Have a look at this timeline if you need a quick refresher on the extent to which Michael Jackson has had an influence on popular culture. It’s easily forgotten, but still astounding. I’ve been teetering back and forth as to whether or not the latest round of child abuse allegations have any merit. I’m sure we’re all thinking to ourselves “If this many people have come forward over the years, there must be some truth to it, right?” It’s a tough call. But I learned a few things last night while watching Hannity and Colmes that really got me swinging over to Mike’s side a little bit. Perhaps I’ll share…

No one who’s ever accused Jackson of molestation has gone directly to the police, ever. They go to tabloids or right to Jackson himself. Ask yourself why. When the maid and bodyguard who’ve recently testified against Jackson were in his employ, they had media brokers on call at all times. That’s someone you pay to sell your story to the highest bidding tabloid. That would make sense if you had said juicy story first, but these people got jobs at Neverland, hired the brokers and then sat around waiting to see/manufacture something scandalous to share with the world. You can’t tell me that level of premeditation scores well on the credibility scale. And none of the kids have ever taken the stand – unless they’re now in their early 20’s and addicted to heroin. It’s always the parents who do all the talking and then, of course, all the subsequent spending. Mike is a mark.

Michael Jackson is a strange man. In fact, he’s a complete whackadoo. But I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt for a while longer. Corey Feldman and MacCauley Culkin both refused to testify against him when asked by the current prosecution. As a founding member of both of their fanclubs (culkfeld.com), I have to stand behind their good judgement – like some sort of sad, 31-yr-old wannabee Goonie.

If I were to ever let this blog digress into a whiny, moany whinge-fest – it’d be no different from 99.9% of the rest of them. Most blogs are fucking horrible. And it’s no accident that most blogs also involve a droll sadsack with the personality of a meadow cricket sharing their long laundry list of why they rule and the rest of humanity ‘just doesn’t get it’. Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Rhetorical questions (“Why does my boss always ask me to do something right as I’m about to leave work?!”) always seem to punctuate the mess at every given turn. And as much as I yearn to reply “because they want to wrong-hole you in the copier room after everyone else leaves”, I refrain – as that would denote interest and truthfully I wouldn’t piss on them were they on fire. So I try to keep the uninteresting, psuedo-intellectual rambling to a minimum. Better allowing me to make fun of those that do not. I then, in the process, become guilty of it myself. But I add lots of pretty pictures and people keep reading me anyway.

But someone left a band-aid in the shower at my gym today, and my aforementioned attempt at whinge-restraint has just come to a shrieking halt. You filthy bastard. You uncouth heathen fucktard. Here’s the worst part: It wasn’t swirling around in the drain as you’d expect. No – it had been placed neatly in a groove at my eye level where the tile ends and the normal wall begins. And as I stood there shaking my head in disbelief, the “guy-who-never-actually-uses-the-gym-but-works-on-the-same-floor-and-just-comes-in-to-take-craps” arrived. Usually leisurely, my remaining time toweling off and getting dressed then became about as enjoyable as shovelling out a month old, newly discovered bathtub crime scene in July.

Where am I going with this? Quite crazy.

You may remember Dr. Taz’s eloquent ranting abilities from this previous posting – but nothing could prepare me for his thoughts, emailed to me only this morning, regarding the just-announced lineup of this year’s legendary Glastonbury Festival. The quick synopsis is that legends like New Order, Elvis Costello and Echo and the Bunnymen are being demoted so that Kylie fucking Minogue can have the coveted Sunday closing time slot. But there’s no need to get my panties in a bunch when Taz, who actually has tickets, already has his drawers tied securely around his neck:

Ok, in my opinion it’s been dogsh*te for years but surely even you diehard gluttons for punsihment who like to wallow in pikey’s piss and watch overrrated bands and 60 year old has-beens in a large sodden field (withmost of Islington and Battersea’s 30-somethings going all ‘rock’) SURELY cannot stump up any more of your hard-earned on this tripe?!

Next year, move over Coldplay and White Stripes, Sat night headlining on The OK Magazine Chav Stage will be Charlotte Church giving a soapy tit-wank to Aled Jones while exclusively showcasing their duet Xmassingle in Welsh… an ‘Unplugged’ set by The Krankies and the exhumed carcass of Benny Hill will do ‘Ernie the Fastest Milkman in the West’ with a full 68 piece orchestra and laser show. Tickets will be 450 GBP plus VAT. Fantastic.

Don’t sugarcoat it.

I’ve successfully migrated the site over to a new server. The result? Faster load times and, hopefully, much faster post times. What this means to you, dear reader, is that if you’ve had trouble posting comments in the past due to slow speeds (which I’ve heard many of you have) give it another try. It should now smoke like Tom Cruise were he locked inside the RamRod.