The following article originally appeared in the Huffington Post.

Michael Jackson, The Bacon Explosion, Christmas and me

Friday, February 6, 2009 permalink

Michael Jackson recently moved into my neighborhood. I'm glad. I feel lucky that I live in such a storied community. I've admired Jackson's remarkable body of work for years. I've always thought maybe the guy never got an even break.

Some of his fans are more than obsessed. Twenty-four hours a day, the loyal legions camp outside his gilded gate. Eating and sleeping in their cars, while going to the bathroom --- I don't know where. Waiting, and waiting for their dream.

I took a walk up to his house last week. Still today on the 6 of February his Christmas decorations are still up. Com'on Mike, ignore those silly throngs and get with the program.

One carload of fans from Missouri were living off liter bottles of Coca-Cola and something vulgar and vile called a "Bacon Explosion". I was told it was big in their "part of the country". Read the recipe. America's health crisis is about personal responsibility. Get off your butts America. Don't wait for the dream to come out of its lair to greet you, get off your butts and move to its music. You'll find your utopia, and you'll feel better too.