Islam wins: Michael Jackson converts

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This one-gloved thriller star is being sued by a local prince here for going against some “contract” and not recording songs about peace or something. Not that anyone cares what he does. But sometimes I do, because I grew up obsessing with him. Then I wasn’t sure if he was white or black or if it was “forbidden” for me to practically worship because he turned into plastic. Or a woman.

He’s apparently now converting to Islam. I am still in the “not caring” category. So why is this post here?

Considering the amount of serious articles we have on the site, I thought that this satirical piece may light things up. It’s a letter from Michael Jackson addressed to the world, written about 2 years ago.

Dear everyone,

I wake up each morning with the same pain and demons that came to visit me a year and a half ago. I know that I’ll never ever recover from it or stop it from crushing me every single day. Something took away the best thing in my life without asking or warning me and it kills me like a razorblade through the chest, constantly. I won’t go into detail as to what I’m talking about, here. The media’s done enough in exposing everything there is to know about me.

As some of you may already know, I’m in Bahrain, the land of midget extremists and camel-humping bores. I’ve spent a large portion of my time here writing songs with the prince (who can kill 40 live ostriches with his bare hands) and talking to 4 year olds about hamsters. I like 4 year olds. They make my loins stir and my heart soar. I’m glad I’m finally overcoming my fears of children. When I was 39, a 5 year old crept into my bedroom and molested me, claiming that if I told my parents or the authorities, he’d get away with it on the grounds that there is “nothing wrong with a little bump and grind.” He won’t go to jail. He’ll just grow up twice as fast and end up starring in The West Wing like similar offenders do. Goes to say why you shouldn’t trust anyone. I only invited that brat to my home so I could show him the right way to iron a collar.

I’m afraid I’m legally banned from going near any playground since this whole unfortunate misunderstanding with my trousers. That story has gotten a lot of attention from the media. Speaking of the overzealous media, I don’t know why I’m surrounded with cameras all the time. I’m sure the boys and girls of Bahrain don’t want a succession of blurry photos showing me thrashing around my bedroom with a framed picture of their King.

I started wearing an abaya. Covered from head to toe. When my lawyer first suggested this idea, I said “Don’t make me laugh please, it makes my colostomy bag shift to the right, causing intense discomfort.” Little did I know he was being serious, and after I’ve given it much thought I figured this would be a fun way to disguise me. The media here is starved, and the people seem mislead. It’s a wee bit depressing watching all the sheep following the flock. But, like bell-bottoms, BBMak & Capitalism, I think it’s just a faddish phase that will disappear when the novelty has worn off.

Everyone knows I wear an abaya now, the people here are smarter than I ever gave them credit for. I went to the women’s bathroom in a mall and some girl yelled, “IT’S HIM, get your handbags out, ladies!” I ran like I never thought I could run before. Why do people assume that all celebrities are supposed to act responsibly? I am under no orders to make the world a better and safer place. Stop expecting the impossible.

Scarlett Johansson has been stealing my thunder lately, thanks to her recent ridiculously clichéd movie. I really wish that every other magazine would stop telling us how beautiful she is. She needs to be taken down a peg or two. Also, she is a horrible actress, did I mention this? It’s a mathetmatical fact and arguing against it is like debating the colour of dirt. I have seen her big budget stuff and her smaller indie films. Her acting in all of them is wooden.

I won’t be coming home, I’ve made my decision and I’d like to settle down in the Persian Gulf. I figured, if I can’t annoy the hell out of Arabs with my sulky, melancholy whining, what else CAN I do…?

Disclaimer: This piece is satirical and fictional. If you were offended in any way, there’s not much I can do about that.