Friday, June 26, 2009

When you die you don't spend money the anchor has now quoted Geraldo !

There really is no excuse nor explanation for writing a Farrah Fawcett poem when you are me. There really isn't it and my sister just told me she'll forgive me... one day. Little does she know that I would even post it in my neverending quest to challenge my cool. I glanced at what people were saying on the online aol message board whosamigic, for a second and I must remind myself not to that again. If you just read one page of these aol message boards the urge to leave the house ever again diminishes by post. You have your re: Farrah "Heaven got a new angel" deeply unoriginal crowd and they look like angels near the "Michael Jackson will rot in hell" crowd who are very much in evidence on this aol idiot board I saw this morning. All in all, hermitism as a lifestyle grows more alluring daily and therefore my quest to make enough money to live inside by working inside becomes more immediate.
My mother again said it best, " Poor Farrah. She got an hour." Then, she, not a big fan of anyone but us, said to me, " He was vulnerable, this Jackson. He was vulnerable right?" I replied with only instinct level thought, " No, more pathos than vulnerability." and my sweet mother said, " You are so smart,kid. You are right. I was trying." I said, "Well, mother we all try when they die but I think he tried to appear vulnerable more than was vulnerable." And she said, "You're right kid. I tried."

Farrah I think had some real vulnerability or whatever it is that makes some one loveable as opposed to just admirable. I didn't love her but I can see that others cold. I think Iran is also vulnerable but I don't know if I love it as it is a country. Love is wierd and my theories on it are too numerous to recount.

Meanwhile I'm feeling this grand Iranian Revolution losing steam under the weight of all this.... famous person death. If Maddonna goes now then that revolution is SUNK.

And, that is why I am blogging to goad them on as I sit here blogging, to goad them to risk life and limb for something larger than themselves. I will keep blogging and posting my farrah feelings if they are willing to get shot and America is willing to mourn its.... famous people. According to the news anchor," A crush of fans is gathering by Jackson's estate." Ouch. So wretched. And, what makes it even more hideos is that those are the same people and same nasty azz press that were at Farrah'ss estate for that one lone hour yesterday. It's a nasty azz world!

It strikes me that the lamest job(though it's not known for it's lameness) is being a journalist today. All ready for something big and running and in the haste slipping right between the estates of farrah and Michael and then running again but this time not slipping but still... and then walking very swiftly with your big microphone and hoping you get to the coroner before the crush around the coroner is unmanageable.

And you just know that the coroner is primping today and that many newspeople are very relieved that they won't have to say( much less contemplate) anal cancer. I don't blame them. And the camera pans to the dissapointed journalist overpowered by the more ambitious journalist and giving the stink eye to the paparazzi as his skulks off with his large mic.

Now these journalists are comparing Jackson to Mozart and Farrah to no one and they are delighted by his "fixation" on Peter Pan and his "tenderness" for young boys, and the moronic Geraldo is saying the moronic things that Geraldo says and he's now droning about Debbie Rowe and I am reminded that Jackson named his kid "Blanket "and now Geraldo has said this regarding Jackson apparent debt, " He'll stop spending money now... that he's dead."

And, they are still awaiting results from the coroners office and I am feeling good about my early death premonition and my debt and the whole day is still ahead!!!

Thinking of lame jokes as I tend to do especially now that I've been blackballed-

Farrah Micheal jackson jokes coursing through me non stop but too nasty to tell at a time like this. Oh, no I didn't!
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