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The Court of Public Opinion Is BACK! Docket for Month of June - Part 2

You didn't expect the Court Of Public Opinion to be back, eh?
by Cristopher Revilla and Marc Kandel

ALL RISE MOTHERFUCKERS! Oyez Oyez Oyez, This Kourt is back in session, Judges Grandma Tiberius Dynamite and Severus Slydorff are once again presiding.

Judge Slydorff: Very well, we shall proceed with the remaining of our docket. Judge Dynamite will join us shortly, and let's all hope and pray he's still got a marriage left. Ahem, anyhow...

THE CASE: Hilton Hears a Boom Boom Pow

THE DEFENDANT: Scumbag “Journalist” Mario Lavandeira AKA Perez Hilton

THE CHARGE: Going above and beyond behavior accepted from the most slavering of drama queens to the point where Perez throws his own subculture under the bus in his girlfighting fervor, proving that nothing is more important to this self-absorbed POS than reading his own name in the headlines.

THE EVIDENCE: If there’s one thing that separates this site from the rest of the vermin of film quote-whores and punch liners is that we say things as they are, and tell the truth about what we are seeing. If someone doesn’t like what we say, tough shit.

This is what happened to good old Serge Rodnusky when he tried to go all legal on us when Chris Parry trashed his movie as piece of shit. This is what happened to Nick Swardson and his movie pal Jamie Kennedy when they mouthed off because we hated Grandma’s Boy and Son of the Mask and we said it to their face.

When we lash out at somebody, there's a reason, be it a shitty movie, stupid behavior, lame jokes, deleting our Imdb threads (I know we can't discuss this, but a certain power-mad Transformers producer WILL get his bloated ass handed to him when the stars are right), etc. We never bash anyone for the hell of it (or if we do its in a private forum with lots of smiley face icons rather than the front page where we conduct our bidness), we don't make ourselves part of the story (unless said Transformers producer's despicable arrogant behavior forces our mighty hand) and we NEVER draw first blood (at least, not when we abide embargoes).

Unfortunately not all journalists are as professional or ethical as we are.

Enter Perez Hilton, real name Mario Lavandeira.


FUN FACT: If it weren’t for the change of the “r” between the vowels, "Lavandeira" would mean “Laundromat” in Spanish – hmmn.. I like that.

Mario "Dirty" Laundromat makes a living not only by spouting off his nasty opinions (to which he’s entitled), but also ripping new assholes in celebrities all over the world for no other reason than to be a prick. We don't care too much about that. This is the internet after all.

He has his moments; We'll grant him some pithy comments, funny observations and when that's worn thin he pulls his signature move: drawing semen on people’s mouths followed by mores smart-ass remarks, re-energized thanks to his seminal post-its. A world class wit at work here folks. Trust us. We smell our own.

However the chickens have to roost sometime and our favorite fey fop ultimately hit the wrong note with some with his targets. Witness the MuchMusic Awards in which the Hilton Celeb Laundromat was one of the presenters. When recently confronted by one of his abused, Hilton, a card-carrying homosexual, goes off on a tirade that would make a twenty-year Texas fag-dragger proud.

The following is a construction for the Court to understand these events from differing points of view taken from Perez’s own statement: http://perezhilton.com/2009-06-22-my-statement and Black Eye Peas leader will.iam: http://dipdive.com/member/iamwill/media/48837 and http://dipdive.com/member/iamwill/media/48856

So what really happened that night? Speculation music please:

According to Perez, during a rehearsal for the MuchMusic Awards presentation, Fergie confronted him about shit spouted about her and the Black Eyed Peas. Perez apparently made his point once again that “hey, I don’t hate you, I just hate your new album.”

Fergie brought up the matter again during the after-show party (in the interim, Perez claims he got elbowed by one of the Peas’s entourage). Perez (and this is where will.i.am’s statement comes in) repeated his words only much louder. Fergie, supposedly pissed and emotional, tells will.i.am (who was DJ-ing at the party) about what happened.

