While I sipped from a plastic cup full of Yellow Tail sparkling wine on the lawn of a Williamstown, MA hotel next to some annoying ass little brats playing Marco Polo in the hot tub (Tip of the day: If you want to play the worst game of Marco Polo EVER, play it in a hot tub. Who does that?), J. Harvey posted about how the Jackson family were really close to putting a picture of Katherine Jackson on the back of every carton of Jesus Juice. They couldn’t find the reigning matriarch of the Jackson family and even filed a missing persons report with the LAPD. But Detective La Toya can put down her magnifying glass and stop running around the streets of Europe while screaming (in an Ashley Judd voice), “WHERE IS MY MOM?!!!“
The Washington Post says that the LAPD called off a search yesterday after they talked to Katherine Jackson who’s in Arizona with Rebbie Jackson. The story goes that Katherine’s doctor told her to rest and stay away from the phone, so she packed up her restin’ wig and headed to Arizona. That is why she has not called any of the children she’s legally required to take care of.
I love how Katherine Jackson isn’t even trying to get a fuck and has forced Paris Jackson to spread the foolery on Twitter. Memaw Katherine didn’t leave a note and didn’t even fill a giant bowl with Cheerios and milk so her grandchildren have something to nibble on for nourishment while she’s away. None of that. Sometimes a memaw just really needs to drop off the face of her grandchildrens’ lives to smooth her splintery nerves on the sweet moves Rebbie Jackson throws down while performing an acoustic version of Centipede in the rec room.
Katherine Jackson might not be missing, but whatever is left of my soul is after I died for five seconds while looking at that picture of her in a side-eye showdown with Toy Toy.