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Reply #240 posted 11/24/15 12:41pm

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

QueenofPurplePalace said:

So I was informed by my book and a few friends that one of my favorite songs by Michael 2000 Watts is about orgasms?! Why didn't anyone tell me?

[Edited 11/24/15 12:46pm]
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Reply #241 posted 11/24/15 12:45pm

Beautifulstarr
123

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QueenofPurplePalace said:

So I was informed by my book and a few friends that one of my favorite songs by Michael 2000 Watts is about orgasms?! Why didn't anyone tell me?


His voice was very deep on that track. I had folks tell me that's his true speaking voice. Wish I was close enough on him to find out, lol.
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Reply #242 posted 11/24/15 1:29pm

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

mjscarousal said:



QueenofPurplePalace said:


mjscarousal said:


Its funny you say that because I stan for them too! Especially Naomi and Stephanie, lucky heffas razz lol



YAAAAAS i stan for them but I was in my feelings watching in the closet when Mike was all up on my woman....I was in a huff the whole day lol

lol lol lol I was in a huff when that woman was all up on MY man...



Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz
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Reply #243 posted 11/24/15 3:08pm

QueenofPurpleP
alace

avatar

Beautifulstarr123 said:

mjscarousal said:



QueenofPurplePalace said:


mjscarousal said:


Its funny you say that because I stan for them too! Especially Naomi and Stephanie, lucky heffas razz lol



YAAAAAS i stan for them but I was in my feelings watching in the closet when Mike was all up on my woman....I was in a huff the whole day lol

lol lol lol I was in a huff when that woman was all up on MY man...



Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz


If he did I'd kick his ass lmao he already tried my patience with Iman and the girl from BOTDF and scooped up Diamond from DiamondNPearl. He can't have Naomi dammit
I Just Came To Dance and Shade for Yall
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Reply #244 posted 11/25/15 10:26pm

mjscarousal

Beautifulstarr123 said:

mjscarousal said:

lol lol lol I was in a huff when that woman was all up on MY man...

Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz

razz She got a chance to feel and caress his body and behind....its not fair sad lol

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Reply #245 posted 11/25/15 10:27pm

mjscarousal

QueenofPurplePalace said:

Beautifulstarr123 said:
Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz
If he did I'd kick his ass lmao he already tried my patience with Iman and the girl from BOTDF and scooped up Diamond from DiamondNPearl. He can't have Naomi dammit

lol lol lol I think Naomi is the luckiest one out the bunch though.

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Reply #246 posted 11/25/15 11:24pm

Free2BMe

mjscarousal said:



QueenofPurplePalace said:


Beautifulstarr123 said:
Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz

If he did I'd kick his ass lmao he already tried my patience with Iman and the girl from BOTDF and scooped up Diamond from DiamondNPearl. He can't have Naomi dammit

lol lol lol I think Naomi is the luckiest one out the bunch though.



Very lucky!! biggrin
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Reply #247 posted 11/29/15 7:10pm

purplethunder3
121

avatar

NOVEMBER 25, 2015

The Two Lives of Michael Jackson

BY CARVELL WALLACE

Do me a favor. Go on YouTube and find the footage of Michael Jackson singing “Who’s Lovin’ You” on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” He is eleven years old. It is one of his first times on national television. In the intro, he looks and sounds like . . . well, like an eleven-year-old with a decent ability to ham it up. He does a jokey spoken preamble about how kids can understand the blues, too, because he once fell in love with a girl in the sandbox, toasted their love during “milk break,” and broke up during finger painting. Halfway through, he forgets his lines and freezes, looking back at his older brothers for help. It’s an alarmingly vulnerable moment, one only possible in the era of live television. You feel bad for him. It suddenly doesn’t seem right that a kid should be made to perform live in front of an entire country. Yet he somehow finds his way back and stumbles through.

.

