― Maccauley, Monday, 28 October 2002 09:09 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Miss Laura, Monday, 28 October 2002 10:22 (twenty-one years ago) link
Pose this question, if you will How'd my brother get so...shrill?Is it genes and would you botherTurning white to deny your father?
A music man from Gary, IndianaHit his kids with a rusty spannerWrenched from reality Precocious musicalityThe rod unspared in discipline's totality
Brother mine should tread with careVictims turned bullies are not so rareSpoiling kiddies with his piebald rodThe Fool is he,Not that Yankovic sod
― suzy (suzy), Monday, 28 October 2002 10:59 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Miss Laura, Monday, 28 October 2002 11:57 (twenty-one years ago) link
O Fortuna, whom the King hast spurnedCast off, it seems your wheel has turnedAnd landed us in a red-lit quarterWhere profits slump like ice to waterInstead of beating Britney SpearsHe owes us payment in arrearsSo now the choice - O, heart is sore!To go now to the breach once more?Pour funds into his holy war?Commission posters, four by four?Or double back the way we came?For though steeped in this stream of shameWhere walking on or walking backWill doubtless make us just as blackIt seems, to beat a fast retreatWill better serve our balance sheet
But hark now! Who is this young coquettishSent hither to quench the King's old fetish?
― Tim Finney (Tim Finney), Monday, 28 October 2002 12:51 (twenty-one years ago) link
SIR PAUL: Fie on thee, thy scurvy dog,The Queen art mine, mine, mine,
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 12:58 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 13:03 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Monday, 28 October 2002 13:58 (twenty-one years ago) link
(sorry)
― N. (nickdastoor), Monday, 28 October 2002 14:01 (twenty-one years ago) link
(SIR PAUL falls to the floor, seemingly paralyzed before THE KING. Enter SIR MICK, who upon seeing the tableau, cries out)
SIR MICK:I find myself in a state of incapacitation, where you my King, have placed me.
(SIR MICK falls to the floor next to SIR PAUL)
― J (Jay), Monday, 28 October 2002 14:15 (twenty-one years ago) link
KINGAye, but what perplexes me,Is the nature of thy game.(To Sir Paul)Waste not thy time, for the Queen is mine
SIR PAUL: She has but this night confidedThat I be her eternal lover.
KING:After me, she said, she will ne'er love another.Begone! Thou mak'st me want to scream.
Exeunt all except The King
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 16:23 (twenty-one years ago) link
O calumny thou hast torn my life askew!
Of trees and hungry starved there are few;
Yet I as Messiah will speak my peace,
Brave children I shall enlist, low in grease,
For minor are my misfortunes to God,
When considereth thou the wretched law of Sod,
I am the light which earth shalt illumine,
To banish hellwise bowls for Columbine.
What of the trees? What of the dying birds?
What of the children whom I mistake not for turds?
For God am I, I am namdam forsooth,
Or would be had not Randy robbed me of wisdom tooth...
Enter abruptly SIR JARVAIS OF COCKAIGNE:
SIR JARVAIS:
"Begone, false prophet, for thou durst speakest tosh!
Your pitiful pretensions are unfit e'en for nosh!
Roaches shalt never climb your quadruple-garotted walls,
As evidenced by your lack of recordings by the Falls.
For Princess Janet hath taken all thy cred,
Whilst thou indulgest in filth and sausage atop thy bed!
She now hath the trust of Courtier Beenieman
Whilst you would be fortunate to attract a 90-summers-old Exeter fan!
I embrace the future, Ladytron and Electralane,
Thou wretched sneitch, doomest e'ermore to Sir Toby Keith's pain!
He blows his bottom at THE KING and exits, stage left.
― Chas Lamb, Monday, 28 October 2002 16:43 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 16:58 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 16:59 (twenty-one years ago) link
(Curtain)
― Marcello Carlin, Monday, 28 October 2002 17:00 (twenty-one years ago) link
― anthony easton (anthony), Monday, 28 October 2002 17:04 (twenty-one years ago) link
ACT THREEThe business district of an unnamed American city with lots of buildings and signs in it that often include the words 'New Yorke.'
