The other week, I was blessed (by Jesus, I’m pretty sure!) with the opportunity to visit a most wondrous land, entitled “A Whole Bunch of Michael Jackson’s Stuff Sitting in a Big Room.” You see, Michael Jackson accidentally got suuuper destitute, because he spent all of his money on child-sized flying carpets and gold-plated best friends and Teaching Your Pet Chimp Sign Language for Dummies, so he decided to auction off his crazy-shit collection to raise some bucks. All of which meant that people—like ME—could go look at it at an auction house in Los Angeles! At the shit! For a minute! (Later, MJ changed his mind and demanded his shit back, but whatevs. He can’t take back what’s already in my eyeballs.) The most spectacular entry in Michael’s creepy, baroque boudoir of shame was a 1991 oil painting by one Ralph Cowan, depicting “Apocalyptic Scene with Portrait of Michael Jackson in Armor.” Let us explore it in detail. (Click image at right.)
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Little boys never grow up. They just get taller and weirder until their noses fall off, and then they wander off into another dimension looking for their eyeliner.
This may be the best thing I have ever read.
I must mention how disappointed I was that there was no apparent Captain EO paraphernalia at that auction.
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