My MJ Story 2
I used to enjoy working at Sony Music. Apart from the VP of Finance, Martin Blaksted (a buffoon who managed to wring the life blood out of the department and destroy a few peoples lives in the process), it was a nice place to work.
I was therefore upset to be made redundant.
It wasn't just the act itself, it was the manner of how I was told that bit deep.
Michael Jackson was on the UK leg of his History tour. It was the one where he left the stage at the end of the gig in a rocket-powered jumpsuit. Everyone at Sony Music had been told that they were getting a pair of free tickets to the Wembley performance. It was to be a company day out.
A month before the gig the envelopes containing the tickets were deposited on employees desks. I came back from lunch to discover that I didn't have an envelope. Aggitated, I went to see my boss, to query the ticket oversight.
His had been caught out: he hadn't expected the tickets to be delivered so early. There an envelope of tickets for me. There was an envelope with my P45 in it instead.
"I'm sorry, the industry recession has meant we are closing the video production facility with the loss of 60 jobs. Some support staff are being made redundant too... You're one of them."
Blaksted - the c*nt - was behind my selection. I saw him two years ago in Maidenhead town centre looking lost. He didn't see me and I had the opportunity to kick him from behind. I should have given him a good slap, but resisted the urge. After all, I'm not bitter. Much.
Anyway, through my tears, I managed to throw away my last ounce of honour and pride by asking my boss...
"Will I still get the Michael Jackson tickets?"
And the b*stard said "Yes"... but never sent them.
[Sometimes I dream that at the end of the gig, the rocket-powered jumpsuit develops a sudden fault and the Michael Jackson double -- it wasn't really MJ (imagine the insurance!) -- goes spiralling out of control, crashing into the evil Sony Music Finance Dept Bosses. I then step into the management breach, and like a modern-day Sir Francis Drake, steer the good record company ship through the seas of cut-throat pirates. "Haha! Hoist the Jolly Napster!"]
Thursday, February 06, 2003
My Michael Jackson Stories
As the fallout from the Living with MJ documentary continues to rain down, I thought I'd share my two MJ stories with you.
Wacko Story 1
I used to work at Sony Music, MJ's record company. In our UK finance office we had a life-sized poster of MJ, on which our Financial Controller had scrawled a fake Michael Jackson signature in permanent black marker pen. He included a little smiley face as the dot of the i of Michael -- a clever artistic touch that gave the work an aura of authenticity. It may or may not have resembled MJ's true signature, but as we never managed to get hold of a copy of his Recording Contract (to check it against), we will never know.
What was cool was how when anyone new came into the office, they would spy the framed MJ poster and remark "Wow! Was Michael here?! Did he sign that for you?". We'd always respond with a smile and a knowing wink and nod. Of course, with the host of Wombles gold disks and signed Bros photographs also adorning the walls, visitors would have had no reason not to believe it wasn't genuine.
George Bush probably has a framed Map of the World on his White House office wall, with "X marks the spot" crosses and comments like "I must have this oil" and "evil commies" written on it in black marker pen. No doubt fools -- such as visiting German and French foreign ministers -- think its the genuine article too.
Colin Powell's UN presentation was a Wombles gold disc.
As the fallout from the Living with MJ documentary continues to rain down, I thought I'd share my two MJ stories with you.
Wacko Story 1
I used to work at Sony Music, MJ's record company. In our UK finance office we had a life-sized poster of MJ, on which our Financial Controller had scrawled a fake Michael Jackson signature in permanent black marker pen. He included a little smiley face as the dot of the i of Michael -- a clever artistic touch that gave the work an aura of authenticity. It may or may not have resembled MJ's true signature, but as we never managed to get hold of a copy of his Recording Contract (to check it against), we will never know.
What was cool was how when anyone new came into the office, they would spy the framed MJ poster and remark "Wow! Was Michael here?! Did he sign that for you?". We'd always respond with a smile and a knowing wink and nod. Of course, with the host of Wombles gold disks and signed Bros photographs also adorning the walls, visitors would have had no reason not to believe it wasn't genuine.
