And It Cuts Like a Knife.

I’m still a little shaken up about the Michael Jackson news. What the hell is going on? First Farah, now Jacko? It just doesn’t seem fair. Have to admit, I thought he died five years ago. But then, I was convinced for years that Jimmy Carter was dead (long story). Anyway, it’s only proper that we pour out some liquor tonight and share a few Jacko stories. He would be proud and awkward and probably a little misty. Here it goes:

1981—I shake up a boring field trip with a flawless moonwalk in front of my Social Studies teacher who quickly rings me up with a two-day detention.

1984—In what can only be described as a prescient moment, I light my hair on fire during recess while trying to recreate Jacko’s infamous Pepsi commercial. Years later I help win the Coke business at Wieden and clip off a lock of my greasy mane in honor of Jacko.

1985—While on a date with Catherine Wendell I get mocked by some meathead senior for wearing a Jacko glove. Undeterred, I slip my bejeweled hand around Catherine’s neck and whisper in her ear, “You’re a PYT.” She melts like tuna.

1986—I lead a classroom of 40 stoned juniors in a subversive rendition of Thriller (which those punk inmates in Thailand totally ripped off). My teacher at the time, Mrs. Elzey (who happens to be my mom), tries to join in the fun but is rebuffed by her angry teenage son and quickly loses control of the classroom. Another two-day detention follows.