On This Day in History: November 30
Michael Jackson's "Thriller" is released
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Today’s history post is about two things. The first thing is the best-selling album in history, which was released worldwide on November 30, 1982. The other is about the artist, and how he was a fucking pedophile.
--On This Day in History, Shit Went Down: November 30, 1982--
Back in Black by AC/DC is #2 on the list, with 50 million copies sold. Michael Jackson’s Thriller beat those sales by an additional 20 million. I was 14 when Thriller came out; it was a big fucking deal. There were zombie dance offs and moon walking and Eddie Van Halen playing guitar on that song that wasn’t actually about masturbation and no fucking way did he sleep with Billie Jean. Billie Jean was the wrong gender and age for Michael anyway.
It was a great album, and it’s forever tainted by Jackson being horrible. I generally try to separate the artist from their art, because lots of writers and musicians and actors have dark pasts and I’m privileged as fuck for not having a traumatic upbringing, so I don’t get triggered by most of it. But this story is just so full of ick that even my untraumatized ass wants to change the station when Jackson comes on. Continues below …
Don’t change this station just because I’m always asking for money, please. Click the green button.
Yes, he went on trial in 2005, and yes, he was found “not guilty.” Guilty verdicts in sex abuse crimes are difficult to come by. But there are numerous accusers, and tens of millions of dollars were paid out to various families. It’s proven that Jackson spent every night for at least a month sleeping in the same bed as Jordie Chandler, then a 13-year-old boy. Five boys he shared beds with accused Jackson of abuse. Chandler described skin discolorations on Jackson’s penis. The pop star’s penis was later photographed, and the description matched.
What’s more, Jackson had a suitcase full of hardcore and bondage porn images next to his bed. Investigators found the boys’ fingerprints on the material alongside Jackson’s prints on various pages. Jackson admitted to sharing a bed with boys and proclaimed there was nothing wrong with it.
The abused children later said it didn’t feel like abuse at the time because he didn’t behave as a controlling monster, but rather a best friend. “Michael Jackson was one of the kindest, most loving people I knew,” Wade Robson said, adding, “He also sexually abused me for seven years.” He described Jackson as being “like a god.” A god who forced a seven-year-old boy to perform oral sex on him. Staff members at Jackson’s Neverland Ranch backed up the stories of sex abuse.
But kick ass music, right? I get it if you still want to listen to him. That’s your call. Hell, I still like the writing of author David Eddings even though he and his wife served a year in prison for abusing their adopted children. If you want to fling all your Michael Jackson albums into an active volcano, that’s cool. If you still want to listen to him, understand why others may not want to.
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If anyone were to make a list of all their favourite musicians, artists, writers, dancers, poets, scientists etc. and took a deep dive into all their pasts, I'm pretty certain they would find lots of examples of really horrible people. Tesla was a eugenicist. Chaplin had a thing for young girls. Wolfe (as in Virginia - women can be awful too!) was a hardcore elitist - meaning she believed that education was wasted on the poor. My favourite author H.P. Lovecraft was pathologically racist. Whether you choose or not to shun their work, you should at least be honest with yourself about who that person was. Believe people when they tell you about sexual abuse - the vast majority are not making this shit up. Call out bigots and abusers, liars and science-deniers.
Let me tell you a story about a painting. It's titled The Straw Hat. I fell in love with it many years ago. It came to symbolise much of what living in the North of Western Australia means to me. Its theme is quintessential Exmouth. I loved it so much that on a low wage I saved for a limited edition, autographed print. I saved further to have it framed perfectly and proudly displayed it in my dining room. I wanted to know if the artist felt the same as I did about the image he created, whether it conjured all the same feelings of pride and sentimental attachment to this place as it did for me. He is a Western Australian artist after all. His name is Rolf Harris.
That was one of the more difficult sacred cow slaughters I had to come to terms with. Filthy, fucking, rubbish, paedo human. All those women and girls he abused. I'd like to say there's a special place in hell, perhaps even a worse one, for people like him, but I'm not religious and he isn't even worthy as fertiliser.