Don’t stop till you get enough!

Michael Jackson was the king of pap

Michael Jackson, the late

Don’t you love those complete strangers who reach out of the blue to send you hate mail and then follow it up with more hate mail saying they are SO DONE talking to you and then, when you don’t reply, send you even more hate mail about how they are LIKE TOTALLY NOT TALKING TO YOU NOPE NOT TO YOU NOT EVER AGAIN THEY ARE SO DONE WITH THAT. And then they send you one more to make sure you got the message, and then they block you.

What is it about Michael Jackson, exactly, that attracts a vast over-representation of the touchy and hyperbolic to his fandom? And don’t try to tell me about his many non-touchy, non-hyperbolic fans; I am talking about the vast army of gibbering, defensive nutters that orbit him like the rings of Saturn. If I could, I’d prescribe them a double dosage of Buddha Mind, but they’d probably wig out from the sudden mental detox.

Apparently something on Blogtalk Radio is set to tear  me, personally, a new asshole on Friday the 16th. Apparently I’m part of some media conspiracy (I can only say that the pay is terrible) to destroy MJ. Honestly, Jackson himself doesn’t interest me; it’s always been the fans. Why? Because they are the extreme cases of fandom, and if you want to learn about the Celebrity-Industrial Complex, you have to look at the fans. They are what it’s about, and the wingnutty ones are particularly fascinating, the way any pathology is fascinating.

The PR campaign didn’t have quite the effect intended: instead of causing a flood of comments to any of my blogs, it has resulted in a grand total of two nasty Facebook message strings, both from Australians. I guess there’s not much to do in Australia this time of year.

Tegan Ellis Facebook hate mail

Tegan Ellis is SO not talking to me. Over and over.

If you can’t read that, click here to open a bigger version.

Lindy Bartter is also not talking to me

Lindy Bartter is also not talking to me, but in worse English

Tegan lists her interests as Animals, Friendship, Equality, Compassion, Peace, Honesty, Intellectual Conversations, Rainbows, Horse Riding, and her favorite band is…

Nickelback.

The fans, they write themselves!

the jokes they write themselves

the jokes they write themselves, sometimes to Facebook

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Operation Global Media Domination: The Michael Jackson Situation

Wacko Jacko Heart AttackoI can’t say I didn’t know what I was getting into. I was getting into something like a cross between a rabid wolverine in a disco and the battle of Ypres. That I got out alive surprises everyone, including the Michael Jackson fan who repeatedly threatened me with a visitation from the undead Zombie Michael Jackson. Why?

Here’s why:

Yes, he made some terrific songs. He could dance up a storm. He was a fantastic entertainer, one of the greatest. And overcame a background of terrible abuse to become his own man and direct his own course.

But the truth is, he gave children as young as eight or nine alcohol without their knowledge, slept with little boys, and bought off or threatened the parents into silence. Something about this makes me uncomfortable describing his death as a loss.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that in the universe of fandom there are no fans as wacko as Jacko’s (which reminds me of Guido’s brilliant headline announcing the death: Wacko Jacko Heart Attacko) not even Apple fanboys or Twihards. So it wasn’t unexpected.

But it was ugly.

First of all, I’d like to thank the over 100 people who hate my guts and yet posted my article to their Facebook walls. You will always have the enduring gratitude of Operation Global Media Domination. And to the 27 or so who tweeted the link, again, you have my sincere appreciation. Plus the 30 or so new Twitter followers that resulted.

This is sort of what Obi Wan meant when he said “If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine,” which is particularly appropriate in this case, as I rather doubt any of them have much imagination. And the 34 commenters; you have a special place in my heart. Where I can keep an eye on you.

And then there’s what it looked like on Twitter. I suggest you click on the link and read from the bottom up, as that’s the time-line:

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Continue reading

Michael Jackson still dead: update at 11

Michael Jackson for Prostate Health Week

Michael Jackson, polarizing cultural icon, musician, actor, dancer, and child molester, has been dead exactly one year. Despite the worldwide health-focused publicity at the time of the tragic event, some people are only now waking up to “Michael Jacksonism” and realizing what critical health issues they should have addressed long ago.

Like condoms for kindergarteners.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Slashback!

It’s been quite some time since we had any decent Kirk/Spock sexual innuendo around these parts. That’s a terrible cultural drought, one which is about to get washed away in a warm bath of cheese. Ladies and gentlemen, and those readers of this blog who know you are neither and are reconciled to the fact, we present Captain James Tiberius Kirk and First Officer and Science Officer Spock in “You Spin Me Round“:

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

what did you do today, raincoaster?