When the music starts, we see something else entirely. The first note he sings is as confident, sure, and purposeful as any adult could ever be. He transforms from nervous child at a talent show into timeless embodiment of longing. Not only does he sing exactly on key but he appears to sing from the very bottom of his heart. He stares into the camera, shakes his head, and blinks back tears in perfect imitation of a sixties soul man. And it feels, for a moment, as though there are two different beings here. One is a child—a smart kid, to be sure, and cute, but not more special than any other child. He is subject to the same laws of life—pain, age, confusion, fear—as we all are. The other being seems to be a spirit of sorts, one who knows only the truest expression of human feeling. And this spirit appears to have randomly inhabited the body of this particular mortal kid. In so doing, it has sentenced him to a lifetime of indescribable enchantment and consummate suffering.

.

The details of that life are well covered in Steve Knopper’s new book, “MJ: The Genius of Michael Jackson.” Knopper, a contributing editor atRolling Stone, takes a journalist’s approach to the story, chronicling M. J.’s journey from a working-class family, in Gary, Indiana, to unequalled fame and riches and, finally, to a deformed, reclusive, and obsessive middle age, hemmed in by leeches and ne’er-do-wells. In its broad outlines, the story doesn’t deviate from the standard rock-biopic script: man with a gift becomes man with a burden. But, unlike the rags-to-riches tales of Hollywood, Jackson never finds redemption. There is no long walk down the hallway to adoring fans chanting his name at a final show. Instead, he sinks lower and lower, until death finally finds him, millions of dollars in debt, battling a crippling addiction to painkillers, attended to by a shady doctor who administered the insane doses of anesthesia that Jackson came to rely on in order to sleep.

.

The banality of his demise is striking. All that really happened is that he was great, and those around him became fixated on how much money he could make. Having never learned how to be a responsible adult, he made terrible choices about how to handle his otherworldly power. The bigger he got, the more people he cut out of his life, until about 1990, when, in Knopper’s telling,everyone who genuinely cared for the young, pre-“Thriller” Jackson had been forcefully denied access to his life. “Michael began to run perilously low on people who could tell him what not to do,” Knopper writes.

.

Perhaps this set of circumstances is what allowed some of Jackson’s more dubious behaviors to continue unchecked. Everyone knows about his pathological relationship with plastic surgery, which turned him from classic man to plastic man right before our eyes. It is estimated that he underwent dozens of procedures, many of which were botched or of shoddy quality. He lightened his skin and, over the years, his public explanations for doing so varied. He claimed to suffer from vitiligo, which causes skin to lose its pigment in patches—a condition his autopsy confirmed, though that explanation had always been met with skepticism from the black community. (Vitiligo can arise spontaneously or be inherited; it can also be triggered by bleaching.) Whether or not the disease was behind the dramatic change in his skin color, Jackson surely was motivated, at least in part, by a belief common to Americans: that light skin, thin lips, small noses, and straight hair represent the most perfect example of beauty.

.

This is the complexity of Jackson’s relationship with blackness. He had most physical evidence of it sliced out of his body—but his music and work are filled with an abiding appreciation for the music, art, and deeply powerful soul of black folks. From the “Nigeria 70”-inspired breakdown in “ABC” to his 1991 solo album, “Dangerous,” on which he eschewed the jazz and melodic direction of his earlier work in favor of Teddy Riley’s urban R. & B. club beats, to outright pro-Africa songs, like “Liberian Girl,” Jackson’s debt to African and African-American culture was always clear. “Of course he loved being black,” Riley told Rolling Stone. “We’d be in sessions where we’d just vibe out and he’d say, ‘We are black, and we are the most talented people on the face of the Earth.’ I know this man loved his culture, he loved his race, he loved his people.” Perhaps even more surprising for the casual M. J. fan is the clear-headed speech he delivered, in 2002, to a majority-black crowd, at Al Sharpton’s National Action Network, in Harlem. “I know my race,” he said. “I just look in the mirror—I know I’m black.” The crowd erupted.

.

