Hello fellow travelers!
I saw Michael Jackson's daughter, Paris. Paris Jackson is 15 and gorgeous. Ms. Jackson was in the hospital after attempting suicide. I wondered what would make a pretty girl with more money than she'll ever spend be so sad. I would have told her to put on her big girl panties and buck up. Then I listened to her. She broke my heart. She was a normal girl who missed her dad. Michael Jackson was a good dad after all!
Michael Jackson got on board the crazy train for me many years ago. Somewhere between dangling that baby and his nose falling off in court, I stopped keeping track of him. His kids were relegated to being hidden behind strange masks and blankets.
And their names, Lord their names. I mean, who names their kid blanket? Who in the hell wants to be known as blanket? They're all grown now; all beautiful. When that little girl spoke from her hospital bed, she spoke from her heart. She touched my heart. Paris' life has been in a tailspin apparently since her father died. Missing my own dad, I can totally relate. The difference being I will see my dad and she won't. What struck me about all three of the Jackson kids is how normal they are. How heartbreakingly normal. I would tell Ms. Jackson the same thing I've told my young nieces, that she will change every three years like clockwork until she's about 30. Has she ever heard of Cheyenne and Christian Brando? Of course not! Have you? Of course not! They're dead and no one cares. If Cheyenne had been told and if she believed that she would be a different person soon, she might have really thought her options. Because after you commit suicide you have no options. So hang on Ms. Jackson, hang on. You'll be different soon.
PS
I know I was pretty hard on Paula Deen. I didn't compare her to Hitler. I have no idea how Hitler cooked or with what.
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