Turning up the Speculation Music: The only reason Fergie would go to will.i.am for help is probably because Perez said something like this: “Look, I’m a journalist, I’m objective, I liked your previous album, I gave you props for it and you deserve it, but your new album is a piece of shit and you better take it like a man instead of whining like a fugly bitch who can’t take the panning,” If you were in Will’s shoes, what would you do if a guy like Perez not only said that to your best friend, but said it loud and clear all the way to exit so everyone could hear it?


So the next time Will.i.am spots Perez, he decides to confront him. From Perez’s statement:

"Will I Am from the Black Eyed Peas comes into the club, SEES me like a Heat Seeking Missile and comes toward me! And he says: “Yo, I need you to do me a favah. I need you to nevah write about my band on your website again.” RIGHT IN MY FACE—he was saying this. Very aggressively. I was not wanting or trying to antagonizing…antagonize him…so I say “Okay, I’ll try.” And he’s like, “NO! I need you to NEVAH write about mah BAND on your WEBSITE again!” He’s like THIS close to me, and SCREAMING."

Of course he’s going to come to you jack-off. Did you really expect him to grab you by the hand and take you some place private and speak to you in the ear? You insulted band-mates friends and their work both publicly and on your website.

So Perez continues his fucking shpiel (probably went something like this: “I love your work with Fergie, and the Pussycat Dolls, but your latest album fucking sucks, you don’t like what I said? Tough shit”). Will.i.am then asks Perez: “Why do you disrespect me?” Clearly Will.i.am is angry that Perez is not taking any of his statements seriously. The argument goes on for a bit, and how does Perez Laundromat ultimately shows his respect at Will.i.am? By first getting the thought into his head that Will was intimidating him and of course ignoring what he was saying. So, instead of pausing and reconsidering, and completely obvlivious to what was been argued just an instant before, went on instinct (an what astonishing instinct) and laid it out by yelling at Will.i.am the following: “And you know what? I don’t need to respect you! And you’re a FAG. You’re gay, and stop being such a FAGGOT. YOU’RE NOT AN ARTIST, YOU’RE A FAGGOT!”

Aaaand that’s when the Peas’s manager Pilo Molina came up and punched Hilton in the eye and some other place in his body, maybe his balls. Since this was a public place filled with people screaming and hollering, Will.i.am probably was too busy to notice who was hitting Perez, hence why he says originally in his statement that he thought it was a fan that got him while he was just trying to get out of there, waiting at the sidewalk for his car to pick him up (Molina afterwards turned himself to the authorities after the incident).

Perez responded him later by calling him a liar, but analyzing both statements, Will.i.am didn’t sound like he was lying, otherwise he would not have said such an earnest thing like: “But this goes to show you how crazy things can get! It’s not that serious, it’s all music and opinions, people make a career from opinions, which is cool. But don’t be disrespecful about it, and fans don’t be disrespectful about it.

But wait, it gets more bizarre. Instead of calling the Police, Perez texted on Twitter what happened instead:

"I'm in shock. I need the police ASAP. Please come to the SoHo Metropolitan Hotel now. Please ... I was assaulted by Will.I.Am of the Black Eyed Peas and his security guards. I am bleeding. Please, I need to file a police report. No joke."

What I find interesting is that he never mentions Will’s manager at all in this twitter, and yet later on in his statement, he affirms that it was Pilo that nailed him. How come you didn’t immediately ID him in the first place and instead claimed that Will hit you (and such statement didn’t sit well with Will at all, you know?)? That’s the first question; second question (and I second Will.i.am in this), what the fuck were you doing Twittering while your face was bleeding instead of calling the police? And, according to YOUR OWN statement, you didn’t even call the Police until AFTERWARDS, when by coincidence the Peas were going to the very same hotel that you were going to, and you got all paranoid thinkging that they were coming out to get you (I guess in all the shock he forgot that as a celeb journalist, you have to be holed up in the same hotel where most of the celebrities are in order to catch the latest and greatest). To quote Will.i.am from his video: "Sounds like somebody wants mad attention and is not really concerned with his health."

I’m sure the audience as well as Perez supporters (and maybe even Perez himself) will try to rip our own speculative analysis and call it lies. But let’s use common sense here, of the two statements, which of the two are actually trying to defuse and explain the situation better and more professionally? Perez or Will.i.am?

