Is this the beginning of the end for Michael Jackson? I wonder how many of his friends (Uri Geller, for instance) will stand up and say that Michael is just misunderstood? I suppose he is, in a way. When he says to a boy "come on over to Neverland," the boy doesn't understand that it's just another way of saying "I want to get in your pants," so essentially, Jackson is misunderstood.
What I'm waiting for here is another O.J. scenario. Michael fleeing in a car, Elizabeth Taylor at the wheel. The slow chase down Sunset Blvd. The cameras zooming in on Michael in the backseat, waving a gun around. No, wait. That's a baby he's waving around! The world is riveted as CNN stops all of its programming to watch Michael and Liz trying to make a great escape. We hold our collective breath. Will he get away with it? Will he blow his own brains out? Will he drop his baby out of the car window? Or will he fool us all and disguise himself as a black man, so he is basically unrecognizable?
And then Liz drives over the border, into Mexico, where she drops Michael off at the Titty Twister. He spends the rest of his days drinking with Cheech Marin and looking for "the real sodomizers." He vows not to rest until they are found. Church groups band together to make bonfires out of Michael Jackson records and, years from then, he will be but a faded memory, a legend of another time, a man who only comes to mind when an oldies station plays Weird Al's cover of Beat It.
It's the end of Jackson as we know him. And I feel fine.