Posts Tagged ‘ money ’

Robbery Suspect Caught on Tape NR13005bb

January 3, 2013
Robbery Suspect Caught on Tape NR13005bb

Los Angeles Police Department Newton Area Robbery Detectives are asking for the public’s help to identify a robbery suspect caught on surveillance video. On December 23, 2012, at 3:10 pm, the suspect drove up to a propane gas business located in the 500 block of East Slauson Boulevard in south Los Angeles. The suspect exited his vehicle holding a handgun in his right hand and walked directly to the cashier/attendant. The suspect pointed the handgun at the attendant and demanded money. The suspect took the money from the cashier, returned to his vehicle and drove away. The suspect is described as a 30 to 35-year-old male Hispanic, 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighs around 190 pounds. In the photo below, the suspect was wearing a piece of grey tape under his right eye possibly to cover a tattoo. Surveillance footage of the robbery is available at www.lapdtv.org The suspect’s vehicle is described as a 2000 — 2005 Chevy Impala, light gray or white in color. Anyone with information regarding this case is asked to call Newton Area Robbery Detective Medina or Detective O’Brien at 323-846-6572.During non-business hours or on weekends, calls should be directed to 1-877-LAPD-24-7 (1-877-527-3247). Anyone wishing to remain anonymous should call Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-TIPS (800-222-8477). Tipsters may also contact Crime Stoppers by texting to phone number 274637 (CRIMES on most keypads) with a cell phone. All text messages should begin with the letters “LAPD.” Tipsters may also …

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Subway Restaurant Robbery Suspects Caught on Tape NR12468cn

October 12, 2012
Subway Restaurant Robbery Suspects Caught on Tape NR12468cn

Los Angeles: LAPD Central Area Detectives are asking for the public’s help in identifying two robbery suspects whose images were captured on surveillance video committing a robbery at Subway restaurant. On Monday October 1, 2012, two unidentified male suspects entered the location in the 700 block of N. Main Street and ordered a sandwich. Upon reaching the cash register, suspect #1 pulled out a handgun from his waistband and pointed it at the cashier demanding money. Suspect #2, standing by, told the cashier, “You’re taking too long!” Fearing for her life the cashier handed the money to suspect 1, after which both men took the money and left the store. Suspect #1 is described as a male Hispanic, 18-20 years old, with a shaved head about 5 feet 9 inches tall. He weighs about 160 pounds and has a tattoo of “LA” above his eyebrow and an unknown tattoo on his right ear lobe. Suspect #2 is described as a male Hispanic, 35-40 years old, with a shaved head about 5 feet 6 inches tall. He weighs about 180 pounds and has a tattoos on both arms. Both suspects are considered armed and dangerous. Anyone with information on this crime or the suspects is urged to call LAPD Central Area Detective Doug Pierce at 213-972-1213.During non-business hours or on weekends, calls should be directed to the watch commander at 213-972-1298, or call 1-877-LAPD-24-7 (877-527-3247). Anyone wishing to remain anonymous should call Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-TIPS (800-222-8477). Tipsters may also contact …

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Armed Robbery Suspect Captured on Tape NR12338CJ

July 20, 2012
Armed Robbery Suspect Captured on Tape NR12338CJ

Los Angeles: Detectives are asking for the public’s help to identify armed robbers who held up a liquor store and a small neighborhood market. On July 7, 2012, around 7:40 pm, two men entered a liquor store in the 5400 block of Alhambra Avenue. One of them was armed with a hand gun. The suspects demanded money from the cashier but were scared off by another employee and ran of the store. They entered an older model blue or grey sedan and were driven away from the seen by an unknown driver. At 8:15 pm, the same two suspects entered a neighborhood market in the 3700 block of Olympic Boulevard. The same suspect, armed with handgun, demanded money from the cashier. The cashier, in fear, moved away and the second suspect grabbed the money from the cash register. The suspects left the location in a car driven by a third suspect. The suspect armed with the handgun is described as a 20 to 22-year-old male Hispanic. He stands between 5 feet 8 and 5 feet 10 inches tall. He weighs between 160 and 180 pounds. He was carrying a long barrel chrome revolver with a scope attached. The second suspect is also described as a male Hispanic who stands at 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighs 160 pounds. He was described as having a mustache. The third suspect is the driver of the sedan and there is no description available. The handgun is described as a possible long barrel chrome revolver with a scope attached. All three suspects should be considered armed and dangerous. Store surveillance cameras …