Will at least is trying to explain things and tone things down. Perez however, goes into rant mode in his response, wailing and squealing like a fucking bully who just got nailed in the ass by someone that stood up against him. In his diatribe, he uttered the following hilarious quotes:

“Violence is never the answer EVER. No matter what anyone says... You know, I know that I say things that can really upset people. But that’s never a reason to hit someone… Because no one deserves that. Violence is NEVER the answer. I could have told Will I Am I hope he dies… I could have told him that I hope Fergie sits on a stick and impales herself. I could have said anything I WANTED. That was NOT an excuse for THEIR MANAGER to attack me!!”

Clearly Mr. Perez Laundromat doesn’t know anything about “dishing it out and then taking it” like he so loudly and proudly boasted earlier in his statement, because anyone that knows about these things, knows that VIOLENCE DOES NOT EXIST IN A VACUUM! If you insult people, if you provoke them, if you give them shit about who they are and what they do, you really expect that they’re going to sit there and just go “yeah Perez, yeah?” Fuck no. At the very least they’ll tell you to shove your claims up your ass, but at the very most, they’ll fucking knock your head down, and in the business that you’ve chosen, you god damn better learn how to take some fucking shots, even physical ones, because that’s what your bullshit comments provoke.

Not that I’m condoning Pilo’s actions, and it’s easy to say that “yes, he shouldn’t have resorted to violence.” But come on, you bust somebody’s balls enough, he or she will retaliate. That’s how it always is. But I digress. Here’s this next piece of laugh-out-loud drama queen shit:

“I have 10 million plus people who visit my website every DAY. I don’t NEED press.
I don’t NEED publicity. I don’t NEED or WANT this. I didn’t ASK for this. I didn’t DESERVE this. I like writing about other people’s drama. I don’t want drama into my own life… And you know what? I may not do something that makes everyone happy or proud, but I would never hurt someone like that…and I did not deserve what happened to me.”


ROFL, oh man. Pot. Kettle. Black. “I don’t want this publicity, I didn’t deserve this. I just write shit about people and insult them all over, and I don’t expect any repercussions from what I write. I DON’T DESERVE TO GET MY ASS KICKED IF I CALL SOMEONE A FAGGOT IN HIS FACE! ME! An openly GAY man who called on Isaiah Washington to be fired for uttering the word FAGGOT on the set of Greys Anatomy and succeeding in doing so!”

Compared to several other Paparazzi and gossip boys and girls who go around snooping into celebrities and really getting their asses kicked, I can’t think of anything more pathetic than this man and his statement here. A man who just by looking in his video was going all bitchy and guns blazing over a simple superficial flesh wound. At least those guys, whom I hate as much as I hate you, really get hurt in the line of duty yet they continue to do what they do with pride. You want to play with fire and expect to not get burned? And On top of that, continue to insult people, calling Will.i.am a liar and Fergie a Fugly bitch, after the fact that you got burned big time? You’re such an inmature piece of shit.

THE VERDICT: So Guilty I want to vomit all over his pink shirt.

THE SENTENCE: This Court sentences Mario Perez Laundromat Hilton to be anally and facially raped by every one of the celebrities he has insulted and pissed on for the last five years, and that a picture of his fucked up face appears on all celebrity websites with semen coming out of his mouth only this time it won’t be like Perez’s photos where he just drew it in.

This court orders Mr. Hilton to apologize not only to GLAAD for making them look like morons since they thought you were a legitimate gay spokesman, but to every single blogger and reporter for making a complete ridicule out of the profession of journalism, The court Orders Mr. Hilton to start writing more objective news and gossip reports from here onwards. Failure to obey with these instructions will result in a collective drive sponsored by this Court to all the celebrity neighborhoods in Beverly Hills in order to get someone to make your little ass end up like Jose Luis Lopez De La Calle. What? You don’t know who he is? You’re a journalist, look it up!

To his sponsors and the TV people that want him to give him his own show, you WILL oversee that Perez Hilton becomes a more legitimate journalist instead of acting like a whiny bitch who can’t take a poke, and only then grant him the money to get his show on high gear. Failure to do that will result in the Kourt going after you and ripping you a new one, and you better fucking believe when we tell you that we know where to dig.