Your blackness is not a result of your skin but of the experiences that that skin brings to you. It is deepened when you watch Rodney King get beaten nearly to death on television by police officers, as Jackson must have, along with the rest of us, in March, 1991. It is awakened again when you start to think about how many of the black artists who enriched your employer died broke and forgotten (something Jackson spoke about in the Harlem speech). M. J.’s blackness was something that he couldn’t escape. This may be why black people continued to accept and root for him despite what, on the surface, appeared to be his rejection of us. No matter what he became, we knew the struggle and pain that made him so. We knew the mid-century racism, and the desperate, dominating father. We knew the whoopings that were part discipline, part violent and selfish abuse, and part twisted grooming for a world that would do its best to deliver an even more savage psychological beatdown. We know that American racism creates such a vast array of insanity among its victims that even Michael Jackson, twisted, bizarre, and impossible to comprehend, makes perfect sense in its context.

.

But there is more about Jackson that we did not know. You can’t write about him without acknowledging that he was an accused child molester—indeed, this sometimes seems to be all that people under the age of thirty know about him. Knopper does his best to examine every piece of evidence in the public record, and concludes that it is more likely that Jackson did not commit the crimes he was accused of. But Knopper’s judgment is far from conclusive. No matter how it is read, this part of the story is sordid and sickening. One of the parents who levelled charges against Jackson demanded payment and a three-picture screenwriting deal by way of settlement. The mother of another child continued to encourage her son to stay with Jackson long after she claimed to have become suspicious.

.

Of course, if he was innocent, Jackson’s own weirdness, his complete inability to understand normal social boundaries, is largely to blame for the public shit show that ensued. In the now-infamous Martin Bashir documentary “Living with Michael Jackson,” Jackson volunteers, unprompted, that he loves sharing beds with children. “I sleep in the bed with all of them,” he says. “Then we wake up at, like, dawn, and go in the hot-air balloon. . . . It’s very right. It’s very loving. That’s what the world needs now. More love. More heart.” Bashir challenges him, asking sarcastically, “The world needs a man who’s forty-four sleeping in a bed with children?” Jackson replies, “No, you’re making it all wrong. That’s wrong, because what’s wrong with sharing a love?”

.

Who is this person? If he is a predator, then there is no way that anything else he did, no matter how moving, can be honored. But what if he is simply a person who believes completely and desperately that genuine and honest love is the only important thing there is? This is what makes us obsess over the horror of Michael Jackson. We must know whether he is an angel or beast. The concerts in front of millions, the humans reduced to tears at the mere sight of his hand, the way his voice can soften the hardest and most frightened parts of us—these things convince us that he is the former. But maybe that version of him is simply too fanciful, too naïve for us, mired as we are in the muck of our human struggle. Maybe we cannot or will not accept the existence of the kind of unblemished love he claimed to represent.

.

We have a deep and consuming desire to capture the divine and somehow align it with our human selves. Jackson was a vehicle for something divine, and so, perhaps, we find it pleasing to tether him more firmly to our world, by proving that he is exactly as shoddy and vulgar as we all are.

.

What if he had been born somewhere else, to a different family? Anywhere else. Say, a small fishing town in Mexico. There he would be, this child. Preternaturally gifted, with an ability to touch people with his voice. A way of imitating love and heartache in song. He would sing for people from an early age. They would love him and celebrate him. He might get special treatment as the one who can make mothers cry and fathers shake their heads slowly and choke back tears. But he would also remain a kid. He would run and play with other children. He would work with the rest of the family on whatever the family did. On the fishing boat with the other young men. At the family store. Maybe running a guesthouse for travellers. He would grow into a man. Maybe he would play songs on guitar. Maybe girls would love him. Maybe he would marry one. Maybe he would have trouble being faithful. Maybe he would drink too much. Maybe he would have kids of his own and teach them the songs he knew growing up. Maybe people would always be touched somewhat by the light in his eyes, but it would fade as he grew. Maybe he would grow old and a little thick around the middle from beer and age. Maybe he would teach his grandchildren to sing songs and weave fishing nets. Maybe they would only be partially interested, having discovered YouTube and Twitter, but their parents would scold the younger ones to respect their grandfather. Maybe, when he died, it would be only the old folks who remembered that he had been a beautiful singer in his younger years.

