All right. I confess. I never liked Michael Jackson. Even at his height, during the 80s, I thought he was an over-rated freak. The sparkly glove, the red jacket, the permed hair, the crotch grabbing, the nasal ‘he-hee’s – I just didn’t get it. He could definitely dance (especially backwards) but his singing left me cold and his songs were either simplistic ditties about a pet rat or over-produced anthems featuring a disjointed montage of shrieks and platitudes. Continue reading
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