THE KING enters.]
THE KINGHaving thus confounded this mighty woundI must now confront the evils of this landFor my home realm now falls prey to YorkeAnd a new city raises itself in mockeryTo my plans and devices for a golden age Of glory against the forces of despiteWho would yet seek to destroy what I hold dear.What horrors are seen here among these citizens!Picks up a Village VoiceSome scribblers here proclaim the sons of YorkeTo be the bearers of deep meaning and truthA HEALEY, so-named, yet he cannot heal his soulAnd a Lord MARTIN who clearly wets his bedOr some uncouth former ally of the Sony boardOnce said in a moment of outraged passionBrought on by excess of red meat and wine.Nay nay, I must fight this idiocy sublimeFor the world will understand how I championTheir causes and dreams, their deep motives.
Enter a CITIZEN, dressed in strange and colourful garb.
Good dweller of this land! I am here to free theeFrom the horrible bonds of YORKE that have ensnaredYou and your fellow dwellers for too long.Come follow me, your rightful lord and master!
CITIZEN'Sblood, thou stinkard, remove thy prating folliesFrom this fair island that truly inhabits the centerOf the Known Universe (or so I keep hearing from othersWho have never in fact left it to live elsewhere).We have no need of thy follies anymore now that we haveA truer set of lords and masters.
THE KING But Yorke!He is no king of thine.
CITIZEN Yorke is but a chimera In these days of plenty and calm. We now worshipThe better sovereigns of a truly New Yorke -- The good lords CASABLANCAS and NELLY, and not only themBut the mighty Queen MISSY and her oft-talked frappeNot to mention Princess AGUILERA and her tantrum fitsAnd the Northern Duchess LAVIGNE, who speaks of Bois.These in fact give us the hope and reaches we needIn this time when chimpanzees pretend to rule the landFrom houses painted in white and surrounded by guards.For we must have a modern hope and not thy spewings.
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Monday, 28 October 2002 17:15 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 17:26 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 17:53 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Dan Perry (Dan Perry), Monday, 28 October 2002 18:37 (twenty-one years ago) link
― jel -- (jel), Monday, 28 October 2002 19:00 (twenty-one years ago) link
KING: What manner of monster are thee? Why hast thou daughter forsaken me in my need? My kingdom for a pie! My kingdom for a pie!
― jel -- (jel), Monday, 28 October 2002 19:07 (twenty-one years ago) link
exeunt
― J (Jay), Monday, 28 October 2002 19:35 (twenty-one years ago) link
MICHAEL'Struth, I shall rally my own musical forces, and reclaim the charts that formerly were mine! (hums a little riff that resolves into "Got to Be Startin' Somethin")
MICHAEL stops abruptly in front of a portrait of Sieur Thomas De La Mottola.
MICHAELWhy did I not see this before?DE LA MOTTOLA is the author of my woe!He underfunded my most recent campaignBecause he scorns those of the sable strain!
MICHAEL pulls out a pencil and scribbles a devil's horns and goatee on the portrait. Enter stage right the ghost of ELVIS I.
ELVISWhat? I am the one who is ectoplasmYet is my son-in-law the greater phantasm?
MICHAELHeavens! My eyes pop forth from my head!But wait just a sec--is the KING really dead?
ELVISAye, I have been dead these 25 yearsBut sometimes I do walk this earth, in tears.In Rock-and-Roll Heaven there's a hell of a bandBut never a peanut butter and banana sandwich at hand.And I will try to help a musician in strifeTo help them with this thing called life.
MICHAEL (excitedly)Who has thou visited in their house of pain?Courtney LOVE? Robert SMITH?
ELVISUh, Kurt COBAIN?But dwell not on how others did failNow, now you must haste to save your own tail.Do you remember just how I died?
