Dear Dirty America


Some Michael Jackson Fans Need Lives

November 08
02:50 2011
National Correspondent
Los Angeles, CaliforniaOr lovers. Or jobs. But there are no jobs left in America, so forget about that. Dr Conrad Murray, a name that will forever ring in infamy, a name, when pronounced correctly, will be said with hate and a spray of acidic spittle. Conrad Murray. He killed our beloved MJ.

Unless that secret group called the Illuminati killed him, and they only made it appear like Murray did the deed. Or, the insidious clan of elite globalists (as they’re sometimes called in back alleys and hole-in-the-wall shops that specialize in making Turkish coffee) brainwashed Murray, or somehow convinced him it was OK to give lethal doses of drugs to Michael Jackson. Murray’s the “fall guy” La Toya said. Her words were chilling. If the Jacksons believe in conspiracies, I do too.

Conspiracy theories aren’t awful things to believe in, and I can think of much worse, such as that small group of Angelenos who swear up and down that Ron Paul is the Antichrist, and that other fringe group of people scattered throughout Southern California who insist they see Ronald Reagan appear on a gleaming white horse. The most interesting sighting yet happened in July, in Dana Point, on the beach. I happened to be there, and it was a sight to behold.

Back to Conrad Murray, and Michael Jackson. I know many fans who wish Jesus was still around just so they could grab his robe and plead to have MJ resurrected for one last tour. I tell them, it ain’t going to happen, not yet, Armageddon is still at least 9 months away. At least.

Here is a paragraph about one Michael Jackson lover who needs to get a life, or a good blow job, or a dirt cheap massage in Koreatown, Los Angeles:

On the ground, John Smith, 60, followed the trial for 33 days outside. “I never thought he would go on to be this huge,” he said. “Mike was loved for his human rights, charity and music. Conrad Murray is going to be found guilty.”

In the 16th and 17th century, John Smith was the Admiral of England, and he did good work, such as explore America, establish the first permanent settlement, get knighted for his contributions to England, bang Pocahontas, for being an intrepid soldier, and then writing about his experiences in a blog called True Travels, the first blog.

In the 21st century, John Smith camps outside of the trial of a doctor accused of killing the world’s most famous popstar. Rock star. Humanitarian. Michael Jackson died, and it’s sad. Donald Rumsfeld is still alive, and so is Dick Cheney, and yet, they don’t have personal doctors injecting large quantities of potent toxins into their bloodstreams. They should. Why good humans die, and evil bastards live out long lives and write books for everybody to read baffles me and my friend Marlin, but we’ll get over it.

John Smith, the 2011-kind, should recall his past John Smiths and do something compelling, like stand outside Dick Cheney’s house and say, “I never thought so many people would be so upset that this man destroyed millions of lives around the world and fraudulently used America’s brutal armed forces and sea of taxpayer dollars to attack poor people. Dick was hated for his lack of human rights, for his refusal to end torture and secret prisons around the world. He’s going to be found guilty.”

Why am I comparing Dick Cheney to Michael Jackson, and in the context of John Smiths from past and present? I don’t know anymore. I’m lost, but this is only a blog post, and thankfully blogs don’t have to be highly accurate, or even proofread. Blogs can be sloppy, in fact, I recommend they are ran in a slipshod manner, like Dear Dirty America.

You get one good post, once a month, maybe, and the rest are shit. Like a country that worries more about who killed their favorite musician than what’s going on around the world in their names, with their dollars, and yet, collectively, they refuse to acknowledge they no longer live in the greatest country on earth, but instead they inhabit a land represented by a flag so soiled and dirty that whoever hung it so high should be thrown in jail.

MJ was a great person, but he’s dead. He won’t stop being dead. His doctor screwed up, but that mess is nothing compared to a 16-20 percent real unemployment rate, a Congress that cares nothing for its people and is bought by Wall Street, and a country that is bombing, occupying, and invading multiple countries around the world. And soon Iran will be added to the list.


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