A "This is real" Update:Humanity Officially In Decline as of the Michael Jackson Robot

Above: Michael Jackson opted to appear live via satellite for the press conference.


This is real:

Michael Jackson is going to create a 50 foot robot version of himself as part of a Jackson themed attraction in Las Vegas.

This is real:

The robot is intended to stride "around the desert, firing laser beams."

This is real:

Luckman Van Pier, Jackson's business partner told the New York Daily News, "It would be in the desert sands. Laser beams would shoot out of it so it would be the first thing people flying in would see."


So the question to ask is...

Is this madness?

Well, it's certainly not Sparta, although Jackson's face has had more work done to it than the dailies from "300."

We all want to be remembered and loved, but come on! There are gradations to self-aggrandizement. This is right off the charts though. It's not as if there was a groundswell of popular support from thousands of Americans moved to create this robot as a show of love for a living legend. The man's not dying, he's not sick. How could he be? He's been in a hyperbaric chamber for decades.

Jackson was probably just sitting around trying to melt a grilled cheese sandwich with his chi and it occured to him how much easier it would be if only he could shoot lasers from his eyes.

But a 50 foot robot replica of yourself that shoots lasers to attract people to your Las Vegas show? Stop the Elephant Man-themed rollercoaster cause I need to get off.

Michael Jackson is a mentally diseased freakshow who used up his King of Pop capital long ago. Normally, I'd suggest a healthy regimen of sepuku until a case of reputation-restorative death kicked in and we could finally just remember the guy for what he did right...so many years ago.

I'm feeling kind today however.

Therefore, I'll suggest the following: Michael does not need to die, but he does need to ingest a 10,000 kilogram dose of Lunesta laced with warm milk and footy pajamas to make sure he naps for the rest of his unnatural life. The next peep we hear from him should be the ungodly snores that must rip through his surgically daintified, plastic pixie-fart of a nose. As of now, every penny earned by Drink At Work will go exclusively to the bioengineering of a vast armada of cyberorganic Lunesta moths programmed to hover exclusively around Jackson and anyone stupid enough to suggest the creation of mechanical, 50 foot, laser shooting tribute to the man, keeping them abed now and forever.

Or until the moths break down.

So...maybe a week?

Donations can be made live at the Drink At Work Show every Tuesday night at 8 pm at Rififi in the form of a $5 bill.

And before I go, I'll answer the question forming in your brainage right now. "Is there irony in making a denouncement of the grandiose self-promotional schemes of others and ending it with a blatant advertisement for your own show?"

Surely, friend. But thankfully, this is America and we don't truck with irony.

Spectacle? Yes.

Irony? Not since Thomas Paine.

We miss you, T-bird.

Thanks to comedian and DAW favorite Vince Averill for the glorious tip-off.