rough-it was quite the dichotomy.
“O-kay.” I managed.
“Flint’s pretty fucked up ain’t it?”
“Well, I’m expecting the History Channel to show up anytime, start filming season two of Life After People.”
“That’s a good one there, J” Michael laughed. So did Elvis. It wasn’t a mirthful laugh…
Elvis gets a little closer. He wasn’t a happy dead celebrity either. “That bullshit’s propaganda they put out, conditioning, to get you out of your survival instinct as the goddamn inbreeds you write about kill us off. Like your blog by the way.
“You read all that?”
Elvis takes a swig, adorably contemptuous about laws against public intoxication“…You see what they did to my adopted town; fucking corporations got everyone dependent on them for jobs making cars more fucked up year after year. Now those jobs are gone because the government makes making shit in this country economically impossible so the place is a shithole. Fucking eugenics! They’re killing us off! You watch dude, they’re going to use the carbon taxes, that cap and trade bullshit, to regulate us, steal from us until we starve and freeze us to death. Or fight-and you know those 300lb sacks of diabetic fat can only shoot their mouths off. Those tin badge gods gonna have a good time killing those fools off.. Not to mention all the lethal so-called vaccines they going to make us take at fucking gunpoint!”
I don’t remember Elvis cursing like this. Or talking like this. He definitely had gone native living in Flint, but his politics… he must be on infowars.com.
Elvis patted his belly: “Still got my .45.” Elvis turns to Michael “y’know you get to have dudes impersonate you now.”
“Watch half of them are pedophiles…” something in Michael was coming to the surface…”Croft, you know what its like to be called a child rapist? Yeah, I had children over, for sleepovers, to be friends with. I didn’t have a chance to develop like a normal person, I was fucking Michael Jackson! Fucking King of Pop, Rock and Soul! You know what its like being famous? Everyone’s out to get a piece of you; and if they can’t leech off you they’ll sue you or get you in trouble, just to get something through the court. You know I am MU’FUCKING GLAD I’M DEAD!”
“Amen to that.” Flint Elvis took a swig, holds it out to me. I take the T-bird in hand take a swig: something about cheap, high powered wine. So ghetto-but I suppose going ghetto’s a great way for Elvis Aaron Presley to blend in, go incognito. I hand it off to Michael Jackson and the dude started belting that shit!
“Damn I hope you’re getting me another one.”
“Sorry.” Michael hands the alcohol back to Elvis “I needed that. Anyway, what we need to tell you J is this: you gotta tell people to stop grieving over me so much, or let the media whip them into grieving me like I was the second coming.”
“Only one King of Kings.” Elvis added. “Meanwhile those congress-cocksuckers just passed a 1300 page bill, gonna make the whole country into fucking Flint, Michigan.”
“And you know that other cocksucker, Obama, is going to sign it with his Indonesian commie ass.” And I didn’t know Michael Jackson could talk like that either. “People are going to lose what jobs they got. They’re going to become government inspectors and make themselves and everyone around them even more miserable than they already is going into their homes and writing fines. Call free speech “cyberbullying”, put you under federal charges-you better watch your ass J, they’re going to be after you when that bill’s signed.”
“I could throw the fucker at someone and hurt em’” Elvis was good at butting in. “I got my .45 and a double barrel when I’m rolling through town-you know how Flint is.” I got the M1 Garand with armor piercing rounds when the tin badge gods bust down my door looking for guns.”
“Well, why don’t you two do something about it?” Reasonable enough question, the two are/were rich and powerful. Did they still have control of their fortunes or did they have to give that up to go incognito-wait, now I’m believing this bullshit…
“Dude we’s dead.”(I’m still going along with this shit) “Even when we was alive we couldn’t do much of anything. Both of us were watched, all the time. We had handlers and agents and managers and executives who made certain we said the right things at the right time. Wind up like JFK if we tried the ol’ frontal assault trying to tell the truth y’know? Price of fame.”
“Wasn’t really worth it thinking back about it” Elvis said. He kills the T-bird in a mighty swig and chucks the empty bottle against a collapsing house, taking out one of the last intact window panes with a crash. Nobody was around to say anything. “In my time I wouldn’t be able to bust out a window-I’d been arrested… well, I’d have to get out of it. But our point: you need to tell everyone that Michael’s death and the media cult of worship set up for him is distracting from what’s really important-the traitors in the government finishing off this country.”
Michael turns to me. “People has got to stop letting themselves get their brains zonked out watching TV all night. Ain’t nothing on there but lies and distractions-like me. They has got to stop buying bullshit they ain’t going to use again and prepare for this fall!”
“The fall? What happens in the fall?”
Elvis chortled “you think shits fucked up now, you wait until the insurance market collapses, the commercial real estate bubble collapses, the quad-whatever dollar derivatives market collapses, hyperinflation sets in as those federal reserve motherfuckers finish off the dollar bailing themselves off and buying everything that’s left.”
“Gonna be some pissed off people” I said.
It was Michael’s turn to preach to the choir(me, not you-you need to hear this): “About fucking time. Without the TV-and me to worship-maybe they’ll finally pay attention to what their public servants . You ask us why don’t we do something about this shit? Why don’t the American People stop sopping up American Idol and the lies on the so-called news channels, and the hundred goddamn cop shows and look, see how things are. Maybe it’s too late-to turn things around-but it’s not too late to get together, prepare and find ways to survive what’s coming. Having control of a few out of the way towns with local power sources and a good mix of agriculture and light industry-but all that you already spelled out in your writings.”
