Amazing!

The riftraft of LA were given a golden chance to show the world just how scummy they can be and they passed it UP!!

I am impressed. Either due to the positive influence of the late Wacko Jacko or by the martial law style presence of 5 cops on every corner, the riots that many were predicting or even hoping for, (over on GLP posters were counting on full scale implosion), did NOT happen!

Meanwhile, aside from the pompass windbags that are sharpton and shelia jackson lee, the service was lovely and impressive.

Only trouble is; the story does not yet have a true ending as the casket is not be taken back to the Disney Land of Death for dispo. In fact, no one knows where the casket and its cargo are being held but Jacko will not join Mother Earth tonight.

Rumors are online saying that the family is holding out for his brain to be returned by LA Coroner.

Does he or doesn't he have his brain? Only his mortician knows for sure!

Crazy Town Choo-choo is in sight!

Well lightening did not strike; I am among the millions who did NOT get a ticket to the Jackson quack-dackeri.

Not that it matters; turns out I could not have sold the tickets for any amount of money as LAPD all up and declared that it was against the LAW for anyone to sell the tickets or for anyone to buy them. To that extent, they are wasting even MORE of the tax payers' money for undercover cops to be mingling amongst the desperate mourners at Staples, posing as rabid, heartbroken Jackson fans who would give ANYTHING to be at the service....ANYTHING!!

Then: gotcha!

Nuts to that. Who ever has them has the right to do with them as they like! Even give them away which I did think about doing too.

How cool would that be to be able to find that one fan who came from many states or countries away, the one who has put everything in their lives on the line to be here, to walk up to them, strike up a conversation, shake their hand and walk away fast as they take in the sparkly wrist-tag and ticket that has suddenly appeared in the palm of their mitt?

I admit; there will always be a roped off pew in the church of my heart for the obsessed. To make the freakin' day of one of the mondo-Jackson fans would be a kick I could giggle about all the way to my grave.

Oh, speaking of insanity; guess who's coming to protest...that's right, Jesus's very favorite Representatives on earth, (not), the WESTBORO BAPTIST CHURCH!!!

Ah, who could ever forget their charming take off on "We are the World" retitled, "God Hates the World!"? Didn't catch that one? Hardly anyone did as their equally repugnutted lawyers pulled the thing off Youtube as fast as people could upload it. Oh, it was a gem I tell you, a pure gem!

Anyway, here is what they have to say about the late King of Pop;

"Staples Center - Michael Wacko Jacko Jackson is in hell! 1111 S. Figueroa St WBC will be there to remind you to stop worshiping the dead. We will be there to tell you to Thank God for the death of this filthy, adulterous, idolatrous, gender-confused, nationality-confused, unthankful brute beast. We will be there to remind you that God Killed Wacko Jacko. There is a God, and a Day of Judgment. For you to wallow and murmur against God for his righteous Judgments is sin and will cause YOU to join Michael in hell. Stop that! Be thankful that God has not already killed you because like that Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar realized after 7 years of being cursed as a crazy wild man because he did not give God the glory warns - God will deal with you WHERE YOU LIVE if you do not put away your sins."

And so on and so on. So remember the address; 1111 S. Figueroa Street. It is my hope that all the locals from East LA and the passengers from the Crazy Town Choo-choo will drop by to extend a warm welcome to these brothers and sisters in Christ.

Oh, Lord, I hope the local channels get this all live.

Need some money, fast?

Then join me in logging in for the lottery to get a "ticket" to the hottest show in town; the Jackson Funeral!

If chosen, I have NO intentions of going to that quackry. I instead have EVERY intention of selling off my little ol' wrist band to the HIGHEST BIDDER!!

Join in! If you're local, you too could have a chance at paying off that credit card bill in FULL for once!
http://staplescenter.com/memorial.php


Buwahhh-hhaaa-haaa!!!

The Crazy Town Choo-Choo is heading our way!

Per just about every media outlet I follow, Jacko's hot mess of a funeral is now going to be in LA set for Tuesday, July 7 at 10AM in the Staples Center.

LAPD has even started closing down streets around that famous pile of cement, (as if driving in downtown LA wasn't frustrating enough!)

You know, it was one thing when it was believed that Jacko's send off would be at the infamous Neverland Ranch in the Santa Barbara area. It was one thing to watch the considerable discomfort of the locals as they looked aghast from over the rims of their whine...er...wine glasses at the growing frenzied flocks of Jackson fans and media clogging up their local roads.

But now the Crazy Town Choo-Choo has changed tracks and is chugging its way into downtown LA where we, the legal American citizen tax payer, will be expected to foot the bill for the extra cop power and man power and all the other powers that will be needed to pull off this fuckery of a funeral.

One of the chattering bubble heads on KTLA was pontificating on how the money is already there, already budgeted for emergency use of LAPD and the county sheriff's resources. Fine and dandy only, emergency money should be used for an EMERGENCY like a 8 point and above EQ or a full scale riot which by the way we are likely to see once the state starts issuing IOU's to the locals on welfare.

