I wanna thank everybody for giving me their opinion about whether I should go back on the meds.

Pardon me for shuddering at the realization of how many of us are actually on the Brain Candy. I mean it really is everybody, isn't it? It's like when you meet someone new you have to assume they are on 30 different anti-depressants unless they tell you otherwise.

Can you actually believe there are people that hate our culture? Evil doers.

Anyways, I've heard very good cases for, and against going back to Paxilville. But after spending a week sick in bed watching nothing but Jerry Springer, reality TV shows, and countless specials on Michael Jackson, I must say that I am leaning a bit toward going on extermely heavy drugs.

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And yes, I haven't talked about Michael Jackson as of yet. Here's my take on this fucking weirdo.

To sum up my feelings on him, I think he's a nipple the size of Jupiter.

But for the long version, keep reading...

Imagine if you lived next door to a plumber who called his residence something like "The Neverland Valley Condo."

Imagine if said plumber decorated his property with various trinkets of amusement designed to entertain boys between the ages of 4 and 14.

Also imagine if you will, that whenever you ran into said plumber at the local Home Depot or what have you, his face was caked in makeup, he was wearing socks that glittered, and wore just one glove.

That right there is justification to stone the little prick to death. But let's put down the rocks for a moment and give him a chance.

Let's picture yourself having a small chat with the fellow where you inquire about his interest in little boys, to which he replies in a high pitched voice capable of making a dog howl in pain, stuff like "I love them because I think like them." "I'm a 4 year old trapped in a 44 year old's body." "I cure childern of their cancer when they sleep in my bed." or "I'm the King of Pop!"

Now, not that I'm inplying that a celebrity gets looked on more favorabley then a plumber, God no. But if what I just demonstrated were true, the guy would be dragged out of his house and have the living fuck beat out of him. Old ladies, and children alike would take turns stomping on his nuts.

He'd get the worst beat down since the folks over in Salem, Mass had LSD in their bread.

One thing for sure, if this did happen to a plumber and not an entertainer, people wouldn't be saying "But he's such a good plumber..."

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You know what worries me, is that the reports are true, and he can cure cancer children just by sleeping with them. Imagine if he's an agent of God, and he was sent to deliver us a message of unconditional love, and he's not really freaky, just really innocent, and we're all attacking him and calling him a freak because of it?

Can you imagine how screwed we'd be with the big guy if this were true? I better lay off. Starting now.

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