To the Black Eyed Peas- your music sucks. Its pandering, ghetto wannabe bullshit fronted by a pair of tits (a nice pair, but its an old trick)- own it and do better.

------

Judge Dynamite: I'm finally back. All's fine with the missus, so nothing to worry about. Glad this whole thing didn't end up like the dumbass Governor from South Carolina, though I'd could use a Government Money-sponsored vacation.

THE CASE: Its not a perfect life... but its OUR life. Yes it is... how does it taste?

THE DEFENDANTS: Jon & Kate... John & Kate... a squeaking, unwelcome mantra inside my skull. Kate. Kaaaaaaaayte. Hate. Berate. Intimadate. Eviscerate. Immolate. Christ even her name is acerbic. Jon. hmmn. I've got nothing. Its "Jon".
The Learning Channel (Discovery, Bravo, etc.)
Minors exempt from prosecution- just stop that fucking screeching- I can't tune it out. Before I started paying attention to the show I had to ask my wife, the original viewer, why we, with or without kids, would want to subject ourselves to that goddam cacophony in our living room any sooner than necessary. I think that alone pushed back my willingness to have children by a year- too bad I had already knocked her up.

DISCLOSURE: If this was Real World or Rock of Love I'd shrug and move on; those besotted lummox deserve every heaping help of awful served up, but this particular show is on TLC. Its supposed to be educational, even uplifting, like training a troubled dog properly, watching a dumb Italian make wedding cakes, seeing if a whore can further disfigure herself with tattoos whilst avoiding Hep C, or finding out if a ninja really could beat up a Spartan.

THE CRIME: Family dissolution amid sponsor-fueled gelt set to the compliant roars of Americans everywhere resulting in ratings even higher than the cut of Megan Fox's short shorts (Megan won herself a space on the docket later on, so here’s me bringing the room together).

Over time Jon & Kate... devolved into MTV/VH-1 class idiocy, a marital train wreck dragging rampant, bloated product push in its wake (you could throw away your TV guide and use the "Special Guests" to figure out the entire TLC programming schedule) while the supposed glue of the show - a working relationship even under the most difficult of circumstances, went the way of the dodo. I suppose I should be grateful there were no drunken testimonials, but in the end, it amounts to the same thing- abject misery on view at the local coliseum.

Opening Statements: Bringing judgment to bear on reality "celebrities"... even on an entertainment site... It’s winning an argument on the internet... Beating the Germans by burning down your homes and crops... Getting your inept, doltish President elected due to your intractable adherence to a political party rather than any form of merit or common sense- TWICE... Negotiating a delightfully acceptable rate from a prostitute: Even when you win... you still get crabs.

I feel the Abyss staring back... no... sitting on my lap and grazing my nipples with its uncut fingernails whilst nursing a warm Pabst Blue Ribbon. It's Reality Television: No one gets out alive. To watch it, is to become trashy. To comment on it, is to dive into the dumpster populated by all ten million assholes watching this pathetic tableau with bated breath. "All Contempt turns on the contemptuous, as it must." (Stephen Donaldson).

Yet here I am. As a drooling misanthrope I adore supping on the anguish of others, and as I had taken an immediate dislike to Kate (easily as shrill and invasive as any of their screeching brood, prompting me to alert my spouse that if she ever presented that type of personality, we would be going for a walk in the woods... and I would emerge alone), I could not help but derive some satisfaction at watching her reap the rewards of her shrewishness. But we have a bigger problem here- 8 kids who never asked for all this horrific scrutiny and bullshit.

THE EVIDENCE: Is Jon a hapless wad of petulant insecurity and manchild angst who would rather ride *sigh* motorcycles as his genital proxy or cradle retards down ski slopes as a face-saving gesture during a vacation on his wife's birthday between swigs of Jager with his off-camera college buddies rather than submit to his partner's crippling self-righteousness while managing a veritable zoo of snotnoses as a stay-at-home-dad?

