Celebritydom is fucked up. You spend all of your life yearning to be noticed and admired, only to be thrust into the spotlight with nary a gym sock to cover your knackers and a baying crowd of paparazzi waiting to photograph the moment your member goes limp and your covering falls off. No wonder some people get messed up by the experience.
But of all the sad tales of stardom, there is little more depressing than the tale of the Jackson family. A nice, innocent family from Indiana, they suddenly got all Lord of the Flies as soon as the Hollywood spotlight was shone on them. When Wikipedia – which is known for its dry, impartisan style – says that “Members of the Jackson family have been the subject of heavily publicized controversies and legal imbroglios, most notably allegations of child abuse against Michael in 1993, his criminal trial in 2005, and Janet’s controversial Super Bowl halftime performance in 2004“, you know that your family is a little messed up.
So instead of leaving them alone, after the death of their most talented person, we’re going to ogle them a little more, and hope that a little more clothing slips, showing the gangrenous, oozing flesh of fuckedupdom.
5. Who the fuck is looking after the children?
There are arguments to be made it certainly wasn’t Michael when he was alive. But now his three children, Prince, 15, Paris, 14 and Blanket (yes, Blanket),10, are without their dad and need looking after to make sure they don’t fall into the Jackson family curse of becoming inhuman. Katherine Jackson currently has control of the kids, but bear in mind that she wandered off last month to a luxury spa without telling anyone, resutling in a massive manhunt. Like we said – batshit insane.
4. Why the fuck would you name your children Prince and Blanket?
Stupid celebrity children names are now ten a penny, but 15 years ago when Prince Jackson moonwalked his way out of his mother’s vagina, there weren’t as many Shilohs, Apples and Armanis about. Blanket takes the biscuit (which coincidentally would be a great celebrity offspring name) for stupid names though. It’s like naming your newborn “Table”.
3. Why the fuck would you dangle your baby over a balcony?
I’m not great with heights. I’m also not great with babies. I’m aware that I’m carrying something akin to the world’s most expensive antique vase, but can’t superglue it together again if I drop it. So basically, even at a normal altitude I’m not keen on carrying small children.
Michael Jackson, seemingly, had no such problem. He decided to dangle Prince over the balcony of a German hotel in 2002. Now, I’m aware that I’m abnormal in many ways (not least because I write for HecklerSpray), but the outrage and general reaction of “WTF Michael?” that resulted from this act demonstrated that for once I was in the right.
2. What the fuck is up with shouting at your niece?
See that picture above? That’s taken at the public memorial ceremony for Michael Jackson (which we think is fucked up enough, but there’s not enough space here to go into that). It looks like it’s a touching aunt looking after her niece.
Except it’s not. As we’ve since learnt, the undertone to this picture was actually that Janet and Paris Jackson hate each other. Because in late July, video footage emerged of Janet taking a couple of swipes at Paris because she had the audacity to text people on her phone (which as you know is totally not allowed – especially amongst teenagers). Then Paris tweeted screengrabs of her asking to see her grandmother, and Janet’s alleged replies which attempted to block contact.
1. And why the fuck would you play all this out in public?
The absolute worst thing about all of this is the advent of modern technology means that a seriously fucked up family can’t just live out their dramas in private. Because they have this histrionic need to expose themselves to everyone and to play out every little argument in public, it means that they’re never going to get fixed. You would think – given all the allegations against Michael Jackson in the past, and the history of problems that this family has had – that someone would tell them Twitter is a bad idea. But no. They still come back, like a sweating crack addict, wanting their next fix of online dopamine. And it’s sad.
If you’re reading this and want to be a celebrity, then first of all get your head sorted. And secondly, read through this again and see if you really want this kind of life. Honestly.