.

I wish this had happened to Michael Jackson. I wish he had been talented enough to make people happy, but nothing more. It would mean, of course, that we would never have got to have him, but he would have had himself. I have a son of my own now. He’s twelve. He recently told me that one of his earliest memories is of coming home from school to find the television on, trumpeting the news that Jackson had died. I can picture my son at that age, wide eyes like dark moons; soft, simple skin; the tiniest and most perfect hands; centuries of soul packed layers deep in his little voice. He reminded us, in fact, of a young Michael Jackson. Probably many children, in a certain light, remind people of a young Michael Jackson. My son remembers walking into the kitchen and seeing his parents, grown, weary, and old, embracing each other and crying as though they were the babies. He did not understand why.

.

Now I think I do. We were not crying for the loss of Michael Jackson... We were crying for the inevitable loss of all of our childhoods.

"Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything." --Plato

https://youtu.be/CVwv9LZMah0
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Reply #248 posted 12/01/15 2:04pm

Ego101

^^^ That was nice to read purplethunder3121 thanks.

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Reply #249 posted 12/01/15 3:19pm

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

mjscarousal said:



Beautifulstarr123 said:


mjscarousal said:


lol lol lol I was in a huff when that woman was all up on MY man...



Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz

razz She got a chance to feel and caress his body and behind....its not fair sad lol



Yeah, but he only has eyes for you batting eyes lol.
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Reply #250 posted 12/01/15 3:26pm

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

QueenofPurplePalace said:

Beautifulstarr123 said:



Don't worry, Hillary. He's never had any sexual relations with that woman razz


If he did I'd kick his ass lmao he already tried my patience with Iman and the girl from BOTDF and scooped up Diamond from DiamondNPearl. He can't have Naomi dammit


Wow lol
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Reply #251 posted 12/02/15 5:11pm

dm3857

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/w...kVMj5mZAvc[/youtube]

New footage of the Dangerous Tour in Bremen. Full show.

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Reply #252 posted 12/02/15 6:41pm

Ego101

Love Is...

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Reply #253 posted 12/03/15 8:33pm

MichaelJackson
5

purplethunder3121 said:

NOVEMBER 25, 2015

The Two Lives of Michael Jackson

BY CARVELL WALLACE

Do me a favor. Go on YouTube and find the footage of Michael Jackson singing “Who’s Lovin’ You” on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” He is eleven years old. It is one of his first times on national television. In the intro, he looks and sounds like . . . well, like an eleven-year-old with a decent ability to ham it up. He does a jokey spoken preamble about how kids can understand the blues, too, because he once fell in love with a girl in the sandbox, toasted their love during “milk break,” and broke up during finger painting. Halfway through, he forgets his lines and freezes, looking back at his older brothers for help. It’s an alarmingly vulnerable moment, one only possible in the era of live television. You feel bad for him. It suddenly doesn’t seem right that a kid should be made to perform live in front of an entire country. Yet he somehow finds his way back and stumbles through.

.

When the music starts, we see something else entirely. The first note he sings is as confident, sure, and purposeful as any adult could ever be. He transforms from nervous child at a talent show into timeless embodiment of longing. Not only does he sing exactly on key but he appears to sing from the very bottom of his heart. He stares into the camera, shakes his head, and blinks back tears in perfect imitation of a sixties soul man. And it feels, for a moment, as though there are two different beings here. One is a child—a smart kid, to be sure, and cute, but not more special than any other child. He is subject to the same laws of life—pain, age, confusion, fear—as we all are. The other being seems to be a spirit of sorts, one who knows only the truest expression of human feeling. And this spirit appears to have randomly inhabited the body of this particular mortal kid. In so doing, it has sentenced him to a lifetime of indescribable enchantment and consummate suffering.

.