Is Kate a weiner-gnashing harridan with a hairdo reminiscent of the spinning blade trap the penitent man must avoid in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade who eagerly shills TLC programming in return for stretch-mark erasure and custom cakes, her ghost-written branding relentlessly battering and boarding the Parenting section of bookstores everywhere with the bullish tenacity of a maternal Edward Teach (again, with a more frightening hairdo) depsite her once meticulously structured home life imploding?

Duck Indy!

The answer is yes to both. And congratulations, I'm an asshole for knowing the answer. I've bought in, allowed the manipulative editing to draw my conclusions for me- editing, I might add, that doesn't tell a story or disclose truth, just staples drama to drama omitting key information for no other purpose than crude emotional titilation. Even the abominable Transformers sequel has more artistic merit.

The real questions, the pertinent ones (adultery or not? living apart for two years or lying to protect your book sales as "separate income", kicked out or "on a personal vacation", etc) go unanswered, the show goes on drawing even more interest as a broken home tableau, Jon & Kate keep a roof over their kids' heads- even if only one of them will be under it at any given time and the children get more bonding time with Uncle Cameraman, Cousin Bodyguard, and Gramma Production Assistant.

CLOSING ARGUMENTS: This isn't cinema or a tv drama, or even Lindsay Lohan posting her smoke-cured, speckled tits on Twitter... "just for something to do" (or was that the Skinemax audition? I digress). Its long past "Learning" and it certainly isn't uplifting. Its now trash, plain and simple- no better than any assemblage of D-list dimwits in a jungle or models barfing their way to stardom.

Yet still, I watch. I've walked up to the window-- with a chair-- gazed smugly and contentedly at my neighbors, and I don't even have Jimmy Stewart's busted leg to justify my aggressive interest. I've put myself on a pedestal over people who pooped out all these kids and then... shock... realized they now had to provide for them- any way possible. Gross stupidity of having that many fucking kids that early in your relationship aside, if you found yourself in these straights, would you turn away all that money and help?

THE VERDICTS:
Jon & Kate- Not Guilty- oh, you two are dumb, no two ways about it- you never figured out that you have to work just as hard to communicate and respect your spouse as you do making sure the kids don't throw themselves into a thresher.

But at least you succeeded in securing financial consideration for your progeny- at the cost of everything else. Waggling a sponsor's goods in front of the camera from time to time to offset the food, clothing and ginormous mansion costs... having a microscope planted firmly over your lives... well, that was the Faustian bargain struck for this glorious exercise in cable-granted welfare, now wasn't it? I can't blame you for that. Having fertility treatments after the first batch of kids when you are in your twenties with little income? There you go. And lest anyone think I need to walk a mile or two in their shoes... I'm having triplets and I'm fucking stopping there. Until my adoption of that 18 year old Korean girl goes though. Don't worry, I'm gonna give little Chu Mi a great life.

And Kate, stop making the brats change clothes every single goddam time they enter and leave the house. They’re kids. They get dirty. Deal.

TLC/Bravo/Discovery- GUILTY- Chicken or Egg arguments aside, somebody over there is cashing the grotesquely zero-adorned paycheck this mess has generated, and by all accounts you will continue to do so, no matter how much you purport to "care". This mountain of dough will now be used in a military training fund to safeguard us against the real horror of this situation: These fucking kids. Oh, you thought I was sad for them? Nah. I'm terrified. That's eight more dysfunctional, broken beings walking this mudball- if they should hook up with that fanatical Jesus-freak family's eighteen kids, absorb the Octo-Mom's equally damaged litter, and then learn how to form a proper phalanx, we're all dead. No amount of samurais, gangsters, maori, or highlanders can deal with that. That's on you Discovery. Thanks a fucking load.

JUDGE'S STATEMENT: I, a virile tower of heterosexuality and intellectual awesomeness have snarked about some chick's hairdo. I've used the term "Hairdo". Multiple times. This is what I have come to.

--------------

THE CASE: Are my boobs obstructing my bigotry?

THE DEFENDANT: Carrie "Teats Sponsored By Hateco" Prejean

THE CRIME: Serving up helpings of intolerance from a position of influence… and hypocrisy.

