My boys came running out of the computer room this afternoon, eyes brimming with tears, terror on their faces, "momma, momma!!" as they tried to wriggle behind my back, seeking protection. I could hear strange noises emitting from the computer speakers.
"What have you two gotten into on the computer?"
"Nothing!" my older son declares. "We were just watching cartoons and we found something too scary!"
A blood-curdling scream comes from the computer. What the heck were they watching?
Turns out they stumbled on some cartoon Michael Jackson parody and it Freaked. Them. Out. (It didn't help that the other cartoon characters were also terrified of the creepy Michael Jackson caricature popping up from behind the couch asking about the children; ha ha ha). The boys were horrified by the image of this ghostly, rhinoplastied presence with the inhumanly squeaky voice. I tried to comfort them by explaining that the cartoon was a joke, poking fun at a famous singer. But this only seemed to make matters worse.
I spent the rest of the afternoon fielding question after question regarding Michael Jackson’s career, childhood and decent into madness. Why did he make his face look like that? Why did he go crazy? Is he a good crazy or bad crazy? My five year old repeatedly wanted assurances that Michael Jackson lived no where near us and that he had no plans to leave his palatial estate in Dubai and come here to Vernon.
"What have you two gotten into on the computer?"
"Nothing!" my older son declares. "We were just watching cartoons and we found something too scary!"
A blood-curdling scream comes from the computer. What the heck were they watching?
Turns out they stumbled on some cartoon Michael Jackson parody and it Freaked. Them. Out. (It didn't help that the other cartoon characters were also terrified of the creepy Michael Jackson caricature popping up from behind the couch asking about the children; ha ha ha). The boys were horrified by the image of this ghostly, rhinoplastied presence with the inhumanly squeaky voice. I tried to comfort them by explaining that the cartoon was a joke, poking fun at a famous singer. But this only seemed to make matters worse.
I spent the rest of the afternoon fielding question after question regarding Michael Jackson’s career, childhood and decent into madness. Why did he make his face look like that? Why did he go crazy? Is he a good crazy or bad crazy? My five year old repeatedly wanted assurances that Michael Jackson lived no where near us and that he had no plans to leave his palatial estate in Dubai and come here to Vernon.
I tell you, explaining the mental stability of a former super star who disfigures himself, pays women to bear his children and may or may not sleep with young boys to a 5 and 3 year old takes a lot of creative, round-about explaining.
After all, I don't want to give the kids nightmares or anything...
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