Cast the First Stone

I did not grow up knowing or listening to famous singers because we did not have a tv, we had one radio but it hardly worked. The only reason we were in possession of that square noise-making box was because someone borrowed money from my dad and could not repay, so he gave us his old radio. And when that box worked, we were afraid to use it because my mom would get mad -"you're running the battery down and we don't have money to buy another one."

Until I hitched my cart to Journey with Arnel Pineda last year, I could not relate to people obsessing about musicians. Like, cry and scream and pass out or lay on the ground convulsing, frothing in the mouth then get up and do the moonwalk....Michael!!!Michael (sob,sob)

The other day, a friend of mine started throwing Michael Jackson under the bus -"What's all these hysteria and tribute for a pedophile, and Bernie Madoff gets 150 years in jail?"
I had to take a long swallow, inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth, (so I don't whack her.) It took all of me to simply say : "Ok, if you're without sin, cast the first stone." She didn't hear what I said because she's hard of hearing, a result from her abusing prescription drugs for so many years. She opened her mouth again and said, "and he grabbed his crotch too much."

I refused to go into battle with her, but really, I've seen ball players do that all the time; grab their crotch and spit and we reward them with millions too, and they can't even do what Michael does best - sing and dance. Or change color.