THE EVIDENCE: Televised hate speech brought to you by the Miss America Pageant:

“Well I think its great that Americans are able to choose one or the other,” she said. “We live in a land where you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. And you know what, in my country, in my family, I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody out there but that’s how I was raised and that’s how I think it should be between a man and a woman. Thank you very much.”

Her remarks, despicable and ignorant as they are, have protection under the Constitution (though I’d be very careful in the future Carrie given how fast you were broomed out the competition door by nervous producers who also abided by your free speech rights, yet latched onto the first opportunity provided to usher you out the fire exit).

The Kourt’s attention was drawn to some of Miss Prejean’s acts that would sit with her bible belt constituency about as well as Mexican sits in the belly of a spastic colon sufferer.

Nope, I’m not talking about this youthful indiscretion:

This was a 16-year old’s laughable (ok, maybe not too laughable) attempt to get into Victoria Secret. It’s not porn, it’s not excessive; add a price tag and color choices at the bottom of the pic for the underwear and you have your summer catalog. So let’s give her a pass- after all, there’s no more objectifying going on here than say… you’re average Miss America swimsuit show.

Ah, but these:


I’m all for some good ol’ fashioned nudity (I’ve never had so much fun collecting evidence for the Kourt). But in the context of this bitch taking the moral high-horse… once the nipple makes a public appearance in one’s twenties, any arguments of “I wuz young and stuped” get thrown out the window along with your push-up bra.

She’s still young and stupid at the taking of these photos (age 20, a year before the pageant), but it’s a different kind of stupid; this is decisive, informed, adult stupidity. The kind of stupid that opportunistically shakes her jumblies for the highest bidder while advocating denying marital rights to homosexuals that wish to enjoy full equality with their fellow married Americans, 60% of whom didn’t make the best case for the institution of marriage given their subsequent divorces (Carrie’s parents, it should be noted, are among these lost souls, who while unhappy, at least have the freedom to fuck up again and again with the opposite sex racking up as many legal bills as they do husbands and wives).

THE VERDICT: I’ll say it slowly for Carrie: GILL- TEE.

THE SENTENCE: COMMUTED to living your miserable life as a quickly fading asshole with a nice if somewhat hardened rack.

Fortunately, as a Miss America cuntestant, your words never had much of a chance to make or break the issue. You are not the next Ann Coulter. You are a self-absorbed, clueless slattern. Your assholic behavior further undermines your ignorant, arguments with every passing day. Those that disagree with you are intelligent, tolerant people hardly at risk of being swayed by your monosyllabic cue card rhetoric.

Those who buy into your brand of bullshit already held those beliefs long before you sashayed into the political arena and are on the losing end of this battle, impotent in the face of oncoming change- we might not have a United Federation of Planets, Monorails didn't make it, but at some point, homosexuals will be afforded their rights despite your dysfunctional world-view- a gift from your divorced parents who couldn't even be bothered to teach you irony, you salienated meat puppet.

Enjoy the 15 minutes- its the last time anyone's going to give two shits about your opinion unless its bullet pointed on a list of your turn-offs/turn on's punctuated by a staple in your navel when its time to pay the bills and CNN isn't offering guest spots anymore.

Don’t worry. Vaginal life support systems like yourself have a way of landing on their feet, swept up by former frat boys cum bankers or lawyers with void personality names like “Hoyt” resembling Greg Neidermeyer from Animal House in the market for a plastic-teated bobble head to show off at company parties and high school reunions. You won't be treasured for your values or your insight, but you'll accept what's put in your mouth, squeeze out little Hoyts-in-training, and overlook the mistresses for long enough to hammer out a good divorce settlement to keep the vicious cycle going... In full karmic view of your happily married gay neighbors living a life of contentment, honesty, and genuine affection. Now fuck off you useless slag humping post.

----------------

Judge Dynamite: Now, Judge Slyderoff will present the final case of this docket.

Judge Slydorff: Thank you Judge Dynamite, I will now complete with the following controversial case.

THe CASE: HIStory, for better and for worse.

THE DEFENDANT: The Late Michael Jackson

THE CHARGE: Leaving behind a legacy that includes creating some of the best pop music ever made, being an unconfirmed pedophile, and popping into the spotlight with some of the mos bizarre behavior ever.

