Michael Jackson Cannibalizes Baby

ichael Jackson was caught on video like a red-handed bandit man Tuesday, salaciously nibbling on his youngest son’s toe in full view of the German media. Jackson, who was staying in a Berlin hotel while visiting that country for a Save Dem Childrens benefit, waved to the cameras and flashed a “kissy-peace� hand gesture to his fans before he closed the blinds and proceeded to partake in what can only be speculated as an orgy of underage cannibalism.

“It just sickens me when I close my eyes and think about it,� sighed small-town cop Bufus Randall, who answers questions 24 hours a day and is like a procrastinating reporter’s wet dream. “Just picturing that monster, slurping the baby’s entrails like spaghetti, munching his bones like peppermint sticks and licking the baby’s empty hide clean like a goddamned dinner plate. God. I think I’m gonna be sick.�

Professional housewife Mandy St. Clair echoed Randall’s concerns.

“It’s like it makes you, I don’t know. Want. Want to do something to make that thing different. You know? Different so he’s not eating those babies. Because that’s just wrong, even if the babies want to be eaten. Because how could you really know? They might smile and wave their arms around like they want to be eaten, but it might just be because they’re remembering something nice from when they’re in the womb. Or they might have gas, sometimes babies smile who have gas. So you shouldn’t just eat them.�

Jackson’s fans were quick to defend the troubled star, who recently sort of testified in his own defense in a courtward lawsuit.

“Even if Michael did eat that baby, he only did it for the fans. That’s how much he cares,� explained Kyoko Matsui, a screaming Tokyo fan of Jackson’s appearances on cereal boxes in her home country. “People were yelling, ‘We want to meet the baby!’ and I guess since it was so noisy, Michael probably thought they were saying ‘We want you to eat the baby!’ It was just a tragic misunderstanding.�

But noted sports psychologist Dr. Mandra Jimsack was wary of letting Jackson off the hook so easily.

“Fans yell out all kinds of crazy requests to stars, that doesn’t mean they have to follow them. It’s the star’s job to set boundaries and know where to draw the line. Signing some autographs or flashing your tits out the sunroof of a limo? That’s being a good star. Jerking off in a men’s room at the park or shooting a rival recording artist in the testicles? That’s just going too far. And also, lighting a fart on fire at the Golden Globes? That’s very bad, Mr. Sandler. Very bad.�

Activist groups rallied within minutes of the tape airing on the German news, calling for whatever kind of social services Germany might have to step in and take Jackson’s remaining children away before dinnertime. Lawyers for German’s Die Station news network were also preparing a lawsuit against the singer. According to sources, Jackson caused two of the station’s cameramen to fall out of an evergreen tree near the hotel when he refused to leave his blinds open, forcing them to attempt filming through a small opening in the bathroom window.

Hours later, Jackson appeared at a puppet museum with the live toddler in tow, setting off ripples of speculation through the “thought he ate the baby� community. Randall, however, was not so quick to forgive and forget.

“Jesus Christ, how many of those things has he got? Well, I guess we can add human cloning to the list of charges. Fuckin’ fruit.�

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OH MY GOD SNOW

Jim Henson, an unemployed sock factory worker with delusions that would make Mark David Chapman roll his eyes, titter, and run off to the closet to masturbate feverishly into a tea cozy, did not create the Muppets. Popular assumption is the asshole on that one. Nor did he even discover them, as several Kings of England before him had conferred with the strange beings on matters of state politics and interior decorating for hundreds of years. Rather, Henson's genius lay in using felt puppet totems to channel the beings from their Muppet-realm during hour-long televised séances that he would pass off as children's entertainment. How would America's parents feel if they knew the secret behind this children's television mainstay? It's a trick question, America doesn't have parents. It's a country, stupid.

Many parents would shrivel and dry up like a baked turnip to learn that they subjected their children to this brand of pagan daycare for years, parking their drooling tots in front of the one-eyed monster for hours of seemingly free babysitting. Of course, they'd crap out their own appendix if they knew that Mr. Rogers had to do his show to fulfill the community service portion of his probation. As much should have been obvious since he spent half the damn show changing clothes in order to dodge his parole officer.

Henson wasn't an ex-con himself, but he did have more issues than National Geographic. Regardless, he will always be remembered as a great American because he found a way to work through his demons and bring us all a dog that played the piano.