MICHAELStraining on the toilet, ass open wide?
ELVISYou fool! I mean how death did me tug,By many a greasy sandwich and prescription drug.The COLONEL and DOCTOR FEELGOODE, togetherCatered to my every whim, whateversoever.If I could perform, I was their gold-laying goose.But they did not see that I was in a noose.They gave me whatever I thought I did needYet hastened me to my grave at headlong speed.You are similarly protected by flacksAnd this shield causes the strength of the attacksLaunched upon you by those critical hacks.Banish your yes-men, think for yourself;In here who truly profits from your wealth?You must face the consequences of your actionsAnd study what renders musical satisfactions.I hope you can do this; once a young boySang "We are the world," and gave the world joy.You can regain your spirit, audience, nicheNow where might a hungry ghost find a sandwich?
MICHAELTurn left, and go to the end of that hall.
ELVIS exits stage left.
MICHAELIs all that true? Can I rewin it all?
Curtain
― j.lu (j.lu), Monday, 28 October 2002 20:39 (twenty-one years ago) link
Enter some GRAVEDIGGAZ, with shovels, led by the RZA.
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Monday, 28 October 2002 21:16 (twenty-one years ago) link
SHABAZZ:I musta looked upon his poster a thousand timesMusta sung his songs and rhymed his rhymesAnd now how abhorred in my imagination it is!My gorge rims at it! What kind of sick shit isThat? Here hung those lips that I have kissed I knownot how oft -- but nobody call me faggotI'm as normal as my man Ned Raggett'To be or not to be?' Fuck itDeath comes to all, can't no man duck it
GRYM REAPER:You was the Grymmest -- where be your gibes now?Your gambols? your songs? your thrillers and goreThat were wont to set the MTV awards on a roar?Not one now, to mock your own grinning?Where be your boys, your monkeys and women?You fucked up chicken, now you just got friedIt was self-inflicted regicide
MASTA ASE:Lost was the king in his golden cageBut there was no way out of the death raceThe skull we kiss was once a faceHear the eulogy of Masta Ase!
PRINCE RAKEEM / RYZARECTOR:Yeah, more graves to dig. GoodbyeThere's no need to cry...... cause we all die
(Exeunt)
CURTAIN
― Momus (Momus), Wednesday, 30 October 2002 05:22 (twenty-one years ago) link
A flashbomb explodes and a huge bassline erupts from concealed speakers. THE FIGURE clutches its thrusting pelvic girdle, releases a bloodcurdling whoop then, powered by a tiny jetpack, shoots up to the Royal Circle box, grabs Iman from a thunderstruck David Bowie, and, dragging her behind him, soars towards a small open skylight in the roof of the theatre. The two fleeing silhouettes, visible for some minutes against a huge full moon, resemble nothing so much as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.
― Momus (Momus), Wednesday, 30 October 2002 05:50 (twenty-one years ago) link
― boxcubed (boxcubed), Wednesday, 30 October 2002 07:41 (twenty-one years ago) link
― boxcubed (boxcubed), Wednesday, 30 October 2002 07:43 (twenty-one years ago) link
Oh, the giraffe, babe, has such teeth, dearAnd it shows them pearly whiteJust a jacko has old MacWacko, babeAnd he keeps it, ah, out of sight (you know where)Ya know when that bubble bites with his teeth, babeScarlet billows start to spreadFancy glove, oh, wears old MacWack, JackSo there’s never, never a trace of red
Now on the sidewalk, huh, huh, whoo sunny morning, un huhLies a body just oozin' life, (what's that sound?)And someone’s sneakin' ‘round the cornerCould that someone be Mack the Knife?
There's a tugger, huh, huh, down by the river dontcha knowWhere a cement bag’s just a'drooppin' on down-chaOh, that cement is just, it's there for the police, dearFive'll get ya ten old Macky’s back in townNow d'ja hear ‘bout Emmanual Webster? He disappeared, babeAfter drawin' out all his hard-on lashAnd now Macwack shoots just like a sailorCould it be our boy's seen his crotch rash?
