I was reading last night. My lady says, "Did you know one of Michael Jackson's kids is named 'Blanket'?" Wait a second. Hold the phone. "Blanket?" I ask. "Uh-huh."

I drop my book and sit next to her on the couch. I start watching the 20/20 special.

Holy shit. The dude is fucking spent. I mean SPENT. Psychiatrists should study him. No, I really don't believe he is a pedophile. I believe his brain stopped functioning properly at age 6. I believe manic depression was misdiagnosed as that age-old assessment: Weirdness.

It is WAY beyond weird, mangs. The masks? The veils? HOLY SHIT!

Dwiezel Zappa? Lisa Marie Presley? The Lindbergh baby? Never mind them. I can't WAIT to see how odd Jackson's three kids grow up to be. I assure you, it's going to be very amusing. I would almost guarantee that one of them will be the first human to perfect time travel.

I'm in no position to judge how someone lives. And I'm not doing that. I am simply intrigued. I would give everything I own to spend six months with Michael Jackson. No other celebrity is NEARLY as interesting.