Let the Dead Paedophile Jokes Begin

Oh, yeah. By the way, Farrah Fawcett died. Now back to our macabre Michael Jackson obsession …

I feel sorry for Farrah. I was 8-years old in 1978–and there was NOTHING hotter than Farrah. Not even Michael Jackson. The infamous poster of FF–with her perkiness poking from that red-orange disco top–was  thumb-tacked to every teenaged boy’s bedroom wall at the height of Charlie’s Angelspopularity in the mid-1970’s. Of course, since I wasn’t a teenager, my mother was having none of that. Instead, she bought my brother and I a much tamer (but still hott) Angels poster that showcased Kate Jackson, Jaclyn Smith, AND FF in slightly less-revealing (but still hott) polyester 70’s actionwear. I still have a picture of my little brother standing on my bed and kissing Farrah’s airbrushed, one-dimensional lips. FF retained her luscious good-looks into middle-age–even through hair-loss caused by the chemotherapy prescribed to fight cancer. That evil bugaboo that finally took her life Thursday.

The bloated mosquitoes that feed on the blood of pop-culture icons grew unnaturally fat late last week. Not only did FF succumb to her illness, but she had the singular bad luck (at least, according to the endless pap-sweet whine of the mosquitoes) to die on the same day as Michael Jackson, the so-called “King of Pop”.  

At 2:26 p.m. PST, on Thursday, June 25, 2009 Jackson passed into the golden Fields of Elysium…just weeks before a well-planned and expensive comeback tour was scheduled to begin in London.

And as you might expect, all other news was quickly eclipsed by Jackson’s falling star.

Since then, the tasteless jokes have been slung from one side of the Internet to the other. This process has been somewhat-tempered by political figures like Rev. Jessie Jackson, who’ve began the canonization process that will establish St. Michael as something more than pop culture royalty. But far worse than cracks about hyperbaric caskets has been the “news reporting” perpetrated by “journalists”…particularly CNN and MSNBC. Baring their vampire fangs, journalism has degraded to bloodthirsty oneupmanship. While other pop culture products (such as FF) died Thursday, they rated no more than a mere mention as the endless speculation began turning Jackson’s corpse over and over, seeking out the slightest blemish that might relate to new conspiracies or old condemnations.

It’s a sick, sad world we live in, folks. And now I can’t even flip on the radio or TV without being subjected to “Billie Jean” or “Man in the Mirror” or “Bad”. Yep. Sick, sad world.

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