Who Is It: An Appreciation #Dangerous25 by DoggoneCity

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We wholeheartedly urge all MJ Global family members to take the time necessary in reading this  eloquent description of Michael Jackson’s “Who Is It?” as set forth by Doggone City – the Appreciation is almost as glorious as Michael’s musical composition itself.

Below is the complete text of Twitlonger from @DoggoneCity  dated November 26, 2016 and link to original post is provided below.

James Brown, Prince, and Michael Jackson are the masters of rhythm in our time. And rhythm being nothing but eroticism set to time, their music, whatever its subject, has the effect of an aphrodisiac.

James Brown is the troubadour of gospel call-and-response that he made irresistibly combustible with his vocal inflections. Prince is the bacchanalian genius who revels in virtuosic experimentation and histrionic abandon. With Michael Jackson one finds something elusive and illusive. He can be feral like James Brown on his propulsive night train or devilishly insouciant like Prince in his scandalous love suite. But at its greatest, Michael Jackson’s music has something else, the quality of hallucination. His most compelling stories in sound, whether about extortion (Billie Jean), rape (Smooth Criminal), prostitution (Who is It), exile (Stranger in Moscow), or addiction (Morphine) have a spectral grace, suspended in animation, dream-like, as in a mosaic. His concerts are essays in movement but also stillness, mysteriously hieratic, full of long poses and shifting choreographic tableaux punctuated by stops and silences. His videos abound in echoes, shadows, reflections, and transformations. Echoes reverberate across his songs as much as silhouettes do on his stage, across the taut bridge of Smooth Criminal, the lone synth on the spoken passages of In the Closet, the swirling vocal layering on Why You Wanna Trip on Me, the melancholic keyboard bridge in Stranger in Moscow, and the wistful whistles in Whatever Happens.

Who is It is a different kind of hallucination. That haunting intro with those soprano voices dying with a dying fall, like a dim breeze across a vast urban desert, harks back to the descending string punctuations of Billie Jean. And echoes permeate that famous Who Is It beat too. That cracked-heartbeat of a percussion that is on the face of it, a slowed-down homage to James Brown’s ‘I Got the Feeling’. But he uses that queue from James Brown only as a point of departure to create an alchemy of rhythm. Critics were puzzled and disoriented by the beats on Dangerous, one calling them “abrasively unpredictable”, and another “like computerised artificial respiration”. But that’s the point. The cracked-heartbeat of a percussion in Who Is It rises and falls in unpredictable patterns; the vocal hiccups both echo and syncopate the thudding drum machine and Louis Johnson’s bass in a ménage of cardiac gasps, retches, and shocks. What sound like three-note rhythmic motifs that echo the melismatic sighs in the soprano intro, are basically only two notes pounded alternatively and insistently in duple time, creating a rhythmic ambiguity, like a sort of dirge-like boogie throbbing precariously inside “one dying head”. It’s a masterpiece of invention, and why his beats are endlessly studied by contemporary producers. Take that gulping sob peppered throughout that syncs exactly with the beat – surely the funkiest crying ever recorded?’

He often said he preferred making his own sounds to using sounds from keyboards or programmed machines. The result being his beats have the heft of something organic, with the urgent restlessness of human breath rather than mechanised static (although he could do that too, in Morphine) even when borne on beds of drum machines. Also why I think he broke away from Quincy Jones. He wanted to channel back to the funk of a forty thousand years—the circular, repetitiveness of the vamp in Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough, the looping grooves of James Brown. One only need think of the molten bed of percussion in Can’t Let Her Get Away.

Much as MJ’s music is an invitation to dance, it also has an element of melancholy all his own. These shadows clothe his arrangements in a mystery, not unlike the sfumato in an Old Master painting, all smoky shadows, ambiguous modeling, shifting smiles. The suppleness of his percussion allows him to combine that icy Who Is It intro and ‘abrasive’ percussion with the most sinuous strings, which come at you in waves, circling but never resolving. And there’re the seamless transitions from intro-verse-bridge-chorus-outro-fade-out. His vocal delivery too is full of light and shadow, his voice smooth, imploring, caressing one moment, and then breaking out in harsh, coiled, turgid accents. It’s a method he started perfecting long ago in ‘Maria’.