It should not be used for the protection of spoiled celebs that will show up crying their crocodile tears over Michael Jackson.

Protection will be needed and should be fronted for the businesses that have the misfortune to be around the Staples Center. No, not from the Jackson fans; they'll be too busy tearing at their clothes and pouring ashes over their heads in grief. The Jackson fans, while somewhat odd, are for the most part, very respectful of others and as polite as their idol was said to be.

You see, the Crazy Town Choo-Choo will be pulling into a station that borders a REAL crazy town, a loco place known as East LA. Populated with males sporting shaved heads and numerous tattoos featuring the number 13, the locals are sure to turn up if only for a chance to have another go 'round with LAPD. If they can set a few fires, break some windows, rock some cars and tip over KFI's news van, so much the better!

Perhaps the family should just opt for a tasteful yet original service that's just as "unique as YOU are!" that Forest Lawn, aka the Disney Land of Death, is famous for.

(Check out the movie, "The Loved One")

On second thought, a mob scene that involves law enforcement , riled up fans and frothing at the mouth media types is the sort of unique service that pretty much sums up Jackson's life in later years.

I, an LA taxpayer, just don't want to pay for it.

So Long, Mrs. Slocombe

NOOOO!!! Oh, dear God, no, not my Mrs. Slocombe, not my role model, (beyond Tyler Perry's Madea), of how I should behave in my old age! Oh, this is too bad!

Forget Wacko Jacko, you wanna talk icons? Mrs. Slocombe is the Ba-ha-la of pop culture icons.
She of the wild wigs of the pussy that was forever going straight up the wall.

When I heard the news of Karl Malden's death earlier, I had wondered which older player would join him in the set of three that would be quick to follow. I never expected it would be Mollie.

God Speed and thank you, Mollie Sugden. Thank you for your talent and for having given birth to Mrs. Slocombe!

I'm looking at the man in the casket...

It's official: there will be a pubic viewing of Jackson's body at Neverland Ranch this coming Friday. Thousands of highly excitable, emotionally charged people will be descending upon the quiet Santa Barbara area countryside where they will likely scream, cry, kick and punch in order to claim a stake of ground to camp out on for "Camp Jackson".


Of course, that's just the media.


There's no telling what the fans will be like although given some of the wack-a-bee behavior demonstrated during the 2005 trail and acquittal, clearly they can out-do, out-cry and just plain out-weird any of the King of Rock and Roll's fans any day of the week.


I would love to be there with a camera and flim crew just to document the insanity that is sure to break out and make a film of it entitled "Mondo Jackson" ala the famous freak show of a film called "Mondo Elvis".


Never seen it? Oh, I recommend it highly. You can find it on Youtube. In fact, I would recommend any resident of the Neverland Ranch area to check out the film just to get a feeling of the emotional depth charge they might encounter during the turbo meltdown of Jackson's viewing and funeral.


I would assume that this public viewing will entail an open casket. This makes me wonder; what kind? A full couch? A bronze? A bronze full couch?







You realize of course that whatever model the family opts to go with, the sales of that model and any look-a-likes of it will blast thru the roof. Jackson's services may well influence future funeral services for a long time to come. We saw this after President Reagan's service, we saw this after Princess Diana's service. There is nothing like a good over the top celebrity send off to get people off their "immediate burial" and "direct cremation" tendencies. People watch the wall to wall coverage and they are touched by what they see.



Speaking of touching...I would venture to guess that the mortician that is working on Michael will be issuing a plea to the family to NOT touch Jackson's face. That nose...that nose that didn't look any too stable in life I would imagine is even more not stable in death especially after an extended stay in the cooler following a full post autopsy.

Remember, I'm just guessing here. I would give my eye teeth to be in on the procedure if only to see how one should handle an emaciated case that has undergone countless plastic surgeries.



I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the mortician has to rebuild the nose from mortuary wax. If that's the case, the family could have a say in which Michael Jackson nose they would like to see on their loved one. The "Thriller" model? The "Off the Wall" era nostrils? It's their call.

Noses are easy by the way. Seriously, I loved doing noses; got a 5 out of 5 on my noses in Mort school. My lips were fair, my ears resembled cauliflower but my noses were just spot on. Could have happily cranked out noses all day.

I remember that I used to joke that Jackson's booking photo from the last trial should be in embalming text books as an example:

"Your case should NOT look like this when you are through!"

Given the additional abuse the man put himself thru in the last few years, the mortician working on Jackson tonight could consider themselves lucky if the decedent even looked that booking photo by the time they are through.

God Speed, nameless mortician, God Speed!

Feed the Rock Stars

On one of the local morning "news" programs today, Jacko's manager was being interviewed and made the remark that Jackson had desperately needed to gain weight before embarking on the now needless and never to happen "come-back" tour.

He said something to the effect that Jackson himself had acknowledged that in order to keep his strength on the tour, he needed to gain weight, something that Jackson was otherwise desperate to avoid.

