Goodbye Michael

Michael Jackson's death was one of those monumental do-you-remember-where-you-were-when-you-heard-the-news things. And this being the modern world, it was a moment that was marked by me flipping open my laptop and logging onto Yahoo. Weird, huh? Kinda takes all the glamour out.

I've waited a few days to post about this because I kind of wanted to watch and see what the reaction "out there" was. And as the reaction was big as I think it should be, I've got to say I don't get those people who's first reaction was to join a big crowd standing outside the hospital where he was pronounced dead and hold a "vigil". I mean what the hell? Did they expect him to resurrect? Or (as I strongly suspect) did they want to be in the thick of things when the news cameras came?



Well I for one think MJ was pretty amazing. He was the first guy I ever had a crush on. In 1984 I got to work "T-Shirt Security" for 2 nights at Mile High Stadium during The Jackson's Victory Tour. I was stationed backstage just a few meters from where all the Jacksons arrived and got out of their limos for the show. As they all got out in their sequined jumpsuits I kept thinking, "Is that him? Is that? Is that?"...But when the Michael got out of the limo there was no mistaking him. He had the most amazing aura I've ever seen on a human being. And I'm not saying that because he's just died. I've told this story to friends many times, and that's what I always remark on: It was like this HUGE cloud of white light emanated from him. Later one of the roadies got me these plastic wrap around sunglasses that he had been wearing and I smelled them over and over again like a smitten teenager. And yes, those would be worth a pretty penny now if my dog hadn't eaten them a few years later. I never believed all those allegations of pedophilia. I think he was literally a little boy inside and incapable of intentionally hurting anyone. Inappropriate and weird? Yes. A predator? Not at all.

So anyway here are what I consider the best Michael Jackson Tribute videos. They are both done by 1500 inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention & Rehabilitation Center on the east coast of Cebu Island in the Philippines. The first one was a tribute they seemingly choreographed in one day after MJ's death. I cried like a baby watching it (yeah, I'm a pushover for sweet sentiment being dramatized by the criminal element). The one below is their version of Thriller which they apparently did a while ago. It's got everything Thriller should have: spot-on choreography, prison-issue coffins, and an erstwhile Filipino LadyBoy playing the love interest. Enjoy.



P.S. Just had to add this one too:


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A Nice Place To Be Absent From

Right now yet another Glastonbury Festival is kicking off in Glastonbury, England. I'm aware of this fact because I saw a few moments of coverage on the BBC. They were interviewing people for comments on Michael Jackson's death (more on that from me tomorrow). And of course these people were standing in the pouring rain.



I had the displeasure of going to the Glastonbury Festival three different times because I was performing there. First of all, doing comedy shows to audiences of hungover people sitting on burlap sacks in the mud as they wait for the psychedelics to kick in is rather excruciatingly unrewarding, but the worst part for me was being stuck at the festival for three days.

If I hated it so much why did I go back for a second and a third time, you might ask. Well it was because I was overwhelmed with this feeling that I should like it and that I'd somehow just missed something. there were certain people I knew who acted as if it was the most magical thing that ever happened - a gateway to the garden of eden. At the very mention of it they'd get this knowing look in their eye and say, "Ah, Glastonbury". And if I didn't get it it was because, ya know, I just wasn't jiving with the Glastonbury vibe.

Every year that I was there, and apparently all the years that I wasn't, it rained. To me it defies all logic as to why anyone would plan an outdoor music festival in England during their rainiest season. But every year loyal Glastonbury-goers would arrive at the festival totally unprepared and react with shock that it was raining. "Un-fucking-believable", they'd mumble looking at the grey skies, "I absolutely cannot believe it's raining! At Glastonbury!". And then every year there would be the de rigueur people being all spontaneous playing in the mud...



...Every year, just as spontaneous, just like the original spontaneity of those people playing in the mud at Woodstock 40 years ago.

The whole rain thing was tragic on my hair of course. I would always spend the entire weekend looking like an angry blonde Don King.

One year I woke up entirely immersed in water.



I had to take all my clothes, my sleeping bag and everything, and put them on top of my tent hoping they'd dry in the """sun""". Then I had to go buy a bunch of tie-dyed festival clothes so I'd have something warm to wear. Did I bitch and complain? Oh, you betchya. Still the only response I would get from anyone was a glazed over look and a beatific smile as they said, "That's Glastonbury. You've just got to get into the vibe." So I tried. I did try. Apparently getting into the "vibe" means walking around and around and around through crowds of drunk English people in the mud all looking for God-knows-what, so I did that in ernest. Then the nighttime "vibe" consisted of hanging out with a bunch of comics who you always see getting drunk at comedy clubs. But here it was different because they were getting drunk outdoors. In the rain.

When some people I knew were going to watch The White Stripes I forced myself to join in even though I: A) Don't like crowds; B) Am not particularly fond of The White Stripes; and C) Have never understood the concept of standing and watching music in the first place. The upshot was that I ended up watching the "action" on a screen mounted above the stage while standing, literally, in a foot and a half of water. That's Glastonbury! You've just got to get into the vibe...

