blog post number forty two.

Michael Jackson is being remembered today, in a stadium.

Yesterday this angry lesbian on my facebook made a comment about MJ saying, "If I molested little children, I'd rot in jail, which is exactly where he deserved to be". Hello! I mean, those little kids weren't going to molest themselves!? Anyway, child abuse makes you stronger. And I think lesbians belong in jail regardless of who they touch. I would have let Mr. Jackson put his bony, bleached fingers anywhere for a few million. Did he really even do it? Seriously. It's been so long I've forgotten. When people die others tend to forget the bad things they did in life. I've forgotten. Adolph Hitler, what?

Jon is taking it really hard. He bought the entire Michael Jackson catalog on iTunes and will occasionally have bouts of sadness. We've been listening to MJ music for weeks. It's actually really good. How depressing, I will never get to see him in concert. Jon said there was even a 3D portion in the concert for Thriller. Jon knows everything.

Oh, we bought a house. I haven't let myself get truly excited about it yet, considering our last experience of losing our home. It's super cute. It's the second one we bid on and it's way nicer than the first. Which reminds me of that old American proverb: "First is the worst, second is the best, third is the nerd with the hairy chest". I'm not exactly sure what the third would have been. Let's hope we don't find out.

Is it just me, or are you waiting for MJ to reappear? Like Peter Pan on cables, flying about in sequins or dangling more babies off balconies. I now understand why people think Elvis is still around. It's hard to believe that's it.

Death is annoying.

I'll bet Farrah Fawcett is so pissed she didn't hang in there for another week. Michael totally stole all her attention. She even went through the effort of making that whole documentary about how she was going to die. What a jerk.