Monday, March 24, 2008

Find your inner gimmick!

Bless you. Bless you for taking that first step toward achieving greatness. Bless you for reaching into the great unknown and asking, "Am I good enough?". Bless you for trusting a semi-anonymous online source for life-guidance; because let's face it: You're not doing such a hot job, are you?

I'm Michael Jackson's Glove and I know what you need. My qualifications? I made the whole of humanity embrace a little album called Thriller. I took themes considered controversial in any era - but especially in the era of Reagan's America - themes such as child illegitimacy, gang violence and werewolf aggression - and turned them into piping hot apple-pie vignettes that mothers and grandmothers around the world were proud to feed their young.

All too often, people point to Michael Jackson or Quincy Jones to explain the cultural phenomenon that was Thriller, and actually doubt my impact on the project. To my detractors, I only make one small request: Please examine Bad. While considered a commercial success, Bad is hardly the zeitgeist that was/is/will always be Thriller. What's the difference you ask? The difference is me or rather, the absence of me.

Think about it. With the glove: Michael takes Emanuel Lewis to the Grammies - America giggles. Without the glove: Curiosity turns to concern when rumors arise that Michael sleeps in a hyperbaric chamber while in a 3-way with the Elephant Man's remains and Macaulay Caulken.

I know to leave a party while it's still fun and toward the end of my time with Jackson, things started to get a little creepy. I won't get into details because whoever you are - when you work with The Glove, you get two things: Discretion and Sparkle! But let's just say that I saw some shit that changed me.

After I left, I thought that I could use my talents to help the poor and starving, but most of those people couldn't give a shit about being famous. They just want parasite-free water and the least oppressive ruling regime they can get.

I understand this, but it's not what I do. I was talking with my good friend Hamburger Helper about this and he gave me some excellent advice. "Michael Jackson's Glove," he said, "Your purpose in life is to help the fame-obsessed get over the bubble and plant themselves squarely at the intersection of Stardom Street and Awesomeness Avenue." He continued, "Look at me - I help hamburger reach its fullest potential. Sometimes I can help tuna or chicken, but I know that hamburger is where I really shine. Could I help spaghetti? Probably, but shit man - I'm Hamburger fucking Helper and that's all I ever need to be!"

I thought about those words for a long time people and that's why I'm here today. Do you have a hole in your soul that can only be filled with the approval and acknowledgement of strangers? Do you have a yearning to feel what it's like to suffocate against a wall of applause? Let me help you, you poor huddled mass. You miserable piece of shit.

Talk to me. Tell me why you're failing or better yet - let me tell you why you're failing. I can fix you. Why? Because I'm Michael Jackson's fucking Glove and I'm listening America (and English speaking Canadians and Europeans).




1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'm not brave enough to ask the question I know, deep down, must be asked. Not yet . . . . .