The real question is who in the hell was making these Muppets move, since back then they didn't have computer animation or midgets small enough to fit in a Gonzo suit. It wasn't until Chernobyl that this was possible. The evidence suggests that even Henson himself didn't know. He was primarily into the puppets, and some have suggested that his entire knowledge of the occult came from a supernatural joke book he found in his aunt's sock drawer. No one knows which joke it was that brought the Muppets to life, but my money's on:

Q. Why didn't the ghost have fun at the ball?

A. He didn't have any body to dance with.

That one's a classic.

Regardless of which joke it was that did the trick, before he knew it Henson's puppets were all possessed by former heads of state and card sharks who had got themselves on some kind of shit list in the afterlife where they always had to be on call in case somebody dug up a dusty old book of spells and read off an incantation in a fake English accent on a lark.

There are whole clubs of weird people who get together and debate over who each of the Muppets really was, but nobody can really ever say for sure. Though I challenge anyone to provide any compelling evidence that Winston Churchill wasn't the Swedish chef. It's just too perfect. And though some have argued that he's already been reincarnated as a diaper lining in dysentery country, I'll always believe that Hitler came back as Beaker. I mean, Christ, just look at the guy. They even have the same voice. I've watched some old documentary footage of Hitler and it's uncanny, "Meep-meep-meep-meep-meep."

It's shocking news for most of you, I know. But in the big picture it hardly matters, as kids still learned to count and that aliens are agreeable. Nobody got hurt, except for the days when Dr. Teeth had his pimp shirt on or that time Sweetums went apeshit and ate some of the singing pigs. But, all in all, a small price to pay for years of free babysitting, and it was still the most wholesome thing on television after the cast of Pinwheel found out about cocaine.

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When they say "we're all family here at the commune," they don't mean it. At least they don't mean they're the kind of family you can move in with when you hit upon hard times. In fact, I don't think they even say "we're all family here at the commune," I think I just heard Red Bagel singing "We Are Family" and possibly misinterpreted it. I haven't been this embarrassed since the similar incident where Mr. Bagel was singing "I Want Your Sex."

By now you're probably asking yourself, "Is this going anywhere?" Yes, indeed it is. And in response to the other question you're possibly thinking, you're correct, I believe that is infected. However I'll let you deal with your private problems while I deal with mine.

Following the disintegration of my marriage and the disruption of life as I knew it, I've spent roughly a month (indeed roughly) living in my desk here at the commune. Fortunately I have a large desk and my small stature allowed for comfortable quarters, but we can't keep cleaning people employed, they all have pretty weak stamina for seeing a small nude man sleeping in a desk drawer. I personally say stay out of my drawers, but since they work for tips and whatever they can find in the desks, the staff and administration of the commune have tossed me out to the streets.

Fear not, good people, I'm no longer homeless. Help has come from a most unexpected source: My nephew Camembert has taken me in. Camembert has a heart as big as all outdoors, just like his thick eyeglasses. Plus, he's living the high life on those disability payments from the government, in no small part thanks to Rok Finger, and I think he remembers that.

Camembert and I make the perfect odd couple, it's quite hilarious. He is a slob and I am a neat freak, minus the "neat" part. I am actually very sloppy, and so is he, but we hate each other so it's kind of like we're neat and sloppy alternately. He is gangly and bookwormish, while I'm suave and popular, at least while inside the apartment. I can walk. He can't.

The two of us being such an odd couple, you can bet I'm always thinking of that play. Camembert, on the other hand, is not as big a fan of Oleanna and doesn't enjoy acting it out as much as I do. I would allow him to play the role of the professor, but I don't fit into the wig and school girl outfit as well as he does. But we have fun, even if he sometimes doesn't.

Being on my own again, with Camembert, reminds me of the old Rokwell T. Finger bachelor days. Being single is not so bad, except for the debilitating loneliness. No woman to nag me, no woman to tell me to clean up my messes and bug me about where I'm going and why am I out so late, no woman to keep me up all night with her crying. Camembert does that all better than Arvelyn ever did. And boy, can he cook! No, he can't.

I've already begun making the place my own, putting in some of my furniture like the pine needle sofa and hanging up some things like my Farrah Fawcett posters. Camembert is quick to point out they're not posters so much as invasive polaroids taken through her window, and I have to agree, then we laugh and I dress him up as a girl and kick him around for a bit.

I'm going to enjoy the single life.

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