Never, never, Neverland

The other night, I watched the Michael Jackson “documentary.” It was probably the most disturbing thing I’ve seen on television to date. At times, I squirmed in my seat and flipped channels, and I finally just turned it off.

Michael Jackson is a profoundly disturbed human being. He admits he doesn’t want to grow up, and frankly, he can literally afford not to. He can’t just do whatever he wants, however, but we let him.

One thing that cannot be avoided when discussing Michael Jackson is the charges of pedophilia. Jackson always reacts strongly to any allegations of improper conduct with a child. He doesn’t understand how the public could possibly come to the conclusion that he’s a child molester.

The answer is very simple: because he acts like one. He takes no steps to view his behavior from the context of another person. Instead, he denies all the charges, as he holds the hands of a cancer stricken boy; not convincing. He lives in a dream land where denying the charges will simply make them go away.

After this “documentary,” it is difficult to say how things will be for the King of Pop. He hasn’t done anything tremendous in years, at least musically. If you watched the documentary, you saw Jackson endlessly watching himself or listening to his music. His face covered all the walls. It was downright weird.

And how about the “Giving Tree?” I wasn’t ever sure it was a real tree. Jackson climbed it nimbly (because he had little steps put on it), and told us what a great spot it was.

The worst part was the discussion about sex, which, if I remember correctly, took place right after Jackson cried about his dad beating him. I felt genuinely sorry for him at that moment, but when he switched to a story about Tatum O’Neal trying to seduce him, I nearly barfed.

Clearly, and I’m no psychologist, sex is a painful topic for this man. From a strict upbringing to bizarre encounters, I could almost believe he’s asexual. But then of course, he has little boys in his bed, and I am sure he’s had sex with a woman, at least twice.

Wouldn’t it be totally weird to have Michael Jackson for a dad? What would he do when you wanted to grow up? Would his daughter bring her boyfriends home? Would he let his son date girls? Would you have to wear a mask to prom?

It would be nice never to grow up. And Michael Jackson has made his own weird approximation of childhood. When I was a child, there were rules I had to follow, which included, but were not limited to, no plastic surgery and no spending the night with grown men.

Real children climb trees without the aid of custom tree stairs. Real children have scabs and bedtimes and allowances. Jackson truly is a Peter Pan. He lives in a self-created anarchy. His lawyers and publicists buffer him from the assaults of the outside world. He did try to get have an injunction placed on the “documentary” so it wouldn’t air, but there are some things even the rich cannot purchase. Like my dad always said, never say on tape or on paper anything you don’t want other people to know.

After it aired, Jackson said that he felt betrayed and that he cried and that his feelings were hurt. After all, Julian Bashir said that Michael Jackson needs to come to terms with the fact that his glory days are over. It’s time to move on. And perhaps, that truth is what made Jackson cry.