James Howard Kuntsler looks at the life, half-death, and death of Michael Jackson and sees America -- except for America's huge silicone tits and priapism. This is wicked.
As America entered the horse latitudes of summer, befogged in a muffling stillness on deceptively calm seas, we were distracted for a while by visions of a pale death angel moonwalking across the deck of collective consciousness. Eerie parallels resound between the sordid demise of pop singer Michael Jackson and the fate of the nation.
Like the United States, Michael Jackson was spectacularly bankrupt, reportedly in the range of $800 million, which is rather a lot for an individual. Had he lived on a few more years, he might have qualified for his own TARP program -- another piece of expensive dead-weight down in the economy's bilges....
Like the USA, Michael Jackson was a has-been.... He existed strictly on image, an anorectic figure nourished by moonbeams of attention, famous for saying that he loved his worshippers when the truth was he merely sucked the life out of them. In his last years, he even looked a bit like Nosferatu, the personification of the un-dead, and his fascination with ghouls was the basis for his biggest hit way back in the last century. A zombie nation deserves a zombie mascot.
2 comments:
I should be ashamed to admit that I just stole this. Instead, I'll just say "thank you."
Jim: Thanks for the link -- and thank Kunstler, the always cheery Dr. Doom for whom the line a zombie mascot for a zombie nation was simply an inevitability.
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