"Got your King of Pop tees!"
 
"R.I.P. Michael tees, right chere ya'll!" 

"You don't wanna miss dis!"

"I got baby tees and wife beaters in every size, you want the R.I.P. or King Of Pop?"

"This is an original art work drawing of the King of Pop!"

"Dese are glow in de dark, wit miguel on dem, solamente ventedollares!"  

As I walked, along Hollywood Blvd Saturday night I could not believe the crass commercialism that has taken over since the announcement of Michael Jackson's death.  Hucksters of every race, creed and color crowded the sidewalks with their hastily made tees.  R.I.P. signs were taped on every business,with the added offer of Jackson tacos, burgers, visors, key chains and crotch-less panties.  They swarmed around like locusts in a feeding frenzy.

It may be cliche, but true, the man's body hadn't cooled before the street corner entrepreneurs began their hustle.  They call them tributes but at20 to 25 dollar a pop, it's a hustle.  

And then there are the has- rans and one hit wonders who run toward the kliegs, pouring their hearts out about the affection and respect they had for Michael.  The same people who ridiculed him and scandalized his name on Wednesday.  The same people who wrote him off as a "weirdo, pervert,freak, plastic surgery created nightmare, aging pop has been.  "WackoJacko," they called him behind snickers. 

FOX, CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, E, VH-1, TV-LAND and every nit-Twit have scrambled to get any news out, be it real, false, ludicrous, incredible, or down right mendacious.  Reporters are camped at his "rented house" in Bel-Air, the family's home in Encino, the coroner's office in downtown L.A, Neverland Ranch in Santa Ynez and at his star in Hollywood.  Only place they haven't camped out is at his plastic surgeon's office in Beverly Hills.  No memorial there?

Michael's death may prove to be his greatest spectacle yet, if his father Joe has anything to say about it.  This morning the Jackson patriarch,accompanied by Rev. Al Sharpton, and some Motown revival acts, stood outsidethe Jackson family home and announced another of his schemes to glom off of his son.

"Me and one of da singers from da Stylisitics, one of Myka's favorite groups, we's gonna put together a record company.  It's gonna give young kids da chance ta get off da streets and use der talent da way Myka would want dem too."

"Nah, we aint got no plans on de funeral right 'bout now, we still waitin'on tings."

"His kidz dey in back dere.  We gots all kindz of little kids some close in dey age.  Debbie Rowe aint got nothin' to do 'bout dis."

If ever there were any doubts about why Michael distanced himself from his father, those doubts were laid to rest this morning. There he stood grinning and preening before the cameras.  The sparkly fedora cocked to the side,the shades, Mr. Demille he's ready for his close up.  His face illuminated by the headlights from the coroner's van added a nice ghoulish touch.  The only thing Papa Joe missed was the sequined glove.

How could any family member allow this morbid necrophilia?  Where were Jackie, Jermaine, Tito, Marlon, Randy, Janet, Rebi and even La Toya while this spectacle took place?  While mother Katherine was dealing with custody issues, Papa Joe stood before the world reveling in his recaptured fifteenminutes.  The only thing more tragic than that non-news news conference was Thursday's discovery.

It's heartbreaking to watch events unfold; the false coroner's report about the condition of the body, the fate of his non-biological kids, the resurrection of old press hags, Diane Diamond and Maureen Orth, the regurgitation of stories that are better off cremated.  Sensationalism and Michael Jackson have always gone together like a hand in a sequined glove; however, in death it appears it's not only good copy but good business. 

The death of Michael Jackson may prove to be the best boost our sagging economy could have, at least it seems that way as I sip my King of Pop latte and eat my Thriller salad.  I can't wait 'til one of Papa Joe's underprivileged youths serenades me to sleep as lie on the mattress purchased at the Michael Jackson blow out mattress sale.