Jul 15 2009
Michael Jack-sone
Even a homeless blog needs something about the Hermaphrodite Of Pop.
I had a friend who drove a Hollywood sightseeing bus, for Starline Tours. (The company’s owners were from Iran. We called it “Shahline.”)
Polyester-clad tourists from the Midwest, with camcorders, and cameras on leather straps around their necks, paid $36 each to peek at the homes of the rich and famous. (Later, they would line up on the sidewalk outside NBC in Burbank, waiting for a seat to that night’s Tonight Show taping.)
This was in the 80s, right after the Thriller album’s release, when you couldn’t turn around without hearing “Beat It” or “Billie Jean” on the radio.
The question most frequently asked by the polyester tourists was:
“Say, man, where do Michael Jack-sone stay?”
Back then: Encino. Out in the Valley, in a house with trees around it, so he wouldn’t have to see geeks gawking at him from the windows of a tour bus.
Now he stay in the ground. Only no one’s sure where. Neverland or Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.
Maybe he could be cut in half and buried at both.
If he does end up at FL-HH, the hope is that rules can be bent, and that he will be laid to rest in the children’s section.