The details of that life are well covered in Steve Knopper’s new book, “MJ: The Genius of Michael Jackson.” Knopper, a contributing editor atRolling Stone, takes a journalist’s approach to the story, chronicling M. J.’s journey from a working-class family, in Gary, Indiana, to unequalled fame and riches and, finally, to a deformed, reclusive, and obsessive middle age, hemmed in by leeches and ne’er-do-wells. In its broad outlines, the story doesn’t deviate from the standard rock-biopic script: man with a gift becomes man with a burden. But, unlike the rags-to-riches tales of Hollywood, Jackson never finds redemption. There is no long walk down the hallway to adoring fans chanting his name at a final show. Instead, he sinks lower and lower, until death finally finds him, millions of dollars in debt, battling a crippling addiction to painkillers, attended to by a shady doctor who administered the insane doses of anesthesia that Jackson came to rely on in order to sleep.

.

The banality of his demise is striking. All that really happened is that he was great, and those around him became fixated on how much money he could make. Having never learned how to be a responsible adult, he made terrible choices about how to handle his otherworldly power. The bigger he got, the more people he cut out of his life, until about 1990, when, in Knopper’s telling,everyone who genuinely cared for the young, pre-“Thriller” Jackson had been forcefully denied access to his life. “Michael began to run perilously low on people who could tell him what not to do,” Knopper writes.

.

Perhaps this set of circumstances is what allowed some of Jackson’s more dubious behaviors to continue unchecked. Everyone knows about his pathological relationship with plastic surgery, which turned him from classic man to plastic man right before our eyes. It is estimated that he underwent dozens of procedures, many of which were botched or of shoddy quality. He lightened his skin and, over the years, his public explanations for doing so varied. He claimed to suffer from vitiligo, which causes skin to lose its pigment in patches—a condition his autopsy confirmed, though that explanation had always been met with skepticism from the black community. (Vitiligo can arise spontaneously or be inherited; it can also be triggered by bleaching.) Whether or not the disease was behind the dramatic change in his skin color, Jackson surely was motivated, at least in part, by a belief common to Americans: that light skin, thin lips, small noses, and straight hair represent the most perfect example of beauty.

.

This is the complexity of Jackson’s relationship with blackness. He had most physical evidence of it sliced out of his body—but his music and work are filled with an abiding appreciation for the music, art, and deeply powerful soul of black folks. From the “Nigeria 70”-inspired breakdown in “ABC” to his 1991 solo album, “Dangerous,” on which he eschewed the jazz and melodic direction of his earlier work in favor of Teddy Riley’s urban R. & B. club beats, to outright pro-Africa songs, like “Liberian Girl,” Jackson’s debt to African and African-American culture was always clear. “Of course he loved being black,” Riley told Rolling Stone. “We’d be in sessions where we’d just vibe out and he’d say, ‘We are black, and we are the most talented people on the face of the Earth.’ I know this man loved his culture, he loved his race, he loved his people.” Perhaps even more surprising for the casual M. J. fan is the clear-headed speech he delivered, in 2002, to a majority-black crowd, at Al Sharpton’s National Action Network, in Harlem. “I know my race,” he said. “I just look in the mirror—I know I’m black.” The crowd erupted.

.

Your blackness is not a result of your skin but of the experiences that that skin brings to you. It is deepened when you watch Rodney King get beaten nearly to death on television by police officers, as Jackson must have, along with the rest of us, in March, 1991. It is awakened again when you start to think about how many of the black artists who enriched your employer died broke and forgotten (something Jackson spoke about in the Harlem speech). M. J.’s blackness was something that he couldn’t escape. This may be why black people continued to accept and root for him despite what, on the surface, appeared to be his rejection of us. No matter what he became, we knew the struggle and pain that made him so. We knew the mid-century racism, and the desperate, dominating father. We knew the whoopings that were part discipline, part violent and selfish abuse, and part twisted grooming for a world that would do its best to deliver an even more savage psychological beatdown. We know that American racism creates such a vast array of insanity among its victims that even Michael Jackson, twisted, bizarre, and impossible to comprehend, makes perfect sense in its context.

.

