Megablocks of material is available on the internet about Michael Jackson. An amazing performer who suffered a Greek tragedy style downfall. He faced nasty, nasty, nasty allegations, and had, maybe, drug problems, health problems, public image crap, the man was probably pretty through the wringer when he bought the business off a sleeping drug. Sad. Tragic. There are moments of inspiration. People throw fits. There is dancing. Recriminations. And nose synthesis.
Early in Michael's teen years the inestimable talent began showing a cosmetic bugaboo. His nose was getting larger. Something similar happened to me. I never had surgery, and still got a big one. Mister Jackson took a series of treatments on his large proboscis. You will see in the embedded video that at that juncture, it was medium sized, very handsome, I'd pay a few bucks for one like it. Subsequent surgeries over his salad performing years yielded incrementally smaller noses. It did not, as some pundits may logically conclude, reduce in size to nothing. But it was purported to be at risk of necrosis. For non-medical types, the organ of scent was dying on his puss. And then he finished the job, with the help of his since convicted not too fucking good personal physician. His doctor killed his ass with a sleeping med. Very fucked up.
His nose, at it's zenith, defied nature. Neither Zeus nor Zoroaster could produce a nose as cool as his. He had the only model that looked like that, and maybe the whole process was worth it. Combined with immense talent, it intrigued all hairy, horny hell out of the listening, viewing public. It was fucking magical. Maybe we should all get our nose fixed and have a few sleeping pills, to commemorate the late, fab Michael Jackson.
Early in Michael's teen years the inestimable talent began showing a cosmetic bugaboo. His nose was getting larger. Something similar happened to me. I never had surgery, and still got a big one. Mister Jackson took a series of treatments on his large proboscis. You will see in the embedded video that at that juncture, it was medium sized, very handsome, I'd pay a few bucks for one like it. Subsequent surgeries over his salad performing years yielded incrementally smaller noses. It did not, as some pundits may logically conclude, reduce in size to nothing. But it was purported to be at risk of necrosis. For non-medical types, the organ of scent was dying on his puss. And then he finished the job, with the help of his since convicted not too fucking good personal physician. His doctor killed his ass with a sleeping med. Very fucked up.
His nose, at it's zenith, defied nature. Neither Zeus nor Zoroaster could produce a nose as cool as his. He had the only model that looked like that, and maybe the whole process was worth it. Combined with immense talent, it intrigued all hairy, horny hell out of the listening, viewing public. It was fucking magical. Maybe we should all get our nose fixed and have a few sleeping pills, to commemorate the late, fab Michael Jackson.
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