These aren’t my words, they are Kendrick Lamar’s, and what he says about Michael Jackson is pretty remarkable. Hence, I will provide you with the quote, then I’ll remark.😂
“But then tomorrow, put my back against the wall. How many leaders you said you needed then left ‘em for dead? Is it Moses, is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red? Is it Martin Luther, JFK, shoot or you assassin? Is it Jackie, is it Jesse, oh I know, it’s Michael Jackson, oh
[Bridge 3]
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? That n—a gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids?”
Kendrick Lamar “Mortal Man” on the album “To Pimp A Butterfly”
“Mortal Man” by Kendrick Lamar
And I look at this beautiful image of Michael Jackson from the streets of Miami, and I think to myself: “Maybe I’m a butterfly? Maybe we’re all butterflies?” Not to shortly after that, the schocker: “Maybe we’re all being pimped?”
Michael Jackson’s public perception is what it is. It has become separated among near ideological boundaries with adherents paying no mind to facts, nor anything for that matter, that would sway their point of view.
So then how do I figure out the answer if its all a point of view? Before I concern myself too much, I leave the thought with you like I leave this Michael Jackson photo.
I suppose we will all have to make up our minds whether we are being pimped or not?🤔❤️✌🏾️
Cold air rushes through my nostrils. I’m nursing an injury to my lungs. Sometimes I cough. I look over to my right-snow. To my left? Also snow😂 It’s coming down thick, so thick that you can’t see in front of you. It reminds me of when I used to walk to school in Toronto. The ice would crunch underneath my boots and leave these little holes in the ground. You could tell something had been there-me. Something in this painting reminds me of the footprints in the ice; except the footprints in this case are the red ones (seen jn upper middle part of this), and they belong to some fearsome animal everyone is afraid of and never seen up close and in person-only heard about in fearful, hushed whispers. Maybe I’ll get to see what it is in the next painting.☺️
The Black Aesthete 