It would seem that in a serious bid to maintain a lithe and boyish figure, Michael Jackson took only one meal a day. No one it seems told him he was fat, no one screamed at him, "Oh my God, you are such a COW, loose that fat before next week!" No, this was Jackson's own doing, his own self enforced slow starvation.

Ironic, isn't it, that the man who helped pen the words for a song to raise money for the starving in Africa in 1985 would himself be a little more than skin pulled over bones at the end.

The man on TV went on that he had encouraged a gain in weight for his client, had hoped it would happen. I should like to know just how was Team Jackson trying to go about this little project?

I would be willing to bet my own substantial weight in peanut butter cups that the chef at his rented "Norma Desmond" hacienda was of the typical LA breed. A whisper thin size zero of a person who serves spinach leaves wrapped in seaweed with one round, perfect pea on top and calls that "Fabu!"

Come on, buddy. If you all were really serious about getting your late client back into any shape other than that resembling a straw, you would have hired a cook that hailed from the Midwest, someone who could whip up dishes that would put meat on them there bones and then meat on the meat.

Someone like me!

You wanna gain weight in a hurry? I'm your girl. We can do this one of many ways. If you'd like a little finesse to your weight gain, I can whip up a platter of a beautiful milanesas.

A specialty of Argentina, milanesas are fillets of razor thin beef which has been dunked in a bath of eggs and parsley and then covered in a heaping pile of seasoned bread crumbs to which pressed garlic has been added.

One at a time, the freshly breaded fillets are fried in a pan of shallow oil, gently turned one side to the other and then carefully placed on a platter and covered. When all of the fillets have been fried, the platter is then taken to the table to join the garlic mashed potatoes whipped with half and half and real butter, and the tender green beans that have been co-mingling with chunks of bacon or better yet, pistachio ham.

A bowl of lemon wedges should be offered in which to christen the milanesa in a fine spray of tarty juice. Take the first cut and hold it in your mouth; breath deeply to take in the intense flavors of garlic, lemmon, and spices. Let the breaded meat slide back on your tongue.

Swallow. Savor. Bang the table with your hand and make "mmmmm" noises.

Repeat, over and over.

A platter of milanesas will send your taste buds to heaven and your weight just as sky high in only one sitting.

If you don't care how the pounds pack on then I would advise pure Midwest fare and none is more Midwest than the traditional Tater-tot Casserole.

Also known as "Tater-tot Hot-dish" in Minnesota, (because they can't spell "casserole"), this unholy combo of seasoned browned hamburger meat, green beans from a can and frozen tater-tots is held together by a thick glue of Cream of Mushroom soup. Slosh the whole thing together in a Pyrex baking bowl and bake at 350 degrees for about an hour or until contents are boiling and the taters are brown.

Serve with hot beaten biscuits or corn bread slathered in honey butter for maximum poundage effect. I was going to say that one could always serve this over mashed potatoes but that would be overdoing it a bit. Save the mashed potatoes for your chicken and noodles instead.

(You know, it wasn't until I met my CA reared hubby that I came to know that chicky-noodles over mashed was NOT a good thing. DH was fairly horrified upon his first offering of the dish and sat me down to go over why this should not be served together anymore.

"Come on, think about it!" he cautioned, "NOODLES over mashed POTATOES!"

I stared back blankly.

"NOODLES and POTATOES are..."

"Good?"

"NNOOOO!!"

The answer he clearly wanted was "starches" but to my church basement casseroled mind naught but good could ever come from the two mixed together.)

But I digress.

The food is only half the battle. In a case like Jackson's, presentation of the food would have also played a key role. I would have insisted that Jackson dine "en famille". No taking a tray in one's room, no phone calls, texting, no shop talk. Just Michael and his children at a small kitchen table.

Should there not have been such an item in the place, I would have shopped for one. A simple Formica topped kitchen table with metal legs and a covering of checked oil cloth on which rests a plastic napkin holder with matching salt and pepper shakers. Some of you know what I'm talking about. In fact, you can likely see it right now in your mind's eye can't you; your Mother's kitchen table.

If they wanted seconds, great! Help yourselves! The bowls are all right there. You want to stage a food fight at the end? Go ahead but you all are going to clean it up!

To follow, I would have sought out what could have best passed for a back porch in that over-priced rented pile of bricks and served up, warming and steaming from the oven, home made cherry pie ala mode.

There is nothing quite like a back porch, a summer evening and pie to bring out stories, good conversation and simple contentment. If I could have imported fire flies from the Midwest, I would have if only to make the illusion of "home" complete.

Two weeks of this and I could have delivered unto his managers a well fed and well minded Michael Jackson.

There are those of course who would say, "Oh get real! The man was an anorexic! All your mila this and tater-tot that would have been floating to the LA river within the hour!"

Likely this would have been so. But let me dream, won't you? Let me dream of what could have been had the hangers on around this lost soul ever really truly cared enough to have gotten him the help he so painfully needed.

Let me dream about what difference a few fire flies and a slice of homemade pie might have made.