Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Final Tribute to the King of Pop

I don't know why I didn't think to re-post this when the King of Pop pooped out, but I remembered on my bike ride to work this morning that I had written an xmas poem about Michael Jackson back in 1996, and re-used it a few years ago when he again got in trouble for his priestly relations with boys. So, for the last time, here it is again, and this is the last time I will ever mention the talented nutjob on this blog.


Twas the night before Christmas, I was home at my place
Trying to decide how to next change my face
The stockings were hung by the chimney with glee
One for Tito, Germaine, my monkey and me
My guests had retired and closed tight their peepers
And were having the dreams of those cute boys in “Sleepers”

My wife in her nightgown and me in my glove
Were heading to bed where we never made love
When came from the roof some horrible sounds
I ordered security to examine the grounds
What in the heck could all the noise be
An angry return by Lisa Marie?
The guards moved like lightning, and in a flash
They’d captured the culprit and were kicking his ass

I had to go see who it was they had collared
I could hear all the screams as the intruder hollered
It was hard to believe when I saw who they’d caught
“Can it be that they’ve nabbed Father Christmas?” I thought

Oh yes, there he stood in his gaudy red suit
And on each foot he wore a black boot
His beard was more white than the skin on my face
And his fleshy midsection was quite a disgrace
He stood there before me with his bulbous red nose
(Maybe I’ll call my doctor and get one of those)
I called off the guards and said “How ya doin”
“Nice job” he replied, “ now your Christmas is ruined”.

I could tell by his scowl the old guy was pissed
It’s not very pretty when Santa gets dissed
“For roughing up Santa, you androgynous asshole
I’ll be filling your stocking with nothing but coal.
I had planned to load up the whole place with toys,
By the way, I know what you do with those boys!
And you know, your music was better back when
You and your brothers sang songs like “Ben”
Before you decided to make yourself white
and turned yourself into this horrible sight.
And about your new wife I must say it’s perplexing
How you fathered a child when you ain’t done no sexing
And I’d sure kick your ass if you were my elf
for the way you are always touching yourself
Now , schmuck, I’ll make you pay for your sin
I’ll take back what I brought you, which was a new chin…”

And on and on he went with his rant
to remember it all, well I must say I can’t
He raged on my life, going issue by issue
I wish Tito were there to bring me a tissue
And just when I hoped that his tirade was done
he said “Sit down wimp, this show’s just begun”
Two hours he yelled, that angry old guy
and all I could do was sit there and cry.
It was the worst thing that could ever transpire
worse even than having your hair set on fire.

When St. Nick had finished stating his case
he turned on his heels and stormed from the place
he jumped to the roof, and returned to his sleigh
And yelled to his reindeer to take him away
And he screamed as his rig moved high off the planet
“Your not half the man of your sister Janet”

Well it wasn’t a very good Christmas that year
not filled with joy, not filled with cheer
And to think of it now, well it just makes me twitch
Ah, screw the old bastard, who needs him, I’m rich!

1 comment:

Kip said...

Hilarious!! I have just inappropriately burst out laughing thrice at work. Thanks for the well-deserved chuckle! Are we, can we, PLEASE be done with this... network TV!?!?!?