As I have nothing better to do this morning but ponder the oddities of pop culture, I'm curious as to why there has not yet been a convergence of crazy with a pairing up of Michael Jackson and Octuplet Mom. Ok it's peculiar, I know, but bear with me. He professes to love kids and doesn't seem to need a woman around for "customary" companionship -- and has gobs of money. She doesn't seem to want a man in the standard sense either but desires, and has, lots of kids -- and she needs cash. Considering his riches, he's likely got plenty of room to spare and God knows she's got plenty of womb to share. Together they could work as a duo, yet retain a modicum of independence.
I'm thinking the two icons of extreme could, in their struggle for foolish publicity and fame, join celibately together and soak the lime-light for all it's worth. He would be seen as a creepy hero of sorts and she would morph into being the Mother Theresa of imprudent moms. In a few short years they could even go on tour and perform We Are the World without having to hire local choirs to join them on stage for the song; they'd have their own brood of angelic back-up singers and the now ancient Bubbles could serve as MC. It's all very thrilling to contemplate once one buries the natural revulsion that first floods the mind.
Nadya Suleman is clearly searching for balance in her present maternal insanity. Michael Jackson appears to be reaching yet again for some semblance of equilibrium by announcing a return to the stage. If the two were to team up there could emerge a situation that suggests something bordering on normal -- at least as far as the celebrity-tabloid shows are concerned. Dr. Phil could even officiate over their union and declare it moderately rational. The networks, always in search of titillating reality-show ideas, could enter a bidding war for the right to chronicle their lives. The kiddies would have room to roam free at Neverland Ranch and Nadya would get her exorbitant birth-bills paid off by Michael -- who now would have a stable of playmates. And because network cameras would follow them at all times, he'd be more likely to keep his dignity and nose clean -- what's left of either of them anyway.
Finally, there are the endorsements. Nadya, feeling the need to contribute after a year or so of this sugar-daddy baby-merger, could probably ink lucrative deals with everyone from Pampers to the latest in Chrysler mini-vans. (Thereby saving that company from bankruptcy.) Jacko, along with his two other children, might sign with Disney for movie deals and even star in a re-make of Yours, Mine and Ours titled Mine, Mine and More Mine. Public opinion might twist, suddenly, to embrace Jacko and Octo's circumstance and christen it a heartwarming fable of staggeringly noble proportions.
It cheers me that I am a component of the ever-spinning wheel of culture and celebrity churn -- and I am, because I see all of it unfold mercilessly on my television and computer screen. I can Twitter about it, post to Huffington about it and truly feel I'm part of its raw, exciting evolution. It's a great country where possibilities, even for the seemingly insane, are rife with glow and greatness. The merger of Jackson and Suleman could be the birth of something innovative and immense as far as pop culture is concerned; a beneficent Triumph of the Swill.