That Who is It chorus is like a gospel incantation, a melody going on into infinity, like the soldiers under a twilight sun in This is It. It has the same harmonic profile as the throbbing rhythmic pattern of the beat; but the moment it seems like it is resolving, he destabilises it with the persistent ‘Who Is It?’, the question-and-answer of gospel—only that here it is several Michaels in a dialogue and self and soul, questions echoed with questions, as in a hall of mirrors, or as what Jon Pareles called ‘an electronic wilderness’. When the instrumental bridge comes in, it takes up the soprano theme of the intro, and then improvises it on the synth with the same echoing effect heard throughout, probing, questioning, rippling, and fading through an unending night, and engaging the strings as in a vast antiphonal choir in a church full of mosaics.

This mosaic-like quality of Who Is It is well-captured in David Fincher’s plush video with its purple shadows where surfaces reflect and refract, a world of smoky decadence, more urban and more desolate than the degenerate juke-joint of Smooth Criminal. When you think of it, mystery permeates so many of his videos and concerts. The man made an art out of disappearing, as if enacting the alchemy of rhythm through his body itself. Only through artifice he comes alive; his conceptions, always grand and operatic, are ringed everywhere by illusion: silhouettes, shadows, and mirrors. He vanishes into sand, shadows, smoke, mist, fire, leaping in, flying out. Never wanting to be chained to earth.

Who is It is a kind of cross-roads in his career, combining as it does his rhythmic invention and melodic sensibility. Henceforth, with some exceptions, there’s a dividing line between his jams and his ballads. The jams will be seething, with swaggering verses, clenched-teeth choruses acerbic, wrought-iron beds of percussion and arrangements, all rhythm, with his voice sounding as if on the rack; and the ballads all melody, simpler, sweeter and more soaring.

The worst of showbiz always brings out the best in him, transmuting tales of treachery and feelings of disgust and loneliness into lusciousness that ravishes the ear. Always makes me think of what Alan Light said, “Michael Jackson’s finest song and dance is always sexually charged, tense, coiled – he is at his most gripping when he really is dangerous.”

Source: Link to original Twitter post 

Michael Jackson’s Short film Who Is It

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When LOVE creates MIRACLES

When God uses a mortal to HEAL – it’s a glorious celebration of divinity- Michael Jackson was a Chosen One.

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This week I thought about miracles. What is a miracle?

**miracle  mir·a·cle **

An event that appears inexplicable by the laws of nature and so is held to be supernatural in origin or an act of God

So if the definition above is right, a miracle is something that has no explanation, at least no explanation that would be “normal”. But then: What is normal, right?

I believe that whenever faith in LOVE, which for me is the same than faith in GOD, is deeply felt and unwavering , this faith is going to manifest itself into our so called reality. What appears to us as a miracle is simply LOVE, felt so unconditionally and pure, that it generates vibrations with effects into our reality.Like raindrops, which, when they fall into a pond generate movement on the water. I don`t know how many of you would agree…

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Tribute to Michael Jackson Part of Opening of African American Museum in Washington D.C.

Geoff Edgers of the Washington Post has written an electric review of the opening of our National Museum of African American History & Culture-  This is a defining moment in our nation as the struggle for parity within race relations and legal authorities is at all time fever pitch.  The Black Lives Matter movement highlights much needed reform in how to police in a nation where just being black  is considered a threat.  Michael Jackson fans know all to well that his messages of Unity, Brotherhood and respect for the children of all cultures was of paramount importance and integral to his art. We are proud that Michael Jackson’s  costume is part of this National Museum.  Please click link at bottom to read full Washington Post article.

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James Brown, Marian Anderson, the Duke and Lena Horne. They weren’t there physically Friday night at the Kennedy Center, but their presence was undeniable during a star-studded concert marking this weekend’s opening of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

“I should say good evening, everyone,” said Oprah Winfrey, who donated $21 million for the museum, after President Obama and first lady Michelle Obama took their seats in the balcony of the Eisenhower Theater. “But what I’d really like to say is hallelujah.”

