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sharing the love

Americans, I believe the infamous Michael Jackson interview is on your screens tomorrow. I advise you to watch from behind the sofa, as it is the freakiest thing in the world. Not content with having given his youngest son the same name as his older son, he refers to the infant, in all seriousness, as 'Blanket'. yes, Blanket. Why? Who knows. He's demented.

In one particularly unsettling scene, he feeds the baby with a bottle while the obviously distressed baby writhes in discomfort, his small face covered with a heavy mesh veil. He has told the kids that they don't have a mother, which they repeat to the obviously disturbed Martin Bashir.

Martin Bashir isn't a great interviewer, but the bits where he loses his smooth professional facade and just stares at Jackson in horrified disbelief are definitely worth watching. The whole thing is rather distasteful, but you probably won't be able to look away - even if you're peeking out from behind the sofa...

Comments

leedy
Feb. 7th, 2003 02:23 am (UTC)
Yes, it's rare that you see anyone literally rubbing their hands together with glee.

"Brilliant, Jackson's coming in this afternoon! Bring out the job lot of gaudy urns and chess pieces shaped like small baroque churches!"

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