My ears are filled with bumblebees. I shake my head, but there is no sting, and the noise remains. Filling my head. Dripping out of my eye sockets. A ceaseless mating call of the helicopter in nature. Three of them vying for the same succulent consort.
BUZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ whirrrr whirrr whirrrr.
I look up to the sky and see all of them up there. Channel 4! SKYFOX! Unmarked chopper, apparently filled with men who have taken photos of Sean Penn and have the bruises to show for it. They arrived last night at 4 pm. Hovering. Buzzing. Waiting. I come into work today, and again they are there. Cameras at the ready. Batteries charged, and tapes rewound. Each one of them is willing to elbow his way to the best picture of a former pop star, current suspect exiting his airplane. They have parachutes and dreams of being the first free falling papparzi. The pilots want to go home, and get away from the almost toxic fumes of alcohol coming from the photographer’s breath; they long for the comfortable fumes of jet fuel of the airport lounge.
BUZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ whirrrr whirrr whirrrr.
I have been listening to my phone. Changing the channel. Hoping against absurd hope that I can come in contact with those choppers. I want to tell them that I drew a picture of the king of pop exiting the airplane, and I will send it to them for free if they will just go away. I even included the 1980s shiny glove, and bubbles the misunderstood chimp, for good measure. I want to tell them that I think the choppers are going to crash into each other, and if they are doing it on purpose just to see if Michael Jackson will use his gift of flight to save them from a watery grave, they might be in for a big surprise. I want to ask them if they could turn the helicopters into stealth mode, just for a few hours. I also want to let them know that their mother is calling them, so they need to go home now.
BUZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ whirrrr whirrr whirrrr.
They’re still there. Patience is their greatest strength, it seems. They will stay there for hours. Waiting to take a picture of a man covering his face while leaving an airplane. Hoping for something… I don’t know what. I don’t mind tabloid journalism, I just prefer it when it’s about aliens and Elvis, and not hovering above my head for hours at a time.
I just drove from Goleta to my home in uptown Santa Barbara. I was formulating the very same rant in my mind when I saw that you beat me to it. There were four fucking news copters hovering over the airport. Gawking freeway drivers made my ride a bit more dangerous than usual.
I hope that Mr. Jackson decides to off himself and save my beloved community two years of hassle. Is there any chance they can have the trial up in Santa Maria?
Oh, and in case I get called for jury duty in the near future. Realize that this post is date stamped. THERE IS NO DOUBT IN MY MIND THAT JACKSON IS GUILTY!!!
I just posted this in the other Jacko thread. A friend just e-mailed me a pic of him sporting a snappy new pair of bracelets - it must have been taken within the last few hours. Will this affect whether he arrives in Santa Barbara or not?
My apologies for the impending media circus, inhabitants of Santa Barbara. All that happens in my hometown is the Yankees and they’re about three miles from where I live. Sometimes we get big, looming, lurking blimps, but they’re pretty quiet–they sound like big distant lawnmowers in the sky.
Spiny and I had a helicopter hovering directly over our place Sunday morning. It was so loud and obnoxious we could hardly stand it, so I can certainly sympathize with your plight, pricciar. I hope it all ends soon!
P.S. I was just talking about you the other day and wondering how you were doing. Glad to see you’re still around!
There are so many other, more needy, celebritys that could use the media attention right now. Please let him plead to something quickly and get this over with. What I don’t get is why I’m supposed to be surprised. That settlement he paid many years ago was far more than just nuisance money. What, he’s not weird enough to believe something like this?
I too live in SB and this morning as I passed the courthouse at about 8 am, I saw a very large TV satellite truck parked on the street and NOTHING was even happening there!
I work a few blocks from the courthouse so I am sure parking will be even worse than it already is here when this circus actually gets underway.
Haj, we probably pass each other on State St. I’m the guy growling at those homeless jerks in front of Rite Aid near Canon Perdido.
I’ve growled at those very same guys. It’s too small a town. If we don’t know each other, we almost certainly know someone in common. I see someone I know every time I go out and I’m pretty much a loner.
Our fair city is safe for the next 60 days when the next phase of this fiasco starts.
I can’t stand paparazzi. Or sensationalists seeking “journalists”. In fact, I consider a large percentage of journalists pretty suspect. Damn vultures.
I live in Gary, Indiana - you know, Wacko Jacko’s home town.
We’ve had reporters wandering around for days looking for someone who gives a damn to quote about this “development”. Hell, even most of the Jackson relatives don’t seen to give a damn Then again, he’s been back here maybe twice in the last 40 years (he did show up last summer, briefly) and he hasn’t really done anything for the folks back home - you know, maybe helped a few cousins through college, fund a day care center, whatever. He doesn’t care about Gary, so why should Gary care about him?*
Frankly, I found it amusing that he flew into the airport where Jerry Springer keeps his airplane. Imagine those two bumping into each other. Ah, well, it never happened…
I tell folks the Gloved One is the strangest thing to have escaped Gary. We do have other peculiar things walking about the place, but so far they have not been infliicted on the public at large.