If the concert — recorded for future broadcast on ABC — set the tone for this weekend’s events, it did so by honoring a stunning artistic legacy without glossing over the painful road that’s been central to the African American experience.

“You don’t want to be so happy, you don’t want to be so sad but you do want to celebrate,” said Jacqueline Washington, the daughter of a pioneering federal judge, Aubrey E. Robinson Jr.

Washington sat in the last row next to her Howard University classmate Debbie Allen, the choreographer and actress. But they weren’t complaining about the view.

“Every seat is a front-row seat,” Allen said. “That’s what this is tonight. Being in the room. When we were at the inauguration of Barack Obama, it was that you were there.”

“Taking The Stage: Changing America” wasn’t just a concert. Musicians were often introduced along with photos of the museum artifacts related to their performances, including: a pair of slave shackles; Louis Armstrong’s horn; and the silk and black velvet dress Marian Anderson wore for her Easter concert in 1939, when she performed on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial after having been shut out of Constitution Hall by the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Actress Angela Bassett spoke of how segregation hurt artists such as Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan and Horne.

“They were born too early to be the bigger stars they might have been but it doesn’t diminish what they did and the legacy they left,” she said. “Singing, it wasn’t the same after them. Nor were the audiences that heard them.”

Read full Washington Post article — 

Source: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2016/09/24/direct-dramatic-concert-marks-pain-and-promise-of-road-to-african-american-museum/

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Liza Minelli – re: Michael Jackson

Ellen:I just think that as someone who is a really huge fan of Michael Jackson, I never had a chance to meet him and I’m sorry that I didn’t but know you were close friends with him but, just as a fan watching that trial, it was heartbreaking, are you watching it or trying hard not to watch it?

Liza:I watched some of it and then when it becomes “showbiz” I think, “Come on, everybody’s trying to make money”, they are just making money off him again, you know?

Ellen:Yeah.

Liza:That kid really never had a life without someone saying “you know we can make money off of this Michael”. I think.

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Ellen:Yeah. When you knew him did you see.. I mean that must be hard to see that, because you must have experienced that yourself, everybody wanting to make money off you, did you..?

Liza:No I didn’t. I was so lucky because in Hollywood, I didn’t care anything about it. I wanted to go to New York, so I went by myself. I was lucky enough to not have anyone on me like that. I made furniture for shows, I did anything, but with Michael it’s .. when I first met Michael, he was a kid you know, and as he grew up, he was funny… he was so funny.

Ellen:I heard he was funny.

Liza:and he was interested in everything. He loved my dad and so I used to take him over to visit my dad and he would have dinner with Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, and the Gregory Peck(s) and all these people. He was like a sponge for information and a wonderful conversationalist, really, but then he had to go back to whatever he had to go back to and it just went wrong and who knows what happened.

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Ellen:Yeah. How long before he died had you seen him?

Liza:Oh boy, I think the last time I saw him was 2000. I was on his show (smiling)

Ellen:On his show:

Liza:One of his shows that he did?

Ellen:While he was touring?

Liza:A special, one of his specials for TV.

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Ellen:That special that he was going to do looked like it was going to be amazing, that he was planning for.

Liza:Yeah, see he worked liked nobody else. We would go to Martha Graham, because I knew Martha Graham because I was in one of her ballets. So we would go over there and we would sit in the corner, the two of us and we would watch and then everybody would break and we would run into the other room and try and remember what we had seen.

Ellen:Wow!

Liza:And we would do it! It was fun.

Ellen:I would love to see those tapes. That’s amazing. Incredible!

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Much love and appreciation for our dedicated transcriptionist – 💞

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A Call To Arms UK MJ Fans… The Felon is set to be on a UK Reality Show!

