I wasn't sure what to think when I saw the title but I think this article belongs HERE....
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/sathnam_sanghera/article6134347.ece?openComment=true
From The TimesApril 21, 2009
Your show will be bad, ***** - you know it
High wire stunts by David Copperfield and a warm-up routine from Shane Richie?Sathnam Sanghera
You may have heard at the weekend that Wolverhampton Wanderers have been promoted from the Coca-Cola Championship to the Barclays Premier League. I'm not a devoted fan - I follow them from a distance, in the same way that I keep up with developments in Afghanistan - but I am into music, and it has struck me from listening to Wolves supporters that football fandom and pop fandom have a great deal in common.
The willingness, for instance, to spend ridiculous amounts of money to see the objects of your affection perform live. The belief, despite all evidence to the contrary, that those performing are geniuses. And, most, profoundly, the inability to alter how you feel. You can change your spouse, your nationality, your religion, even develop taste and sophistication, but you are stuck with your favourite artists in the way you are stuck with your team. And this painful truth is perhaps most dramatically demonstrated with Michael Jackson.
No artist in history has so tested the nerve of his fans, what with the reports of sleeping in oxygen tanks, the hanging of babies over hotel balconies, and the rumours of MRSA, painkiller addiction, extensive plastic surgery, stage fright, skin whitening, paranoia, and sleeping with children. If he were a football team, he'd be one that defeated Real Madrid in the Champions League, but then crashed down into Sunday League oblivion. And yet more than a million of us have bought tickets to see him play live.
My brother and I are among them. We've seen him play before, but the man's a legend, with a back catalogue second only to the Beatles', 750 million record sales, 13 Grammys and at least four noses. Not going would be like not going to see Elvis play for the last time. But with the first date now a matter of weeks away, it strikes me that there's another way in which football and pop fandom are alike: the anxiety far outweighs the excitement.
Wolves have had an amazing season, but their fans have watched their team in the way in which many of us followed President Obama's inauguration: through our fingers, unable to enjoy the moment because we thought he was going to get shot dead. Listening to them before, during and after games, you would have thought they were heading for demotion.
And it's the same with *****'s concerts, something that his people clearly understand, which is why they have gone out of their way to allay concerns, choosing the best music venue in the world for his return (the Chuckle Brothers could play the O2 and you'd want to go), confirming “he will sing” (and not lipsynch), and as you would find with any star striker, providing endless assurances about his health. We have been told that ***** “was put through a whole battery of tests; stress, treadmill, electrocardiogram, blood work and he passed them all”, with the promoter even adding: “The flesh-eating disease (is) simply not true.”
But this still leaves a great deal to fret about. Leaving aside the shambolic announcement of the live dates, which mainly consisted of ***** flicking a few V for victory signs, and repeating “This is it” while punching the air, and the fact that at his last public performance at the 2006 World Music Awards he struggled to get out a few bars of We Are The World, almost every detail that has so far been published about the format of the concerts has been discouraging.
The Daily Mirror, for instance, has reported that “Michael Jackson will be taken to his shows at the O2 Arena by boat”, because he has a fear of being driven “in public places”. Which raises the question: what on earth is a man with a fear of public places doing agreeing to perform in front of a million people?
We have also been informed by an English-language paper in Asia that “for his upcoming series of concerts in London this summer, the 50-year-old plans to rent a country house... in the Southeast London suburbs that is close to a cluster of haunted ancient caves.” Surely one of *****'s problems is his tenuous grasp of reality, and putting him up near a 35km maze of haunted passageways in Bromley isn't the best thing for his mental state?
And then there is his warm-up act. Now, you'd think that the King of Pop would have his pick of performers. The Killers, maybe? Coldplay if they're free. But according to the Sunday Express, the act being lined up is no less than the comedian and former EastEnder Shane Richie. Apparently, Richie, “who played loveable rogue Alfie Moon in EastEnders and is currently playing Archie Daley, the nephew of Arthur, in the revamped Minder series on Channel Five”, is working on “a new-style act to get the crowds in the mood for Jackson's stage performance”. Unless this new act involves transforming himself into U2, I can't help but worry. I pray that the story is just wishful thinking on behalf of Richie's agent.
Even more distressing are reports that ***** “wants to use some technical effects that have never been seen before”, and that the magician David Copperfield will be masterminding a series of onstage stunts, “including high wire routines and a levitation trick” - titbits of information that raise the possibility that ***** might try to conceal a weak performance behind a barrage of special effects.
We don't want to see Disney on Ice. Frankly, we don't even care if ***** doesn't dance. He can just sit on stage in a chair and sing, if that's all he can manage. After all, it has worked for Van Morrison for decades. We just want to hear him sing Billie Jean one last time.
And it turns out that I'm not the only one who feels this way. According to reports, Lionel Richie has advised ***** “to concentrate on his vocals - because fans are more interested in hearing his hits than seeing him moonwalk.”
And here's another way in which pop and football fandom are the same: everyone thinks that they'd make a better manager.
Pretty clever hey? I know there are some cheeky statements and we can all pick out the 'errors', but I think as far as humor about Michael goes, this peice is fun.