The King of Pop Has Died...And I'm Just Gonna Shut My Trap!

As you must already know, Michael Jackson has passed away. From his debut at age 11 with his brothers, the world was not only in love, but mesmerized. He career sparked 13 number 1 singles, countless memories and a new direction in music. No one will forget Thriller, still the highest selling album ever. But please, I have to get this off my chest.

Him dying was probably the best thing that happened to minors across the globe, his estate and his obviously fucked up children.

Shhhh...I didn't just say that. I feel like Two Face in Batman. But homeboy wanted to be Peter Pan. Peter, mother effing Pan! Fine, I'll buy the vitiligo story, but what butcher used a meat clever on your jaw line, and a fruit peeler on your nose? (Lil' Kim, that's you in 20 years. Stop with the plastic bitch!) And how did those naps turn to silky tresses fit for a Garnier Commercial? I understand that we should never wish death on anyone. And I didn't wish that fate on him. But he was never gonna be strapped down in a padded cell on a Ritalin diet, like I felt he needed. At least until he realized he was no longer a child, but a man old enough to be a grandfather! (Reminiscing on Britney's 5150 Hold. Thank God for her parents.) No one dared to stop a man that needed to be saved; because of his wealth and name. At least he is in a place, where he will no longer be a harm to himself or anyone else. And there will be nothing but honesty and boys flying around with miniature fairies. SMH!