We are asking you to write, tweet, and make phone calls to stop this murderer from appearing on this show

Stop Global Airwave Abuse

A call to arms to all our UK MJ Fam and fans from across the world.   Conrad Murray The Murderer has come out of the woodwork and is set to appear on “I’m A celebrity, get me out of here!” in the UK. The felon will be compensated for being on this show you can be sure and his “celebrity” status is purely based on the fact that he murdered the most famous man on the planet, Michael Jackson.Screen Shot 2016-07-24 at 3.49.36 PM

He will receive blood money from his new book about Michael and from his appearances on television promoting this fictitious book full of disgusting lies. His new publicist and manager Australian Max Markson, is  being glib in his conversations about the felon’s book and this TV show.  He is being promoted not only the UK, but around the world.  This murderer also wants to get his Physician’s license back, please read MJ Justice P’roject’s post

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MJGlobal – Campaign to Contact Medical Boards RE: Prevent Conrad Murray’s Medical License Reinstatement

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Conrad Muray has raised his ugly lying head again-  this time with the support of the media in Australia –  Yep .. No surprise there.

It’s a given he’d get support from the down under media, – which prides itself in the lowest common denominator, sensationalism for “Inquiring Minds”  There is a distinct relationship between Rubert Murdoch, Dylan Howard and of course, Wade Robson.

Although most of the tabloid trash stories regarding Michael Jackson coming out of Australia are the usual incredible and easily disproved brazen lies – there is one concern.

Conrad Murray has stated he is seeking to have his Medical license(s) reinstated so he can resume practicing medicine.

Let’s recall a Judge Pastor quote

“Murray repeatedly LIED, engaged in DECEITFUL MISCONDUCT & endeavored to COVER UP his TRANSGRESSIONS.”

Conrad Murray actually had the temerity to state in interview:

“I am highly skilled and have an unblemished medical record. My career has been impeccable.”

To get his medical license back, Murray is trying to assert that Michael Jackson killed himself by administering drugs to himself. He wishes to rewrite history,  but this ridiculous assertion did not hold under evidence and deliberance in court.

“During Murray’s six week trial, the prosecution – LA deputy district attorneys David Walgren and Deborah Brazil – successfully exposed the defenses’ theory that Jackson had either self-administered propofol and/or ingested drugs without Murray knowing – as baseless” 

For more detailed information of Murray’s 2011 trial – California vs Conrad Murray

To imagine Conrad Murray would be given any kind of support by ANY media is truly a sad demonstration that money has been and will always be the driving force behind tabloidesque media groups- but alas, it is current state of media as we know it.

Through these interviews he clearly demonstrats, he still has no remorse for killing another human being. NONE

His callous disregard for Michael Jackson’s children, who through his actions, left them orphaned doesn’t concern him.

He doesn’t consider the jury finding him solely responsible for Michael Jackson’s death to be of any concern  or relevant.-

He believes he is above HIPAA laws which are enforced to protect the medical history of patients and are enforced even if the person is deceased for 50 years after their death.

In 2013, Murray was served a “cease and desist” by the Estate of Michael Jackson when he began interviewing and talking about Michael Jackson, and to avoid this push back,  he’s gone outside the United States to evade HIPAA violations concerns.

Since Conrad Murray has expressed a desire to request Medical Boards to reinstate his license – We urge the MJGlobal family to take a few moments to call, email or send ground letters to the three entities who control Murray’s future.

In no way should Conrad Murray  be allowed to practice medicine and put another human being’s life at risk by his total disregard for standard medical practices.

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We encourage a relisten of Judge Pastor’s full admonishment to Conrad Murray at his sentencing in 2011-

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Please use the information below.. If any of this information is lacking or other information needs to be added – Please do not hesitate to alert MJJJP in the comment section.

Texas Medical Board:                                                                                                                           P.O. Box 2018 Austin, TX 78768-2018
e-mail: verifcic@tmb.state.tx.us
Main Phone: (512) 305-7010
Customer Service Phone: (512) 305-7030 (Outside Texas)Customer Service Phone: (800) 248-4062 (Texas only)Customer Service E-mail: verifcic@tmb.state.tx.us

Nevada State Board of Medical Examiners
1105 Terminal Way, Suite 301
Reno, NV 89502-2144
Phone: (775) 688-2559
Toll Free: (888) 890-8210 (in state)
Fax: (775) 688-2321
Email: nsbme@medboard.nv.gov

THE MEDICAL BOARD Of CALIFORNIA
2005 EVERGREEN STREET, SUITE 1200
SACRAMENTO, CA 95815
webmaster@mbc.ca.gov

REMEMBER Judge Pastor’s words –

“Murray violated the trust of the medical community, of his colleagues, & of his patient. he IS & REMAINS dangerous.” 

