MJ

I defy you to put on "You Are Not Alone", gaze out the nearest window, and not lose your shit. Or, as I chose to, blast "The Girl is Mine", roll down the car window and just grill people in the street.

Truth be told, the blogger in me wants to talk about who's going to play Jackson in the biopic thats clearly hitting the big screen (steamin willie beaman?) , the molestation haters who are now eager to speak Jacksons praises, and how physically paralyzing it is to think that Thriller was #1 on the Billboard charts for THIRTY SEVEN WEEKS!

The child in me however, is distraught beyond belief. Rewind the clock back to 1985, and you'll learn that I may as well have popped out my mom in penny loafers and a jerry curl. Until 10 years of age, if I told you I didn't sport high waters and white socks I'd be lying through my teeth.

Bbm's today consisted of "dude. you know he's gonna pull through, I mean, he made thriller...c'mon!!", and "is it gay that my eyes watered when I heard?" and, "I would F letoya jackson".

But I refuse to use phrases like "its a sad day today". Instead, I am in the process of pirating the Dangerous album, jumpstarting an MJ ipod archive that will bring tears to the eyes of many drunken choched out party goers attending the same venues as myself for weeks to come.

Michael Jackson, I'm not afraid to say it, you were my hero.