Two saxophonists and an impromptu improv on the subway.
How did three of my favorite things (saxophone, Michael Jackson, and improv) combine with two of my least favorite things (the subway and buskers) to give me the most ridiculous smile on my face right now? And they were really jamming too, not some basic “Mary Had a Little Lamb” business. Two strangers just laid it out to “Billy Jean” and I am not mad at all.
Would it be weird of me to carry my saxophone with me everywhere now, so I can hopefully find myself in this situation? Y’all, if I stumble upon somebody playing Whitney “I’m Your Baby Tonight” it’s a wrap. We might even get married after.
On the left is a picture from an issue of Ebony magazine in 1985. The magazine commissioned artist Nathan Wright to imagine what Michael would look like 15 years from then (x). On the right is an actual photo from 2000. It’s a shame what race, class, and self-hate can do to a brilliant man in this country.
I can’t say much about the vitiligo, and all of that plastic surgery is a shame, but Mike’s hair stayed laid though. I don’t know what you call that almost-Rachel hairstyle, but shape-be-damned, dude was never frizzy. His Multitude of Lady-Bobs was always bouncin’ and behavin’.
I will never be parched again. This is the Liptons, the Earl Grey, and the Black Oolong. Teavana wishes they carried as much tea as this NY Post article. I thought I had lived before, but I now know what life really is because it has just been given to me by this article.
I don’t know why everybody is acting brand new. I’ve been saying it forever. I don’t care how much you bleach — if you were born black, your genes still say Black Man. Those kids might not be all white, true. Maybe their biological father comes from some dusty country with burkas, but definitely not descended from the bush like me and Michael and the rest of the Jacksons.
And Katherine Jackson is working hard to make sure we don’t find that out for sure.