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STAND up for our brother, Michael –

STAND up for other  potential  victims of Conrad Murray’s calloused neglect, medical malfeasance and boundless hubris.

 

 

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Michael Jackson an Autism Inspiration

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Michael Jackson an Autism Inspiration
January 31st, 2012

Michael Jackson an Autism Inspiration Story for One Special Italian Fan

Many friends of mine have asked me to share this wonderful experience. I’ve tried my best to tell it somehow, but I think it’s impossible to describe such a deep, strong emotion. What Michael gave me on that day is beyond words.

Before I begin, I’d like to say that Michael was not only my favorite artist, he accompanied me through different times of my life; during the lightheartedness of my adolescence and also in my hardest times. His music was actually the sound track of my life. Thanks to him I met my husband, not to mention the wonderful friendships that I made.

When I was a child, I called my secret diary “Michael,” and every time I wrote something in it, it was like I was speaking to him. I remember that I covered up my room’s walls with all of his photos, but in particular, I had his poster in life-size beside my bed portraying him lying down; he really just seemed to be on my bed. I remember it looked so natural that my little nieces were scared of it. They adored Michael, but still they were so scared that he would turn into a werewolf. If you only knew of all the conversations that I had with that poster….well, I was 11 at the time. Many children have their imaginary friend; I had Michael Jackson.

The first great emotion that I felt was on May 23rd, 1988, the first time I went to see him in concert (I was 17 years old.) It was in Rome at the Flaminio Stadium, the first European stop on the BAD Tour.

Oh my God, what a concert!

In 1990, I married Giuseppe, better known as “Peppe Michael Jackson.” I’m not joking when I say that he was famous for his resemblance to Michael.

In 1991, my first child Tania was born. Needless to say, she already knew Michael from her mother’s womb. On July 4th, 1992, I attended another concert. It was during the Dangerous Tour, and only those who have seen this concert can understand how wonderful it really was.

In 1993, Vincenzo, my second child, was born. A great joy for me, but unfortunately that year, I had to face a very tough reality. Tania, my daughter, was diagnosed with Autism.

It’s not that easy for a 22-year-old girl to discover she had an Autistic daughter. I’m not referring only to the hurt of finding out, but it’s not easy to handle such trouble at that young age (it’s never easy; whatever age is it, honestly). Thanks to God, He gives us, besides all the pains and the sorrows in our life, also the strength and the dignity to face them.

Growing up and becoming a mother never reduced my love for Michael. On the contrary, it increased. Perhaps it was because I always identified myself with him. Michael and I had so many things in common. Our childhoods and the things we missed during that time, and having 3 sisters and 5 brothers increased my love for him more, I guess.

In 1996, I knew that Michael would have started his HIStory Tour in Prague. Some of my friends were getting ready for the tour, and I was feeling very bad because I knew that having two little children would keep me from ever going with them. As “fate” would have it, my neighbors were from Prague. They knew very well what I felt for Mike. I’ll never forget that night when they told my husband: “Come on you! Michael Jackson will be in our town. Let Stefania go see him with her friends. Our house is midtown of Prague and is vacant, so she could stay there. We will help you here with the babies.”

When my husband said yes, I couldn’t believe it! It seemed to me as I could fly! Since that day my dreams started, and I said to myself: “This time I will not be satisfied only by watching him on stage. He must know that I exist. He’s got to know what he gave me and what he represents to me. I’ll have to do something to impress him.”

So I got a canvas, 2 x 3 meters, and I started painting on it. I just had such a strong inspiration. I knew so well what to do; Michael sitting under a tree with the Walt Disney characters all around him. Peter Pan sitting on his knees; a river, a lawn, many children and Topo GiGio (whom he really adored) waving the Italian flag. I had lots of time to do it since I would not see Michael for many months. ‘I’ll make it.’ I repeated to myself, and I kept on painting with all my love.