But there is more about Jackson that we did not know. You can’t write about him without acknowledging that he was an accused child molester—indeed, this sometimes seems to be all that people under the age of thirty know about him. Knopper does his best to examine every piece of evidence in the public record, and concludes that it is more likely that Jackson did not commit the crimes he was accused of. But Knopper’s judgment is far from conclusive. No matter how it is read, this part of the story is sordid and sickening. One of the parents who levelled charges against Jackson demanded payment and a three-picture screenwriting deal by way of settlement. The mother of another child continued to encourage her son to stay with Jackson long after she claimed to have become suspicious.

.

Of course, if he was innocent, Jackson’s own weirdness, his complete inability to understand normal social boundaries, is largely to blame for the public shit show that ensued. In the now-infamous Martin Bashir documentary “Living with Michael Jackson,” Jackson volunteers, unprompted, that he loves sharing beds with children. “I sleep in the bed with all of them,” he says. “Then we wake up at, like, dawn, and go in the hot-air balloon. . . . It’s very right. It’s very loving. That’s what the world needs now. More love. More heart.” Bashir challenges him, asking sarcastically, “The world needs a man who’s forty-four sleeping in a bed with children?” Jackson replies, “No, you’re making it all wrong. That’s wrong, because what’s wrong with sharing a love?”

.

Who is this person? If he is a predator, then there is no way that anything else he did, no matter how moving, can be honored. But what if he is simply a person who believes completely and desperately that genuine and honest love is the only important thing there is? This is what makes us obsess over the horror of Michael Jackson. We must know whether he is an angel or beast. The concerts in front of millions, the humans reduced to tears at the mere sight of his hand, the way his voice can soften the hardest and most frightened parts of us—these things convince us that he is the former. But maybe that version of him is simply too fanciful, too naïve for us, mired as we are in the muck of our human struggle. Maybe we cannot or will not accept the existence of the kind of unblemished love he claimed to represent.

.

We have a deep and consuming desire to capture the divine and somehow align it with our human selves. Jackson was a vehicle for something divine, and so, perhaps, we find it pleasing to tether him more firmly to our world, by proving that he is exactly as shoddy and vulgar as we all are.

.

What if he had been born somewhere else, to a different family? Anywhere else. Say, a small fishing town in Mexico. There he would be, this child. Preternaturally gifted, with an ability to touch people with his voice. A way of imitating love and heartache in song. He would sing for people from an early age. They would love him and celebrate him. He might get special treatment as the one who can make mothers cry and fathers shake their heads slowly and choke back tears. But he would also remain a kid. He would run and play with other children. He would work with the rest of the family on whatever the family did. On the fishing boat with the other young men. At the family store. Maybe running a guesthouse for travellers. He would grow into a man. Maybe he would play songs on guitar. Maybe girls would love him. Maybe he would marry one. Maybe he would have trouble being faithful. Maybe he would drink too much. Maybe he would have kids of his own and teach them the songs he knew growing up. Maybe people would always be touched somewhat by the light in his eyes, but it would fade as he grew. Maybe he would grow old and a little thick around the middle from beer and age. Maybe he would teach his grandchildren to sing songs and weave fishing nets. Maybe they would only be partially interested, having discovered YouTube and Twitter, but their parents would scold the younger ones to respect their grandfather. Maybe, when he died, it would be only the old folks who remembered that he had been a beautiful singer in his younger years.

.

I wish this had happened to Michael Jackson. I wish he had been talented enough to make people happy, but nothing more. It would mean, of course, that we would never have got to have him, but he would have had himself. I have a son of my own now. He’s twelve. He recently told me that one of his earliest memories is of coming home from school to find the television on, trumpeting the news that Jackson had died. I can picture my son at that age, wide eyes like dark moons; soft, simple skin; the tiniest and most perfect hands; centuries of soul packed layers deep in his little voice. He reminded us, in fact, of a young Michael Jackson. Probably many children, in a certain light, remind people of a young Michael Jackson. My son remembers walking into the kitchen and seeing his parents, grown, weary, and old, embracing each other and crying as though they were the babies. He did not understand why.

