
Who'd'a thought Mikey would make it to his 48th birthday? We know we didn't. We mean with all the drug abuse, eating disorders, unnecessary and hideous-resulting plastic surgeries, the drinking, the french fries late at night with the boys, the unrestricted Skittle consumption, the Jesus Juice, the enemas, the tampons, the crying jags and the climbing in a tree, the traveling to Thailand and Brazil, the game playing with the boys, the skin bleaching, the makeup, the lipstick, the tattooed eyeliner, the implanting, the eye-widening, the hair burning, the Jheri Curling, the weaving, the individual whisker applying, the metal knee guarding, the epaulet dependency, the boys staying the night, the "sleeping on the floor", the arm-band addiction, the falling in the bathtub/closet, the celery juice diet drinking, the hanging out with hordes of yes-men and women and advisors and lawyers and no-account family members all out to get his money, money, money, the endless working on that danged Katrina single (stormy Miss Katrina having had her own first birthday just a few days ago), the trying on of endless outfits meant to 'butch up' or hip-hop our hero, the Muslim style cross-dressing, the drafting of press releases promising a comeback/new album/new tour/new house/new country/new anything worth seeing, the endless dodging of lawsuits by associates/lawyers/advisors/business partners, and always the tiring and endless stream of demands from boys, boys' parents and more boys, the fatherhood, the crazy ex-wives, the scheming nanny, the arab prince, the homelessness, the police "manhandling, the "doo-doo feces", the courtroom, the walk to the courtroom, the crazy-assed fans, the losing the ranch for all intents and purposes, the needy animals... We were entirely sure it would all be too much for Mikey and that he'd have checked out by this point and moved to that celebrity loony bin in the sky where his throne awaits with the gold plaque that reads "King of Fools".
Sigh. So, twisted birthday wishes, Mikey, here's hoping you and the kids don't spill ice cream on your burkas or whatever you're wearing or not wearing tonight... You give credence to the idea that cockroaches really are survivors!