What did I tell you? HMM? Jackson Family Court is back in full swing for the Litigious Season. Reports are today that Jackson matriarch Katherine Jackson has filed suit in Los Angeles Superior Court against AEG Live, a major concert promotion/production company for causing her son Michael Jackson’s death.

Give me a moment here.





What kind of HUGE DUSTY DEMENTED OLD BALLS does it take for this woman to claim that an entertainment company KILLED HER SON??? How MASSIVE are her DELUSIONAL TESTICLES? How GINORMOUS her SAGGY SAC? Bloody HELL.

Jackson claims that when her son signed on with AEG to perform a series of comeback/farewell/whatever concerts in London in 2009 , the company forced Jackson to use the medical services of Dr. Conrad Murray (the putz who ended up wimping out under Michael's mighty drug demands, OD-ing Ol’ Glovey into his mausoleum), forced Jackson to comply with the set rehearsal schedule, and was negligent in not providing Jackson with CPR equipment and a nurse at all times.

Mrs. Jackson? Ma’am? Shall we back up a bit here? Oh, let’s DO.

I feel just compelled to point out the stinking rotting elephant in the room. Michael Jackson was a complete pathetic lunatic and addict, had been for most of his life, and was made so primarily from self-reported FAMILY ABUSE and the pressures he suffered as a child in the entertainment business. Yet the Jackson family never ONCE stepped in to provide him with any kind of meaningful treatment for his problems. Never ONCE said A THING about the fact that he BOUGHT THREE CHILDREN TO OWN. Never ONCE backed off from an opportunity to financially profit off of the family’s major cash cow.

Mrs. Jackson, are you upset that Michael can no longer create any new money-making ventures? The back catalogue not enough these days?

I suggest that you and your family are doing what you have always done: blaming others for your own mistakes and failures so you never have to own up to what you’ve done. Instead, you get your disgusting vulture lawyers to comb over paperwork to try to dredge up anything that lines your pockets and relieves what I hope is an ugly boiling guilt that eats away at your guts daily, when you don’t shove it down with misguided attempts at righteous justice “for Michael.”

Fuck you. I hope the judge stands up and pees on all of you.