THE EVIDENCE:


On June 25th, Michael Jackson was found unresponsive in his bed at a rented mansion in Los Angeles, California. He was then rushed to the nearby UCLA Medical Center where he was declared dead an hour later. Over the course of a full week, his passing has developed a shitstorm of praise, controversy, condemnation and all kinds of morbid curiosity for this pop icon.

Let’s do some history: Michael was the man (or should I say the kid) of the spotlight the minute he catapulted into fame with his brothers in the Jackson 5. Afterwards, he and his brothers left Motown records, as well as leaving a string of mediocre solo albums that only generated 3 major hits (including the #1 “Ben”). He teamed up with producer Quincy Jones and released the groundbreaking 1979 record Off The Wall, which immediately was hailed by critics and audiences everywhere. The album also introduced Michael the entertainer, as he proved to be a force to be reckoned with in the stage with his eye-popping dance moves, larger-than-life stage presence and impressive voice.

Staying on with Jones in 1982, he then proceeded to create the perfect pop album in Thriller, which demolished the opposition, selling 38 million copies in the US and more than 108 million worldwide as of this day and netting 7 Grammy awards. Jackson also was highly influential in the MTV Music Video revolution as he exploited with perfection the possibilities that a music video could have in order to promote a single; that and the fact that he was black, it meant that it also broke down numerous racial barriers.

But then, during the mid to late 80s, rumors started swirling about Jacksons off-beat behavior, first with the issues regarding his ever-paling skin, which Jackson later said that it was due to illnesses vitiligo and lupus. But it didn’t stop there; Jackson then bought a pet chimp named Bubbles, which made journalists scratch their heads, he began undertaking plastic surgery all over his face, and was rumoured to sleep in a hyperbaric chamber in order to slow his age process. Hell, he even offered $1 million for the Elephant Man John Merrick’s bones. Although Jackson denied these rumours, later on it was revealed that Wacko Jacko’s publicists came up with most of this shit for propaganda purposes. He also pissed one-time friend Paul McCartney when he bought the complete Beatles catalog for himself.

Rumors took a backseat with 1987’s Bad, which topped the charts and spun off five #1 hits, but yet despite this success, it didn’t match the success that Thriller had enjoyed. Jackson went on a record breaking tour, published an autobiography, and then released the movie Moonwalker, which was a rather odd pastiche of music videos, and a mini-fantasia live action skit which included Joe Pecsi. He also proceeded with the building of his Neverland Ranch, complete with an amusement park and ferris wheel, all for himself.

The early 90s were a “quiet” time for Jackson as he accepted a ton of awards for his past work, save for that one time where he demanded Elizabeth Taylor to introduce him as the “King of Pop”. In 1991, he released Dangerous, another #1 multi-platinum album. That release however, marked the beginning of a decline for Jackson as the album was yet another disappointment compared to Thriller and even Bad; worst of all, Dangerous was infamously bumped off the top of the charts by Nirvana’s revolutionary album Nevermind, which signaled a change in musical trends to which Michael would fall prey to later on. Then in 1993, he made a much publicized interview with Oprah Winfrey where he finally spoke openly about his skin illness, his neglected childhood, father beatings, and all kinds of shit, including hosting parties for children.

A year later, the shit really hit the fan when he was sued by a child and his father after the kid alleged that he had been sexually assaulted by Mr. Jackson. Michael denied the incident, eventhough sister La Toya accused him of being a pedophile (she later retracted). After a police raid at the ranch, and cleaning himself up from prescription drugs (which he started to take once the case was known), Michael settled out of court with the kid and his dad for $22 million.

After that, it has been going steadily downhill from Jackson, as sales for his new album HIStory, were even lower from what he had achieved with his previous 3 releases (yet it still sold in huge numbers compared to any other artist). His highly publicized marriage with the King of Rock’s daughter Lisa Marie Presley was nothing more than a highly publicized decoy to stave off more people from looking into the child molestation case, and nobody was surprised when that ended 22 months later. Later he then married his dermatologist assistant Debbie Rowe, and fathered 2 children, only to have rumors yet again circulating on whether or not he was the actual dad of these two. And lets not forget the story about how Michael was so excited about having his daugher that he cut the umbillical cord, left the baby covered in blood and and took the placenta with him in his haste!