Finally, on September 5th, I landed at the Prague airport with my friend Vania and my canvas. Sonia and Patrizia who were also from Naples, were waiting for us. They had arrived two days before. We went to our friends’ house to drop off our suitcases, and then we rushed off right away to the Intercontinental Hotel where Michael was staying. On our way in the car, Sonia told me she was lucky enough to have hugged Michael the day before. Some fans were allowed to stand within the barriers placed in front of the hotel entrance. She was even allowed to enter with another group of fans into the restaurant where Michael was. I was happy for her, but at the same time I was regretting that I had not been there the day before. Maybe (who knows) Michael could have seen my canvas. This thought kept repeating itself.

That night I couldn’t close my eyes for the thought of the next morning, when we would have to leave in the early dawn to get the best places to stand at the hotel. We were the first to arrive that morning, September 6th. We put my drawing within the barriers just in front of the main entrance, so when Michael would come out he would surely see it just in front of him.

The long wait began. Meanwhile, several fans began to arrive increasing the crowd in an amazing way. They were coming from every part of the world. Many of them came up to me to compliment me on my drawing. Michael’s photographer approached me and started taking pictures of it, very satisfied. A little bit later, Michael’s cameraman was there too, and videotaped the canvas for what seemed to be a very long time. He congratulated me on a great job as well.

I was certainly very flattered by that, but I wanted Michael. I wanted to see his eyes looking down on my canvas, and then hope that our glances would cross into one another’s. I had dreamed it for so many years. Finally, into the later part of the morning, the hotel door opened. Everybody started screaming “Michael! Michael!” I was paralyzed. I couldn’t believe it; he was just a few meters from me. He was gorgeous!

He wore black trousers, a red shirt and a black jacket. At one point he looked down at the drawing. He even stopped to do his thumbs-up as if to say, “Okay!” He took a few steps forward to say hello to the crowd, and then he came back to sit in the car. He must have gone to the wrong vehicle because he got out and went to another car. (There were 2 of the same looking cars parked in a row.) Wayne, his bodyguard, called Teddy Lakis (star promoter) and pointed to the drawing. He came over to us and said, “Michael likes this drawing very much, he‘d like to have it.” Since I had lost my tongue to speak, my friends answered, “Oh, yes! This was drawn just for him, but she would love to have the pleasure of giving it to him personally.” He went back to Michael to report what he was told, and then returned to us and said, “Okay, Mr. Jackson is going to visit the President, but when he comes back he said you’re invited to go up in his room.” After those words, I couldn’t understand anything more. I laughed, I cried, I trembled, I stammered; I was totally out of my mind!

He hadn’t much make-up on and he was gorgeous! His hair was tied in a strange way; a sort of loose ponytail. He wore the same red shirt of that morning, but had on different trousers. I was trembling so badly and praying, ‘God please, I don’t want to cry and look foolish, so please give me the strength to control myself and stand on my own two feet.’

I went on staring at him; I did not want to miss anything. Suddenly, Wayne motioned to me to open the tube and I made a fool of myself once again. Since it was huge and very heavy, I made it crash into the chandelier with a terrible clatter. Luckily it didn’t break, and I only managed to say in a whisper, “Oh, sorry.” It was in that moment that his eye caught mine, and he smiled with the sweetest expression.

As the bodyguards rolled out the canvas, Michael stood up from the chair with an, “Oooohhh!” as if to say, “At last!” He began to observe it with the enthusiasm of a child. He was very sweet because I was very nervous, and he tried to make me feel at ease by commenting on it aloud and smiling, “Oh my God, it’s wonderful!” Then, without turning away from the picture, he came closer to look at it and he started shouting, “Oooohhh, Topo Gigìo!” dwelling on the final i of the name. Everyone was laughing at his childlike behavior but me. I was paralyzed.