.

Now I think I do. We were not crying for the loss of Michael Jackson... We were crying for the inevitable loss of all of our childhoods.

Interesting article. neutral

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Reply #254 posted 12/03/15 8:52pm

purplethunder3
121

avatar

In honor of the Wiz Live, gotta post this smile :

"Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything." --Plato

https://youtu.be/CVwv9LZMah0
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Reply #255 posted 12/04/15 6:22am

OldFriends4Sal
e

File:Privatejoy.jpg

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Reply #256 posted 12/04/15 6:07pm

QueenofPurpleP
alace

avatar

So we need to talk about Michael posing in his damn drawers. ...
http://www.epa.eu/arts-cu...s-52433280

He makes me sick lmao
I Just Came To Dance and Shade for Yall
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Reply #257 posted 12/04/15 8:49pm

PharaohThoth

MICHAEL JACKSON Vs. PRINCE : Friends or Foes? (The Historic Rivalry)

http://www.kanyetothe.com...=4209777.0

Interesting post I found on kanyetothe. I'm sure a majority of it has been posted here but dope nonetheless. biggrin

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Reply #258 posted 12/05/15 2:44am

midnightmover

7thday said:

Earlier in this thread, or the thread Is "1989" having the biggest impact in pop culture since "Thriller"? I said Michael Jackson was a pedophile. I'd like to apologize for that comment, as I've done more reading on the internet and it seems Michael Jackson was the victim of extortion scams by greedy parents. Like a lot of other people, I believed the television media circus that always followed him around and never dug deeper into the story. I believe the media did a very poor job of reporting the cases of Michael Jackson. I've never bought an MJ album, in the 1980s I was heavily into bands like Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, King Crimson and The Bangles. Fame can be a terrible thing, and in Michael Jackson's life in tended to work against him. Really it's a tragedy the way the media hounds the world's celebrities. Any way, I apologize to the many fans of Michael Jackson here on the org if I caused them distress. I'm sorry.

[Edited 11/16/15 12:39pm]

[Edited 11/16/15 12:40pm]

You shouldn't apologize. You got it right the first time. If you've been looking on the internet for info then no wonder you believe he's innocent. The internet is overloaded with MJ fanatics spewing pro-MJ propaganda. The biggest facts are hardly ever mentioned, and brazen lies about his victims are repeated over and over.


Also, the media's poor reporting on MJ is the exact opposite of what you said. The truth is they've been covering his tracks for years. They barely said a word about his anti-semitic phone message for instance, or the allegations which have been made since his death by long term friends Jimmy Safechuck and Wade Robson (who each shared his bed on hundreds of occasions). You also might want to check out the story of Terry George (a millionaire who had nothing to gain financially from speaking).


Here's a site that cuts through the crap and is more fact-based than what you'll get elsewhere.

http://www.mjfacts.com/

“The man who never looks into a newspaper is better informed than he who reads them, inasmuch as he who knows nothing is nearer to truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors.”
- Thomas Jefferson
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Reply #259 posted 12/05/15 6:12am

Free2BMe

purplethunder3121 said:

In honor of the Wiz Live, gotta post this smile :





YES!!! Thanks for posting this. I love this footage. Btw, I really enjoyed WIZ LIVE, also.
[Edited 12/5/15 6:27am]
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Reply #260 posted 12/05/15 9:38am

MichaelJackson
5

midnightmover said:

7thday said:

Earlier in this thread, or the thread Is "1989" having the biggest impact in pop culture since "Thriller"? I said Michael Jackson was a pedophile. I'd like to apologize for that comment, as I've done more reading on the internet and it seems Michael Jackson was the victim of extortion scams by greedy parents. Like a lot of other people, I believed the television media circus that always followed him around and never dug deeper into the story. I believe the media did a very poor job of reporting the cases of Michael Jackson. I've never bought an MJ album, in the 1980s I was heavily into bands like Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, King Crimson and The Bangles. Fame can be a terrible thing, and in Michael Jackson's life in tended to work against him. Really it's a tragedy the way the media hounds the world's celebrities. Any way, I apologize to the many fans of Michael Jackson here on the org if I caused them distress. I'm sorry.

