What's weird is, without the unexpected outcome to the story the piece would obviously have been yet another cog in the Jackson Industrial Hype Complex. Probably on a DVD sold at the shows or something, as hyperbolic and ultimately alienating in its narcissism as the countless quick cut edited montages of MJ's "greatness" that have been presented to the public before. How many records sold. How many fainting fans. How many giant fascistic statues floating up the Thames.
Now it's an orphan. A little snippet of dreams that will never be.
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