Now Brookie Shields, ho, (she was a) ho, yeah, Lizzie TaylorOoh, Miss Lisa Marie and old Britney SOh, the line forms on the right, babeNow that Macky’s back in town
I said Lisa Simpson, whoa, La Toyah's snakeLook out to Miss Aguillera and old Macauley tooYes, that line forms on the right, babeNow that Macky’s back in town.....
― macauley C, Wednesday, 30 October 2002 10:41 (twenty-one years ago) link
― Andrew (enneff), Friday, 21 November 2003 01:28 (twenty years ago) link
However, he'll get the "OJ Syndrome": celebrity gets him off
― Nichole Graham (Nichole Graham), Friday, 21 November 2003 01:33 (twenty years ago) link
ACT ONE
A sleepy provincial town on coastal waters. ENTER THE KING
THE KINGOdds bodkins! I am summoned by cold menTo answer claims and charges that I Who only ever wished to heal this grievous worldHave caused damages and harm to thoseWhom I would love in a most tender wayNot the way they would have it of course.But their damned lies will fly forth quicklyAnd then fall gasping and panting to the groundWhilst I, sculpted and shaped to transcend this sphere,Will be the long runner o'er their corpses of untruthsAs I will then be free to return to a peaceful valleyAnd complete my latest entertainment!
AN OFFICER OF THE LAND approaches
OFFICERSir, your fingerprints, and your visageWe must have images of both so thatYour whereabouts will be easily found
THE KING [outraged]All know where I can be found at any time!For I am your king and you cannot questionMy divine image of grace and beauty.
OFFICERThat is as may be, sir, but we must also haveThree million ducats and your papers of passageFor we deem you a threat of flight from our land
THE KINGInsolence! But here (withdraws items) As you demand it, there.Take them if you must, but those who know meWill know that my word is my bond
OFFICER (somewhat bored)Um, indeed sir, we would never question that.Now excuse me, please, for I have a press conference.
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Friday, 21 November 2003 01:38 (twenty years ago) link
― Trayce (trayce), Friday, 21 November 2003 01:56 (twenty years ago) link
― jed (jed_e_3), Friday, 21 November 2003 02:40 (twenty years ago) link
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Friday, 21 November 2003 15:51 (twenty years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Friday, 21 November 2003 15:59 (twenty years ago) link
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Friday, 21 November 2003 16:01 (twenty years ago) link
I thought it was young boys that got him off.
― El Diablo Robotico (Nicole), Friday, 21 November 2003 16:01 (twenty years ago) link
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Friday, 21 November 2003 16:03 (twenty years ago) link
― Chris B. Sure (Chris V), Friday, 21 November 2003 16:04 (twenty years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Friday, 21 November 2003 16:05 (twenty years ago) link
― J (Jay), Friday, 21 November 2003 17:14 (twenty years ago) link
― Jeanne Fury (Jeanne Fury), Friday, 21 November 2003 17:16 (twenty years ago) link
― A Girl Named Sam (thatgirl), Friday, 21 November 2003 17:18 (twenty years ago) link
― Jeremy the Kingfish (Kingfish), Friday, 21 November 2003 17:46 (twenty years ago) link
― Casuistry (Chris P), Friday, 21 November 2003 18:20 (twenty years ago) link
THE KINGI have been studying how I may compareThis prison where I live unto the world:And for because the world is populousAnd here is not a creature but myself,I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.The better sort,As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'dWith scruples and do set the word itselfAgainst the word:As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,'It is as hard to come as for a camelTo thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'
[grabs crotch]
Thus play I in one person many people,And none contented: sometimes am I king;Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,And so I am: then crushing penuryPersuades me I was better when a king;Then am I king'd again: and by and byThink that I am unking'd by Sneddon,And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,Nor I nor any man that but man isWith nothing shall be pleased, till he be easedWith being nothing. Music do I hear?