His eyes lit up like those of a child in front of his favorite toy. Apart from Wayne and Yanik, there were some kids in his room and a woman whom I think was their mother: She had always been with Michael since his arrival in Prague, but I did not know who she was.

When Michael saw Topo Gigio with the Italian flag in his hand, he asked me, “Are you Italian?” I answered, “Yes”. The woman immediately began to speak to me in Italian and said, “Oh, how nice, I’m Italian too. Where are you from?” When I answered, “I’m from Naples,” Michael smiled at me and said, “Oh, I love Naples.”

He kept on analyzing the picture; concentrating on every single detail and saying, “Oh boy, it’s wonderful, wonderful!” Luckily the woman helped me by acting as an interpreter. Michael asked me, “Why did you choose to portray us under a tree?” I answered, “I don’t know, it has been a sort if inspiration. I saw it in my mind before painting.” He said, “Oh, sure. You had a vision! That tree means a lot to me.”
Then the woman smiled and said to me, “Wow, he said he will bring it home and put it in his room.” I couldn’t believe it and I just said, “Thank you.” He said, “No, thank you! You gave me such a beautiful present. It is full of love.” He went on saying, “Thank you, I love you.”

Wayne, who was holding up the canvas together with the woman, told Yanik to take a picture. Unfortunately, at that moment Michael put on his mask. I believe he did so because he had almost no make-up on. I could clearly see some spots of vitiligo on his face, in particular between his cheek and the right ear. Then he gave me his hand, and invited me to stand close to him for the photo.

I don’t know how I managed to stand on my feet, especially when I felt his hand holding my hip. I wore an openwork t-shirt, and I could feel his fingers touching my skin; he smelt of vanilla perfume. It was the hardest time of my life. My heart was beating so hard that I’m sure he could hear it too. In the meantime, Yanik was fighting with the camera and couldn’t get the picture. Michael said something, but I couldn’t understand. He told Yanik something like he was the only one who could be a true bodyguard, and then he teased him by saying, “Hello, Yanik, you know that if you don’t push the button you can’t take the picture, don’t you?” Everybody started laughing. I was still feeling Michael’s hand on my hip and I felt very dizzy. It seemed like the whole room was moving around me. I took a deep breath and smiled while Yanik finally took the picture. Michael exclaimed, “We did it!”

That was the most beautiful moment in my life; his beautiful eyes were staring at mine. He understood that I was much too excited and so he asked me, “Are you ok?” with such an incredible sweetness. That was the real moment that I did let myself go. I threw my arms around him sobbing, “Oh, Michael.” He hugged me too; he held me so tightly and I broke down and cried. That was the one thing I never wanted to do in front of him, crying just like every common fan, but I accumulated too much tension so I could not hold it back. Michael, with all his sweetness, kept on caressing my head and my back. If I could have, I would have stopped the time and stayed in his arms and felt his warmth, heard his voice and smelled his perfume into eternity.

I couldn’t believe it. I dreamt of that moment since I was a child. I have imagined that scene a million times, and now I really was there in those arms. God, he smelled so good, and how tight he was holding me! I shall never be able to describe what I felt at that moment. Never!

Since I couldn’t stop crying, I told him, “I’m sorry,” and he said to me, smiling with such an indescribable kindness, “Oh-oh! It’s all right.” He stared at me with that particular glance that only he has and asked me again, “Are you ok?” It was incredible! Just a few moments earlier he looked like a child to me, and now only a few minutes later he took the stature of a father figure. I told him, “I’m fine, thank you.” Then he smiled and asked me with some curiosity what I had in my bag.

I actually didn’t realize that I had been holding my bag since I entered the room, but I was so excited I didn’t think to put it down anywhere. Inside of it I had my children’s photos, and a letter that I wrote for him in which I had opened my heart; writing all that Michael meant to me, and giving him all my support for all that he had to endure. He put down the bag on the table and began to leaf through the photos. I told him, “These are my children.” He replied, “Oh, congratulations, you already are a mother. But they’re such beautiful kids!” I said, “This is Vichi, he’s 3, and he has imitated you since he was only one.” He smiled, saying that Vichi was really a beautiful baby boy.