[Edited 11/16/15 12:39pm]

[Edited 11/16/15 12:40pm]

You shouldn't apologize. You got it right the first time. If you've been looking on the internet for info then no wonder you believe he's innocent. The internet is overloaded with MJ fanatics spewing pro-MJ propaganda. The biggest facts are hardly ever mentioned, and brazen lies about his victims are repeated over and over.


Also, the media's poor reporting on MJ is the exact opposite of what you said. The truth is they've been covering his tracks for years. They barely said a word about his anti-semitic phone message for instance, or the allegations which have been made since his death by long term friends Jimmy Safechuck and Wade Robson (who each shared his bed on hundreds of occasions). You also might want to check out the story of Terry George (a millionaire who had nothing to gain financially from speaking).


Here's a site that cuts through the crap and is more fact-based than what you'll get elsewhere.

http://www.mjfacts.com/

This thread is for discussion of Mike's music and not his sexual orientation. But MJ was guilty of only being too nice to turn those kids away from him.

He's not a stranger in the neighborhood. He was, and still is, one of the most famous men in the world. We are all very familiar with him. He had a HIStory of caring for children's causes and for children. What was he supposed to do? Be cruel and tell those kids, whose dream was to be near him..."You can't sleep in my room with me because society thinks I might try to have sex with you? " It would break a kid's heart to hear him say such a thing. Sex was the furthest thing from MJ's mind when he let the kids sleep on his bed. All he tried to do was fulfill their dreams to be with him, the King of Pop. It was the most loving thing he could have done. MJ is all about love.


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Reply #261 posted 12/05/15 3:43pm

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

QueenofPurplePalace said:

So we need to talk about Michael posing in his damn drawers. ...
http://www.epa.eu/arts-cu...s-52433280

He makes me sick lmao


Naw, don't like, lol.
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Reply #262 posted 12/05/15 5:01pm

QueenofPurpleP
alace

avatar

Beautifulstarr123 said:

QueenofPurplePalace said:

So we need to talk about Michael posing in his damn drawers. ...
http://www.epa.eu/arts-cu...s-52433280

He makes me sick lmao


Naw, don't like, lol.



I can't stand him for those Flash Dance socks lol
I Just Came To Dance and Shade for Yall
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Reply #263 posted 12/05/15 6:09pm

mjscarousal

QueenofPurplePalace said:

So we need to talk about Michael posing in his damn drawers. ... http://www.epa.eu/arts-cu...s-52433280 He makes me sick lmao

eek LAWD HELP ME! DID MJ REALLY POSE FOR THIS!?!?!?!

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Reply #264 posted 12/05/15 7:21pm

Ego101

Outrageous! lol

QueenofPurplePalace said:

So we need to talk about Michael posing in his damn drawers. ... http://www.epa.eu/arts-cu...s-52433280 He makes me sick lmao

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Reply #265 posted 12/06/15 3:01pm

QueenofPurpleP
alace

avatar

Who did it better Prince or Michael lmao



I Just Came To Dance and Shade for Yall
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Reply #266 posted 12/06/15 3:28pm

mjscarousal

OMGGG eek biggrin biggrin biggrin biggrin MICHAEL won! razz

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Reply #267 posted 12/06/15 3:29pm

mjscarousal

QueenofPurplePalace said:

Beautifulstarr123 said:
Naw, don't like, lol.
I can't stand him for those Flash Dance socks lol

LMAO!

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Reply #268 posted 12/06/15 10:03pm

NaughtyKitty

avatar

The banned, uncut version of TDCAU.

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Reply #269 posted 12/07/15 11:04am

Beautifulstarr
123

avatar

QueenofPurplePalace said:

Beautifulstarr123 said:



Naw, don't like, lol.



I can't stand him for those Flash Dance socks lol


Can't stand it, period, lol.
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