People would ask me "How's your Glastonbury going?" and I would answer, "I just want it to be over with. I'm cold and bored and all my shoes have got mud in them." Then they'd stare at me shivering in my newly purchased rainbow-colored kaftan and say, "This is Glastonbury. You've just got to get into the vibe."



One year that I was there a fellow comedienne who was a Glastonbury enthusiast found out that I still had an extra Glastonbury ticket as I hadn't used the extra free one I had been given. She went nuts and became obsessed with what I was going to do it. I had had loose plans to give it to a friend who was maybe planning on showing up, but other than that it didn't really matter to me. She was practically tearing her hair out saying, "Do you know how many people would love that ticket!??"...Every time I ran into her she would ask me what was happening with it. It ended up with her screaming at me in a drunken fury saying, "YOU HAVE TO GIVE IT TO SOMEONE!!". She then phoned a friend of hers and told them I would sell it to them for 100 pounds (??!!!). When I tried to explain that I didn't want to sell it, I just didn't know what I was doing with it yet she snapped a synapse and was practically in tears saying, "You have to give it to someone! IT'S GLASTONBURY! YOU'VE GOT TO GET INTO THE VIBE"

It all ended with me giving the ticket to a comic I know while he gave me wounded puppy dog eyes because apparently he'd been told I'd been "talked out of" charging him 100 pounds for it. So I had to stand there covered in mud handing over a ticket I didn't even care about to atone for something I hadn't even done. It was all very surreal. There was nothing to be done but spend the remaining time walking around in the mud getting drunk and acting as if I were having a good time.

And now there's nothing nicer during Glastonbury Festival time than realizing I'm not there! Woo hoo!
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51 or 54?

I get Area 51 and Studio 54 confused. I can be watching a documentary for a half an hour before I figure out which one they were talking about. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether someone is describing a Standard Grey or Andy Warhol.

Please feel free to take my new quiz, "Area 51 or Studio 54?": Answer "51" or "54" or "BOTH" to each question:

1. Alien abductions?

2. Spandex Jumpsuits?

3. Anal probes?

4. Government coverup?

5. Hallucinations?

6. Bianca Jagger?
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These Are the People in my Neighborhood

I haven't blogged in a l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n-g time. Here are my reasons:

1) Tony



Tony, (our very wild street cat who only loves me) has been ill. Something with his kidneys which meant I had to stay up with him several nights coaxing him to drink water and giving him sponge baths. He is doing much better now, thank you, and is well on the road to recovery. He's even regained the strength to hiss at Wim which made Wim and I almost cry with happiness. He has no doubt mortgaged 1 or more of his 9 lives in the whole debacle but all is well now.


2) I am fat.


I realize some people might not accept this as an excuse for not writing my blog, but believe me when I say that the effects of my fatness are all-encompassing. I simply cannot lose weight and it's turning me into an obsessive freak. Even though I'm a vegan and I've been keeping my calories down to Weight Watcher's levels, I haven't lost anything! So I started going on long walks. Still nothing! And now it's been three weeks solid that I've been walking 12-16km (about 6 1/2-10 miles) a day and I still haven't lost even a gram. Sure I'm feeling healthier, blah blah blah, but who cares when I look like Jabba the Hut? And it just doesn't make any logical sense. I'M DEFYING THE LAWS OF PHYSICS, PEOPLE! But what can I do but carry on. I'm at my wit's end, believe me.

So anyway I thought I'd share some pictures of things I see during my daily walks:


Ducklings! These guys are everywhere all along the canals. They are cute as hell.
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This pigeon always stands somewhere creative, and I admire him for it.


Here he is on a rainy morning sitting on a rope.


...And here he is on a day he decided to have a friend over.
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Here is a random seating area which I like because of it's sheer silliness. All the benches are aimed at the canal, so short of an inter-boat cannon fight, there really isn't anything to see.
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For a few weeks I would see this poster every day. It frightens me. Does it frighten you?
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Here is a turtle in the canal. Yes, a turtle. Apparently he got there after being flushed down the toilet if I'm to believe the rumors on the street.


Here he is with a friend.
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Here is a fabulous Goose couple who run things on the canals.


This is them in their apartment.


Every year, one Goose selects an unwed duck mother to support. He hangs out with her as she sits on her eggs and all the way until her kids are full grown. I like that the Geese do their bit for the community.
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This guy is amazing. He frightens me a bit because I suspect he might be prehistoric, but so far he hasn't given me a hassle.
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More duckings! Look how tiny they are!
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The ruins of a 1000 year old monastery. Ho-hum.
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Where did the duck get this balloon?
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And finally this street chicken. She is quite possibly the cutest chicken I've ever seen. She lives with some friends in some bushes along a street. I'm not saying where though because I'm sure she doesn't want the publicity. I hope she appreciates how considerate that chubby lady with the camera is.
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