Long Live the King(s)

WARNING: This post contains graphic images of bird poo and celebrity underpants.  If you are a child or are pregnant, you may want to leave the room before reading.

With all the recent hubbub about war, pestilence, and “Death to America” you have no doubt been glued to your television sets and inundated with news of Princess Kate. I have therefore taken it upon myself to inform you that other things in the world are indeed happening that have no affect on your life whatsoever.  Thankfully there are hard-hitting news organizations like this one that feel compelled to report them anyway.

Most important to disregard is the big story out of Chicago this week — not the one about selfless, high-quality yet underpaid teachers striking against those stingy private-sector taxpayers — I’m talking about the one in which it is claimed that the image of Michael Jackson has gloriously appeared in a rather sizeable and well-aimed bird dropping.

The image is obviously after the first chin-cleft surgery but before the fourth rhinoplasty. Photo credit to Brandon Tudor and the Chicago Sun-Times

Now before you start making light of this story and have distasteful irreverent fun by referring to the poopy image with terms such as “B-MJ“ or the “King of Plop,” let me inform you that I have already exhausted all such possibilities and every one is either Bad, Dangerous, or Off the Wall.

A man by the name of Brandon Tudor (no relation) said that the miraculous bird-bomb landed on the windshield of his Cadillac as he was traveling innocently down US30 and that the emergent image of Jackson became obvious “after it hardened.” Being a patriotic American and Wanna Be Startin‘ Somethin‘, Tudor immediately sought riches by placing the windshield on eBay. Obviously familiar with the ABC’s of capitalism, in a moment of zen-like clarity Tudor foretold his own future when he remarked, “One of two things will happen: It will go for an astronomical amount or I’ll get nothing.”

Mr. Tudor also snapped a photo of the sizable doodie (see above) and, holding steadfast to his faith in the repeatedly proven fact that Americans will buy anything, will seek to make HIStory by selling the Black or White image on hats and T-shirts.  It’s enough to make one Scream — or at least Say, Say, Say to Mr. Tudor, “Beat it.”

And speaking of poo and music royalty…

The used, soiled underpants of Elvis Presley went on the auction block last week in England and — get this — failed to sell. They are reportedly the very generously proportioned unwashed skivvies he wore under his fabled white jumpsuit during a concert ‘short’ly before his death in 1977. Visual inspection of the tighty-whities (that are actually a very stylish Moody Blue hereafter unmentioned since ‘Moody Blue’ does not rhyme with ‘tighty‘) reveals that they are from a period when Elvis’ career was yellowing and his life was skidding out of control.

These are the very underpants in question. It turns out all those controversial hip thrusts were merely a comfort issue. Photo credit to Rollingstone.com

The auction house was hoping to fetch about 10,000 pounds for the garment, which judging by its size was the approximate weight of its owner. The memorabilic gem is of course professionally framed and suitable for displaying proudly in in any public venue where nausea is not an immediate concern. Even so, they failed to reach the reserve price with the highest bid coming in about $3000 below MSRP, prompting the Obama administration to introduce a ‘cash for knickers’ program.

Oddly enough, this is not the first time the shorts came up short. They also failed to reach the set reserve price on eBay this summer, making one ‘brief’ly wonder whether anybody really wants them or not, even though they were worn by such an incontinent — I mean intercontinental — music superstar.

Imagine the stigma of no one wanting your soiled underwear.  If Elvis were dead he’d roll over in his grave.

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