Then I showed him Tania’s photos, and I said to him that she’s Autistic. He said, “Oh no, I’m sorry! I do know Autism. They live in a world all on their own.” “Sure,” I replied, “and you are part of her world too. Since she was a newborn baby, she always listened to your music when she breaks down and cries. She needs to listen to your songs to calm her. She does not play any kind of game, so most of the time she usually spends her hours watching your videos. When we were at the hospital, we had to take the video player and all of your VHS tapes with us to make her stay quiet.” He became serious, slowly taking a careful look at Tania’s pictures, visibly touched.

He said nothing at first, and then spoke. “She’s beautiful. Her glance; her smile is wonderful. Can I take her pics?” “Certainly you can,” I replied. “How old is she?” He asked. “She’s five,” I said. “Can she speak?” “No, Michael. Unfortunately I never heard the sound of her voice.” He said, “No! My God! She‘s so beautiful! Is there something I could do for her? Do you need my help? How can I help you?” I simply thanked him. I could have asked him to let Tania meet him because he often gave hospitality to many disabled children in Neverland, but I did not have the courage to ask. I’m still regretting this decision. I’m sure that Tania would have been so happy there. She loves to see him singing and dancing.

Michael took my hand, and looking into my eyes he said, “Don’t ever lose your faith or your hope, and don’t stop fighting for her. Never! Don’t give up!” We embraced each other once again, and just as I was crying I said, “Thank you Michael, I love you!” and he answered, “I love you too; I love you more.” It was such an intense moment; so special that I have real a difficulty telling it. I fear that it may go away somehow.

I always knew that he was a sensitive, kind of person, but at that moment he was sensitive only for me. He was really touched, and he made me feel all his support and all his love. What a wonderful man; so humble and special! (Here, I start crying again) Then he took my letter, and I said, “Michael, please, it’s so important to me that you’ll read my letter.” And he said, “I’ll do it tonight, I promise.”

Unfortunately, it came my time to say goodbye. Wayne was already waiting for me close to the door. I said to that woman, “Please, I have something more to tell him.” I would have told him that I felt so sorry for him; for everything he had to go through because of the charges and the wickedness he suffered. I wanted to say these things to him even if I had already written everything in my letter. I was only able to say, “How are you?” But I’m quite sure he knew what I was referring to. In fact, we looked into each other’s eyes and I felt really in tune with him. He thanked me and he told me he was fine, also thanking us for the gestures of love that he received from us in which he gained more and more strength. I told him, “Please, take care of you, and don’t forget you’ll always have our support; we will always be with you.” “Ooh, thank you, I love you so much. God bless you,” he said. We said goodbye, and while I was walking to the door I reminded him to read my letter once again. He brought his hand to his lips and kissed the index and the middle finger, and then he placed them to his heart saying, “I swear it.”

I almost crossed the threshold, when I realized that I had forgotten to take the paper bag which had some gifts in it that my friends gave me to give to Michael. I turned back with confidence, took the bag and said, “Oh, I forgot to give Michael these things” Red faced, I went back over to Michael. He looked at me smiling. I threw this enormous bag of gifts into his hands, and instead of telling him that those were my friends’ gifts for him, I said: “These are my friends.” God, how embarrassing. Everyone there was laughing. Michael made fun of me, looking into the bag with his eyes open wide. We all were laughing; it was really a nice moment and Michael was so cute. He asked me to help him hold the bag while he took the items from inside. I don’t know how I contained myself because from that moment on, I can’t recall anything. I don’t remember how we said goodbye. I don’t remember who brought me downstairs. I don’t even remember if the girls who came up with me had left already or if they came down with me. I only know that I found myself sitting and crying on the sidewalk.

Separating myself from him was one of the most difficult moments of my life.

Thirteen years have gone by, and I still have not remembered what happened; my mind completely removed the moments after I left. He dedicated so much of his time to me making me feel loved….me, a perfect stranger! He was really a gift of God!

Thank you Michael, you are really an angel….. You will always live in my heart. I love you!
Stefania Capasso
(stefyMJ)

Source:  http://www.mjjuniverse.com/universe/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=883

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