recently had a few words to say about the record industry.
"The record companies really do conspire against the
artists," he said at the Rev. Al Sharpton's National
Action Network headquarters in Harlem. "Especially
the black artists. When you fight for me, you're fighting
for all black people, dead and alive."
So, are the abysmal
sales of "Invincible" the result of racism by
Jackson's record company Sony, or is there more here than
meets the eye? Sit back, relax, enjoy, and let the Beefboy
do, what the Beefboy does best… and that's break it
right on down for you.
First off, let's
clear something up. In no way, shape, or form, is the Beefboy
a champion for Big Music. It is a fact, that since time
immemorial, large music companies have become exceedingly
wealthy by breaking the balls of new talent. Furthermore,
when that new talent becomes yesterday's news, Big Music
has no qualms about unceremoniously ditching musicians that
no longer make them money and happily pushing newer talent,
whose balls they can, once again, bust. The blood-sucking
undead executives that live like fat cats off the creativity
and talent of artists should be anally induced with a virulent
strain of the Ebola virus and forced to watch re-runs of
Full House through bleeding eyes. The music industry in
general has cheated recording artists, of all races, out
of their rightful piece of the pie. Okay? Now on to M.J.
latest album "Invincible," sold two million copies
before dropping off the charts after 28 weeks. In comparison,
Eminem sold that many copies of his latest album in two
weeks. So left with the realization that an album that reportedly
cost $30 million to produce, has tanked in every conceivable
way, Michael Jackson has decided to call press conferences
and create media stunts to explain his failure. So to help
Jacko with an explanation of why his album didn't sell,
the Beefboy submits to you, and rest of the world, an open
letter to Michael Jackson.
So, after taking
the mantle as the largest selling recording artist of all
time, you've decided that The Man is keeping you down? Sit
down for this one Jacko… you ARE The Man. You cozying
up to the "brothers" is strangely reminiscent
of O.J. Simpson, who shucked his champagne and caviar for
grits when facing life in prison. Funny how those roots
start growing when you need them.
Instead of pulling
racism out of a hat to explain why Sony would invest $30
million in an album and then plot to make it sell poorly,
why don't you take Bubbles the chimp out of your pants and
prepare for the truth as only the Beefboy can lay it on
Jacko, you lost
your musical relevance long before you proclaimed yourself
the "King of Pop." In fact, it was probably about
the time that Weird Al Yankovic recorded "Eat It"
that your hold of the music industry wasin jeopardy. Clearly,
the 80's were a good decade for you, but you ended the 80's
by becoming one of the most laughable cartoon characters
since Elmer Fudd. While other pop stars of the eighties
were fighting to re-invent themselves for the next decade,
you built Neverland Ranch, stocked it with roller coasters,
monkeys and the bones of the Elephant Man, andmeanwhile
did a plastic surgery number on yourself that rivals Mike
Myers' transformation into "Fat Bastard".
were not kind to you, but frankly, you brought it all on
yourself buddy. Marriages of convenience, increasing isolation,
sporadic album releases and highly questionable sexual peccadilloes,
all served to close the door on your fans' desire to hear
your music. Believe the Beefboy when he tells you, we were
far more interested in reading the headlines you generate
for the Enquirer, than we were to hear your music.
You must have
really hit rock bottom to play the race card, much less
to do it with Al Sharpton, who is an even more laughable
flake than you are. Has it occurred to you that you're now
whiter than Donnie Osmond? Do you really believe that you
have anything in common with other black artists? Your complaining
that being black hurt your sales is like Pamela Anderson
complaining that her boobs are too big.
You had a good
run and now it's over. We'll forgive you for your excesses
about the time you turn 60 and then get all weepy-eyed over
the good ol' days and let you come back and do some ABC
80's reunion show with Dick Clark, who himself will be 1004
years old. Until then, why don't you go back to the ranch,
be like that other cartoon character Elmer Fudd, and be
"vewy vewy qwiet."