Shakespeare got to get paid

Today it isn’t so much what I’ve done as what I’m going to do; I’m going to give the keynote speech tonight at the AGM for the Federation of BC Writers. I’m also going to take the opportunity to pimp out my intensive, 10-week online Blogging for Writers course that starts next week, and my June 19th Social Media Self-Promotion for Writers half-day workshop.

Dud my nails for the occasion, too! Sparkly!

Posted an announcement about my new linkblogging service for celebrity/gossip or fashion blogs:

$100 a month gets you a list of links three times a week, minimum 10 links to different blogs. More links, or more frequently, more money, obviously. Every blog that buys into the monthly link service is automatically included in the links, of course, and the more blogs that buy the service the more powerful in terms of Googlejuice and visibility each link will be. Completely custom link lists are also available, but if I’m going to spend two hours looking for links already day in and day out, you’re gonna hafta make it worth my while. Send Viggo with cash.

I also blogged:

Dropped a couple of quite pointed comments, even for me:

  • On Gawker, about Starbucks watering down its high-class image:
    Starbucks hasn’t been dedicated to high-end coffee at the expense of market share for about…lemme count on my fingers…oops, have to take off my shoes and socks too… twelve years. I was working there at the time, and you could feel the “shareholder-driven focus” seep through the stores like the nauseating vapours from an open grave. They still have good coffee, but that’s only because they want to keep the people they hooked with it, like me. They also pander to people with terrible, soy-creme-mocha-chippichino taste, because they roam the cities and towns of this world like lumbering herds of calorie-addicted ATMs.
  • On Ann Hathaway’s loser boyfriend (not that one, the new one) ripping down part of a mural, perhaps because he thought it was a Banksy:
    I like to think that the idiots who tear down/paint over Banksy works spend an eternity in a unique circle of Hell where they are viciously butt-raped by LeRoy Neiman and Thomas Kinkade. [banksystreetart]

Answered about 20 questions in the Support forum.

Threw about 12 items on the Tumblr for possible later use.

Outlined the Vancouver Social Media Club event on the 27th, for which I hope not to be in town, actually, and emailed several places to arrange a venue. And roughed out the announcement, which cannot go out until I get the nod from the venue, UGH, even though the Straight deadline is tomorrow.

Applied to be a speaker at 140 Character Conference, a Twitter conference run by the very cool Jeff Pulver. My proposed topic is using Twitter to initiate offline action in your readers.

Took the exit survey from Northern Voice.

Grocery shopped like a fiend. The shelves at London Drugs will never be the same; seriously, if you’re flexible, buying food from drugstores in the middle of the night can save you shitloads, because they’ve always got SOMETHING they’re trying desperately to get rid of, less than half-price. I’m eating packaged, microwaveable Indian vegetarian meals and canned fish for the next three weeks, it would seem.

Realized the Shebeen Club is NEXT FREAKING MONDAY which means all the invites have to go out via social media tomorrow, and we’ll miss the papers. This is what I get for booking a speaker who promptly takes off for Malaysia. “Pull a topic out your ass” night it is then! Thank god it’s Zombie Awareness month.

Noted that my first post on Sami Salo’s testicles has 666 hits. Hmmm. Does that mean he’s cursed? Or that the devil loves to read interviews with social media gonads?

Bitched endlessly on Twitter about the two drunken hipster chicks who sat in our doorway so they could loudly conduct a “private” conversation. If it had been more interesting than “Oh my god I totally don’t wanna be your friend when you’re like this! I’m not like this? I mean, I’m like this now, but I’m totally not, like, LIKE this, you know?” I’d have liveblogged it. Must. Get. Webcam. “ZOMBIE HIPSTERS OF VANGROOVER” sure to be a Youtube smash!

Neglected (once again) to blog the fantastic Bombay Sapphire event I went to Monday. Oh well, so far I’ve posted it on Twitter 12 times and that’s 12×5500 readers, so I’m sure they’re okay with me taking my sweet time.

Somewhere in all this I went for an hour-long walk around my neighborhood, which is always a rewarding experience, particularly when I run into the kitten I rescued on Christmas Eve a few years ago, all grown up and haughty. And get to chat with the cute guy who works at Union Market. Suddenly, yeah, I LOVE talking about the weather.

Decided on the spur of the moment to do the Shebeen Club press release right now…see ya l8r!