“People don’t read.”
“People do.” Michael was looking at me, hoping to spark something. “J man, people gots to fight for what’s theirs. The same people who promoted me to virtual godhood are using my death to distract people from them finishing looting the country. And if America falls, if her People don’t arise and wrench themselves from the beast and it’s government, culture and economy and begin to reclaim their minds, souls, lives and government they will die. Die of starvation when this time next year unemployment’s at 50%, or fighting in the Middle East because of oil, or from a vaccine, or a government issued bullet for protesting, or just because some bully cop wants to up his arrest record.”
“I’ll say this; your politics are sure different from when you were alive-this ain’t some ‘we are the world’ shit.”
“Naw, we are the world-but we let others run it. This is our world. We should run it, decide how to live, have clean technology and whatnot. Instead we let others run it while we wait for the weekend ball game. Look where it’s got us. I’m dead. You’re in Flint.”
“Well so are you two. I’ll give it my best. It’s all I can do I suppose. So, where you going again? I could use a night out”
Michael started for Elvis’ vintage Cougar-too bad he was riding that thing into the ground, that thing needed a restoration job bad…
“Sorry-this a dead celebrity thing only. Besides you got this vision to write down. Don’t forget to include links to your other articles, so people can begin to figure out what the hell we’re talking about.”
I watch the two get in. Elvis starting up the engine-man that was a sweet rumble from that V8, Michael slouching down lighting up… a JOINT?!!. “You think they can handle that much reading?”
Elvis shrugged. “I got to believe they can. Hey Mike pass me that joint, man-you ready to get tore the fuck up tonight?”
“Hell yeah! Later J.”
I waved, watching them fly down the street just racing that old Cougar through this town of boarded up buildings, crackheads, and shit just all over the place. I wondered if those that read this can understand that this was a parable-using media deified entertainers against their creators in a blow for Freedom.
I wonder if they can understand that and take the next step, which is stop living their lives through other people’s fantasy designed to make them impotent but for going to work for not even 5% of the fruits of their labor-the corporation they work for keeping the benefits. That 5% the US government is angling to take more than half of that. Two percent left-and every salami slice tax, corporate fee, interest payment, what have you is squeezed out of them.
What’s left? Lint? And grey hairs?
There’s a better way, but your first and hardest goal is to have that epiphany that about everything you’ve been told is a lie. That the new god you are to worship, Michael Jackson-who just the previous week was the butt of a whole cottage industry of pedophile jokes-is but another distraction for you to keep your eyes off the ball. That ball being the cap and trade bill about to be passed through the Senate. Call your senator. You have two of them and you need to express your outrage that they’d try and vote on a 1300 page bill they got only a single copy of for the entire Congress and were given like, ten minutes to read. That’s how the nazi-ass “patriot” acts were rammed through-prewritten-right after 9/11. Wake up already.
And do some reading. You got a steep enough learning curve. Go HERE:
WHAT HAVE WE DIED FOR? ON FIGHTING OTHER PEOPLES WARS
THE LAST COMMANDMENT OF JESUS
ISN’T THIS THE LAND OF THE FREE?
LOSE YOUR DAMN ILLUSIONS
THE POWER OF NO!
MARTIAL LAW SURVIVAL GUIDE
MESSAGE TO THE PATRIOT MOVEMENT
MESSAGE TO THE LATINO-LEGAL OR OTHERWISE
MESSAGE TO THE AMERICAN CELEBRITY
MESSAGE TO MR. AND MRS. AMERICA
MESSAGE TO THE U.S. SOLDIER
THE TWO AMERICAS
MESSAGE TO THE LEFT, AND THE RIGHT
MESSAGE TO THE AFRICAN-AMERICAN
MESSAGE TO THE FEDERAL AGENT
ONCE UPON A NIGHT AT A BAR, WITH A TRAITOR
BEWARE THE POLICE
THE REAL RACISTS
DEBT REPUDIATION: IT’S TIME TO FREE YOURSELVES FROM FRAUD
MESSAGE TO THE VETERAN
SECOND AMERICAN REVOLUTION VICTORY GUIDE
CHURCHGOER …OR CHRISTIAN?
YOU WILL GIVE UP YOUR GUNS
YOU ARE THE MILITIA
NO MORE PAYING TAXES
FINAL WARNING TO THE POLICE OFFICER
WHERE’S MY BAILOUT?!
TELEVISION: THE ELECTRONIC NARCOTIC
WORKING FOR CASH: KEY TO ECONOMIC FREEDOM
MESSAGE TO THE SPORTS FAN
NOBODY SHOULD HOLD YOUR HAND
RECALL ELECTION: OBSTACLES TO OVERCOME
MESSAGE TO THE POLICE OFFICER
DEFEATING THE GREAT POLICE STATE GUN ROUND UP
WHAT’S A DOLLAR?
PROOF US GOVERNMENT CONTROLS THE DRUGS
RIOTS NEVER WIN THE WAR
ACTIVIST SURVIVAL GUIDE