Michael Jackson took one for the team.
And by team, I mean the military-industrial-media-infotainment complex, the sinister (but entertaining!) organization that aims to infiltrate the brains of the Western World with images so delightful and fluffy and exuberant and wonderful that you wouldn’t for the life of you be interested in learning about what’s going on with, all together now:
- Osama bin Laden
- Health Care
- The Economy
- Social Security
- The House of Representatives
- Carrot Top
And so on.
MJ stepped up – you really have to hand it to him. In sports parlance, you could say he “sacked up,” but that might lead to all sorts of fanciful innuendo so I’ll lay back in the cut on that one. He came out and put on a show that the whole world was ready and willing to take and embrace in its collective water cooler theatre. The military-industrial-media-infotainment complex (I like to call them MIMIC, but again, that’s just me) really hit it out of the park by Selecting the aging whacko pop war horse. You’ve really got to hand it to them.
Indeed, after several smash rating seasons of OJ: He of the Bloody Glove, who would have thought the Gloved One himself could have Ascended to take the throne.
The Celebrity Trial Throne.
But that’s the past. People want to see some action. People are fickle. People want to see sex and scandal and gore and analysis and Crisis.
And they also want to see courtside reporters and breaking news and wonderful blissful logos and neon and interrupted broadcasts (General Hospital can wait, no worries there) and magic caustic wisdom by People Who Profess to Know.
The Hangover Times have already begun. It’s been a good run, a good decade really, filled with OJ and Peterson and Kennedy(s) and That Guy From That Show From Back in the Day and That Other Music Producer Dude.
And on and on.
But can a new celebrity be trotted out in time for the new season to begin?
Undoubtedly MIMIC is even now furiously working to bust out a Fall season of superstar scandal to bedazzle the ages.
Just think big with me here, people:
Will Donald Trump be caught with his hand (and or hair) in the cookie jar?
Can Willis from Diff’rent Strokes, Erkel from Family Matters and Screech from That Screech Show get away with stealing the Priceless Rubies from the Louvre?
Will Paris Hilton successfully deploy the Rambaldi device in time?
That would be something, wouldn’t it?
Man, I barely know what to do with myself while I’m waiting.
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