Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Michael Jackson Is In Some Deep Doo-doo

This has not been a good week for the beleaguered and beat down former pop star Michael Jackson. First he gets all sorts harsh criticism regarding his shockingly pale skin and white lady worthy straight hair on the cover of the newest Ebony magazine–now that's some serious irony for the children to savor–and now it looks like his once beloved "Neverland Ranch" is headed for foreclosure.

Lawhd children, this man has not done himself any favors about the rumors of him lightening his damn skin coming out with a magazine cover looking whiter than a Swedish woman. Honestly Michael, what is wrong witchu?

Anyhoo, Your Mama awoke this morning to a couple of emails from Mister Smiley, one of our more intrepid and gleeful researchers, about poor Michael Jackson's "Neverland Ranch" entering the ugly world of foreclosures. Uh oh. We told the children this might be happening just last week, didn't we?

According to the Mortgage Lender Implode website and the recently released Foreclosure Disclosure Report for Santa Barbara County, Michael Jackson is in default on a $23,000,000 loan backed by "Neverland Ranch," his former home and private playground located in the itty bitty town of Los Olivos, CA at 5225 Figueroa Mountain Road.

According to the report, also in default is the $212,963 in interest due on the loan. More uh oh.

Does this mean that some developer will shortly be swooping in and slicing and dicing "Neverland Ranch" into smaller gentleman's ranches? Will one of The White Lady's few remaining benefactors bail out the former King of Pop? Will MJ be forced to sell his large but heavily mortgaged stake in Sony/ATV, which includes the lucrative publishing rights to 250+ Beatles songs? What will Michael's crazy talking spokesperson Raymone Bain have to say about this mess? Poor, poor Michael Jackson.

Gurl, you oughtta set down that Jesus juice and listen to Your Mama. Before any of your people convince you that all is well with your bank accounts, you get on the horn and call a good psychiatrist to help you work through your deep and many issues. If you need a referral, you just let Your Mama know and we'll get the Dr. Cooter on the case. Seriously gurl, it's time to get it together or you're going to end up some kinda lunatic recluse in some gawd forsaken town where they'd sooner slice your nipples off than lend you two bucks for a damn Slurpee.

And the answer is "no," so don't even think about asking again if you can move in with Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter. No, no, no!

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