In 2001 he released his last album of original material, Invincible, and that album signaled Jackson’s even sharper decline from the huge sales heights that he enjoyed in the 80s. Jackson was furious at Sony because he felt they ignored the album completely by not promoting it and cancelling video shoots and promotions. Jackson called Head of Sony Music Entertainment Tony Mottola the devil and a racist, but then again, the whole deal was probably due to some fine print issues regarding Jackson’s contract with Sony and his catalog. Either way, the album, despite going platinum, “tanked”.

Jackson however, did himself no favors after the infamous “Blanket Child Incident” where he took his newborn 3rd son Prince Blanket and dangled him by a balcony in front of screeching fans and television cameras. Jackson apologized for the incident but soon people began to question yet again his behavior. The final coup de grace came however in the form of the 2003 documentary Living with Michael Jackson, in which he openly admitted that he went to bed with little kids, in his bedroom. Despite claims that he wasn’t dirty-minded, his credibility went out the window partially, and then completely when he was arrested for yet another Child Sexual Molestation case, this time, involving one of the kids featured in that film. The case pushed till 2005, when he was acquitted of all charges. Yet despite this, several fans turned their backs on him, and this site listed him as one of 2003’s
Boneheads of the Month


The last part of the decade he spent fighting off claims that he was going through several financial setbacks, and at one point his Neverland Ranch was nearly closed out since Michael placed that ranch as collateral in one of several business schemes. Finally, in 2008, Michael announced a comeback that sold out 50 concerts to be played in London’s Arena in the period of 2009-2010.

Sadly, those concerts were never meant to be.

With his passing, Michael Jackson leaves behind one of the most strangely controversial legacies ever. While his place in the history of music is assured, many people have had a hard time accepting him as a person of quality due to the huge onslaught of shit that was spilled over the media about his behavior, with the bad part being that most of it was simply self-inflicted. Watching CNN and several other news channels, it’s hard not to see what an impact he has created in the news media just after his passing, as every single detail of Jackson’s life has been analyzed and scrutinized. Several of his supporters have simply laid ignorance to these claims and simply want to remember him for what he did best, with his music and his otherworldy abilities as an entertainer and concert performer. But a huge number of detractors won’t let go of the accusations of pedophilia and self-imposed narcissim. Just recently, US Representative Peter King came out saying that the press coverage has just been too much, and that our society is doing nothing more than
glorifying a low-life, a child molester and a pedophile.
Defenders may smack this as self-promotion since after all, Mr King has said he wants to run for president, but then again, several people have this same mentality, and while supporters may argue that Michael was innocent, detractors will immediately say that yes, he was acquitted, but so was OJ Simpson, and everyone knows that OJ was guilty as fuck. And hell, as if it weren’t enough, even Michael Jackson’s old buddy Quincy Jones has spoken in true “Jackson weird” fashion about the fact that he doesn’t believe in the whole “vitiligo disease thing” and that Jackson simply did not like being black, and that the proof was in his kids.

Good lord! The guy is getting buried tomorrow and still this shit continues? But that has always been the case for Michael Jackson, and a number of famous celebrities. They’re surrounded by myths and stories and rumours that just simply won’t go away, and it makes it harder for us to judge what he has left behind in our memories.

THE VERDICT: The Jury was unable to reach a verdict. Just too much shit, one side praising him for his musical prowess and another side condemning his dumbass behavior. Kourt declares a Mistrial. In the meantime, our thoughts and prayers are with the Jackson family, because despite all the shit, it is still tough to lose a loved one. May he rest in peace… or at least, we hope they let him.

We the Judges of the Kourt appreciate your time, and it's a pleasure to be back with you folk to once again carry the Baton.

Kourt is finally adjourned after one helluva long day of justice.


link directly to this feature at http://www.efilmcritic.com/feature.php?feature=2792
originally posted: 07/07/09 15:34:47
last updated: 01/23/10 04:44:22
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