An Old Indian Custom that Some Motherfuckers Need to Embrace

There is an old American Indian custom (don't ask me what damn tribe because I don't know) that when a person dies, it is respectful not to speak of them AT ALL. Not bad remembrances. Not good remembrances. No words. I think that custom is lovely for a number of reasons, and I think the folks around Michael Jackson and the press ought to learn from it.

I frankly don't want to hear anymore speculation about Mike's marriage to Lisa Marie or the children who stayed with him at Neverland Ranch or how much dough Mike's shiftless family members (not all of them, but some of them) are trying to get their greedy grubby hands on. I also don't want to hear anymore about possible prescription drug abuse. It's all over. Michael is dead, and nobody forced the pills down his gullet. That's the way he chose to live, and there are consequences for the decisions we make in life.

Now some people are probably going to get angry with me for saying this, but I don't give a flying fuck. Mike's private life was between him and God. Nobody else. And I personally don't care to make any judgements about what I don't know. It isn't my damn business or yours or those fuckers over at FOX News (especially Bill O'Reilly).

The issue of the children at Neverland will bring the damn do-gooder idiots out of the woodwork in righteous indignation, but the people who should have been concerned about the welfare of the children (whatever happened) are the damn parents of the children who visited Neverland. It was first and foremost their responsibility. I know my mom and dad never would have let SB's amusement-park loving ass go unaccompanied to Neverland Ranch. NO WAY. NO HOW.

I just wish that the press and MJ's famdamily would embrace the wise old Indian custom and shut the fuck up about Michael's life. It just makes them all look base and cruel to speak about what they don't know for sure. It's indecent and cowardly because Mr. Jackson can't defend himself.

I just pray that Michael is finally at peace somewhere. Wherever. And that's all I personally have to say on the subject. And now, I'm going to let it, and Michael, rest. Poor soul.