[Thriller motif sounds offstage; faint laughter of Vincent Price]
Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,When time is broke and no proportion kept!So is it in the music of men's lives.And here have I the daintiness of earTo cheque time broke in a disorder'd string;But for the concord of my state and timeHad not an ear to hear my true time broke.
[more offstage music; faint “the kid is not my son”]
Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it isAre clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groansShow minutes, times, and hours: but my timeRuns posting on in Sneddon's proud joy,While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.This music mads me; let it sound no more;For though it have holp madmen to their wits,In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!For 'tis a sign of love; and love to MichaelIs a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
[Blackout; offstage whisper: “who's bad?”]
― brian nemtusak (sanlazaro), Friday, 21 November 2003 21:33 (twenty years ago) link
― Ned Raggett (Ned), Friday, 21 November 2003 21:35 (twenty years ago) link
― brian nemtusak (sanlazaro), Friday, 21 November 2003 21:40 (twenty years ago) link
― Autumn Almanac (Autumn Almanac), Tuesday, 1 February 2005 03:01 (nineteen years ago) link
― James Mitchell (James Mitchell), Tuesday, 1 February 2005 03:02 (nineteen years ago) link
Enter TIMBERLAKE.
TIMBERLAKE aside:As the path of the sunne in yon skyTh'arc of Fame doth live, and doth die.Renown once held must in some wise stopI shall usurp his crown of Pop.
Once I was but a mere Boy amongst a band.My moves were freshe, but my beats, they were bland.Then a vexèd wardrobe shocked each rubeNow my Fame rests on one piercèd boob.
― The Mad Puffin, Tuesday, 1 February 2005 14:52 (nineteen years ago) link
TIMBERLAKE:as with you my liege'tis but the native hue of resolutionsicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought
THE KING:damned insolence! (aside)yet this leads nowherei shall consult my soothsayer! call geller!
enter GELLER
THE KING: is't true soothsayerthat in the movement of swallowso'erarching the cerulean firmamentthat shadowy arc which divides men from stars thou can'st divine man's fortunes?
GELLER:in nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read
THE KING: pray then, foresee my fate
GELLER:thou shalt be innocent until the army of exeterdoth topple to the rude shockof manchestrian onslaughts
THE KING: 'tis good
GELLER: till iron spoons bend and watches wake from dusty deathyour kingdom will endure
THE KINGexcellent soothsayer!
― debden, Tuesday, 1 February 2005 15:37 (nineteen years ago) link
i cry for thee, jacksonthese tears shall cleanse
THE KING:do not despair your majestie!for my plans never cease to bei now must cultivate an armyan army of leprechauns from thee!
THE KING OF IRELAND:but what ambitions and what tomfoolery a plan this could behow must you convince the Mother Of Nature to provide you with many a stormmany a rainmany a drizzlemany an interrupting Sunto allow many a rainbow for which thy must find all these pots o gold, ye pop king, dare i ask?
THE KING:begorrah!i may exist on thee plain of a pauper in these dying aching daysbut even a leper, less of that a leprechaun, hath always the gift of luck!and being blessed with immaculate charm in earlier years, yeyou generous and love of conditional, your majestie of cloversmust not deny the law above all dirt on which we lay, we walk, and we shovelit is magick, your majestie!leprechauns will bring you this majick! Me majick! The world majick!Commission a park for this army of leprechaun magick at once!
THE KING OF IRELAND:i am overwhelmed with your charm, pop king. you do never lie.to my people, nor ever again on this slag of dung!
THE KING:i shall never!