George Bush probably has a framed Map of the World on his White House office wall, with "X marks the spot" crosses and comments like "I must have this oil" and "evil commies" written on it in black marker pen. No doubt fools -- such as visiting German and French foreign ministers -- think its the genuine article too.
Colin Powell's UN presentation was a Wombles gold disc.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Freak Like Me
Last night's documentary on Michael Jackson was a paradox. Nothing that we saw was a shock. Comedy and tragedy.I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A broken man and lost soul. Is he harmless and child-like, or dangerous and deluded? Naive and seemingly ignorant of the real world, Michael is cocooned not just by his Neverland, but also by the minders and assistants around him. Clearly traumatised by abuse suffered at the hands of his father in childhood and adolescence, he now seems to believe his own concocted stories that his face has been disfigured not through plastic surgery, but through disease, and that it is perfectly natural for a 44 year old man to share his bedroom with 12 year old boys.
You have to fear for his children -- who he insists go out in public wearing masks -- as they are dragged through the media rugby scrums, dangled over balconies, and prevented from seeing their natural mother.
It was a freak show that will be turned into a media circus.
He needs help.
Last night's documentary on Michael Jackson was a paradox. Nothing that we saw was a shock. Comedy and tragedy.I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A broken man and lost soul. Is he harmless and child-like, or dangerous and deluded? Naive and seemingly ignorant of the real world, Michael is cocooned not just by his Neverland, but also by the minders and assistants around him. Clearly traumatised by abuse suffered at the hands of his father in childhood and adolescence, he now seems to believe his own concocted stories that his face has been disfigured not through plastic surgery, but through disease, and that it is perfectly natural for a 44 year old man to share his bedroom with 12 year old boys.
You have to fear for his children -- who he insists go out in public wearing masks -- as they are dragged through the media rugby scrums, dangled over balconies, and prevented from seeing their natural mother.
It was a freak show that will be turned into a media circus.
He needs help.
Monday, February 03, 2003
Cleric My Arse
Despite the fact that NASA irresponsibly sent them up in a twenty year old death trap, I have nothing but sympathy for the brave pilots of Columbia and their friends and families.
The Muslim "cleric" Sheikh Abu Hamza today described the loss of the space shuttle and all seven astronauts as a "sign from God". According to Hamza, the crew had been punished with death by Allah for being a "trinity of evil" -- there was an Israeli, Ilan Ramon, a Hindu Indian-born Kalpana Chawla, and Americans onboard.
I'm all for free speech and religious diversity, but Hamza is a terrorist supporter and hate-monger, and his brand of extremism has no place in British society. His recent activities at the Finsbury Park mosque unfortunately means he now gets media coverage. Thankfully most other British Muslim leaders have rallied against his comments. If I was in charge at the Home Office, Hamza would be on the next plane back to Yemen.
With his hook firmly shoved up his arse.
Its people like Hamza who make decent, law-abiding, citizens vote Conservative.
Despite the fact that NASA irresponsibly sent them up in a twenty year old death trap, I have nothing but sympathy for the brave pilots of Columbia and their friends and families.
The Muslim "cleric" Sheikh Abu Hamza today described the loss of the space shuttle and all seven astronauts as a "sign from God". According to Hamza, the crew had been punished with death by Allah for being a "trinity of evil" -- there was an Israeli, Ilan Ramon, a Hindu Indian-born Kalpana Chawla, and Americans onboard.
I'm all for free speech and religious diversity, but Hamza is a terrorist supporter and hate-monger, and his brand of extremism has no place in British society. His recent activities at the Finsbury Park mosque unfortunately means he now gets media coverage. Thankfully most other British Muslim leaders have rallied against his comments. If I was in charge at the Home Office, Hamza would be on the next plane back to Yemen.
With his hook firmly shoved up his arse.
Its people like Hamza who make decent, law-abiding, citizens vote Conservative.