― the dow nut industrial average dead joe mama besser (donut), Thursday, 21 September 2006 20:44 (eighteen years ago) link
― Shakey Mo Collier (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 21 September 2006 20:51 (eighteen years ago) link
― J.D. (Justyn Dillingham), Thursday, 21 September 2006 22:30 (eighteen years ago) link
And so surprised as the musick hath been abridgeda lobbing of this coat of mine into a sea of admirersMine a tribute to my phalanx of this future of youngso overpowering it could not all be sung!
― gwynywdd dwnyt fyrwr byychydd gww (donut), Thursday, 16 November 2006 17:20 (seventeen years ago) link
― jhoshea megafauna (scoopsnoodle), Thursday, 16 November 2006 17:24 (seventeen years ago) link
― Shakey Mo Collier (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 16 November 2006 17:24 (seventeen years ago) link
― Matt DC (Matt DC), Thursday, 16 November 2006 17:26 (seventeen years ago) link
― Fluffy Bear Hearts Rainbows, Thursday, 29 March 2007 20:32 (seventeen years ago) link
only jackson thread that matters
― conrad, Thursday, 25 June 2009 22:50 (fifteen years ago) link
so true
― And the biggest self of self is, indeed, self (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 25 June 2009 22:52 (fifteen years ago) link
<3 this thread - hope someone steps up for the epilogue
― lex pretend, Thursday, 25 June 2009 22:55 (fifteen years ago) link
I'll make some calls.
― bad hijab (suzy), Thursday, 25 June 2009 22:57 (fifteen years ago) link
^^^to all the above
― the funk soul custos (country matters), Thursday, 25 June 2009 22:59 (fifteen years ago) link
But hush, what commotion is this? Methinks the king or someone else arrives. I'll to to the arrass, conceal myself and watch what business shall unfold!
― the pinefox, Friday, 26 June 2009 02:16 (fifteen years ago) link
ultimate fucked-up child star, move along, nothing to see here, folks
― Dr Morbius, Friday, 26 June 2009 05:27 (fifteen years ago) link
Wow.
― Cunga, Friday, 26 June 2009 05:38 (fifteen years ago) link
SIR PAULA glooming peace o'er Neverland this day.Peter Pan for sorrow will not show his head.Go hence, to have more talk of death of pop;Biographies rewritten, concerts cancelled.The Earth song will be sung in far flung lands;For never was a HIStory of more woeThan this of Michael and his Billie Jean.
― whatever, Friday, 26 June 2009 05:54 (fifteen years ago) link
http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/that-was-it-the-tragic-tale-of-our-king-michael-jackson/Event?oid=7050531
That Was It: The Tragic Tale of Our King Michael JacksonTongue firmly in cheek, playwright C.J. Tuor borrows the structure of a Greek tragedy (plus a few tricks from Shakespeare and Bertolt Brecht) to tell the King of Pop's life story. Director-choreographer Ali Keirn embellishes Tuor's extremely witty tale -- featuring a chorus that intones lyrics from Jackson hits -- with eccentric dramatic poses, overwrought modern-dance tableaux, and lots of trademark Jackson moves. But what really sells this high-energy comedy is the cast's ability to win laughs even as they lay bare the pathos in Jackson's story. Playing Jackson pre- and post-plastic surgery respectively, Tom Daily and Emily Goldberg are particularly winning. —Jack Helbig
Tongue firmly in cheek, playwright C.J. Tuor borrows the structure of a Greek tragedy (plus a few tricks from Shakespeare and Bertolt Brecht) to tell the King of Pop's life story. Director-choreographer Ali Keirn embellishes Tuor's extremely witty tale -- featuring a chorus that intones lyrics from Jackson hits -- with eccentric dramatic poses, overwrought modern-dance tableaux, and lots of trademark Jackson moves. But what really sells this high-energy comedy is the cast's ability to win laughs even as they lay bare the pathos in Jackson's story. Playing Jackson pre- and post-plastic surgery respectively, Tom Daily and Emily Goldberg are particularly winning. —Jack Helbig
― Trewster Dare (jaymc), Thursday, 9 August 2012 17:26 (twelve years ago) link