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Harrisburg NC DUI checkpoint

June 28, 2012
Harrisburg NC DUI checkpoint

North Carolina’s wiretapping law is a “one-party consent” law. North Carolina makes it a crime to intercept or record any “wire, oral, or electronic communication” unless one party to the conversation consents. NC Gen. Stat. § 15A-287. Thus, if you operate in North Carolina, you may record a conversation or phone call if you are a party to the conversation or you get permission from one party to the conversation in advance. That said, if you intend to record conversations involving people located in more than one state, you should play it safe and get the consent of all parties. The pigs are out in force to take your money.

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Living Without Money

May 5, 2012
Living Without Money

In this economy, many of us have found ways to cut back: eating out less, resoling shoes instead of purchasing new ones, not turning on the ac  until its absolutely necessary. . . read more

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Little Tokyo Robbery Suspect Sought NR121162bb

April 9, 2012
Little Tokyo Robbery Suspect Sought NR121162bb

Los Angeles: Los Angeles Police Department Central Division Robbery detectives are asking for the public’s help in providing information that would lead to the arrest of a suspect who robbed a store in Little Tokyo by punching two female clerks in the face. On April 6, 2012, around 4:30 pm, the suspect entered a store in the 200 block of East 1st Street, in the Little Tokyo Area of Downtown Los Angeles. The suspect immediately walked up to the store clerk behind the counter, punched her in the face, and emptied the cash register. A second clerk attempted to intervene and was also punched in the face several times resulting in major injuries. The suspect then took the contents of the cash register and both store clerks’ purses and walked out of the store. Surveillance video captured the suspect as he walked away from the store. The suspect is described as a male Hispanic, black hair, and brown eyes, about 40 years-old, stands 5 feet 10 inches tall, and weighs around 200 pounds. He was seen wearing a black jacket with tan pants, and dark brown dress shoes. “Nothing but a bully,” said LAPD Senior Lead Officer Jack Richter, “This suspect could have taken the money and fled, but he chose to brutally attack two innocent women who did not resist. The crime occurred in one of the safest areas of Los Angeles, and what the suspect did not know was that the community has been updating the neighborhood surveillance system and several cameras captured his image as he fled the scene …

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French outfit bags Carlyle Hotel outpost

December 1, 2011

Luxury handbag purveyor Perrin Paris 1893 is making its New York debut. The company, which is based in Paris and has its U.S. flagship location in Beverly Hills, Calif., recently signed a five-year lease for around 550 square feet at 987 Madison Ave. Read the original here: French outfit bags Carlyle Hotel outpost

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The Real Estate Tale of Amar’e Stoudemire: Part I

November 29, 2011
The Real Estate Tale of Amar’e Stoudemire: Part I

BUYER: Amar’e Stoudemire LOCATION: Southwest Ranches, FL PRICE: $3,700,000 SIZE: 14,555 square feet, 6 bedrooms, 6.5 bathrooms (total) YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Before any of y’all get to sassin’ do hear this: Your Mama well knows we are tardy to this here celebrity property party. None-the-less, we think can offer, in our shamelessly and shamefully wind-baggish two-part series, a more complete picture of the real estate picture of New York Knick Amar’e Stoudemire who has been on a bone fide real estate tear this year that includes the recent purchase of a $3,700,000 (mc)mansion in the quasi-rural suburbs between Fort Lauderdale and Miami, FL. In early November 2011 there was bit of business in the New York Post about professional basketballer Amar’e Stoudemire putting the squeeze on his pocketbook due (in part, so goes the report) to the recent ( and now tentatively ended ) NBA lock-out, an event Your Mama does not know a damn thing about other than it means the 2011-12 season has been on hold while the players and the owners duke it out in mediation, adjudication, arbitration or whatever it is people do in big time labor disputes. It should surprise few that Your Mama had never heard of Amar’e Stoudemire–’tis entirely true–and we certainly hadn’t (and haven’t) an iota why such a daring and unexpectedly placed apostrophe dissevers his name. We took a half-hearted moment to peruse the piece in the Post and quickly scampered along without giving neither his name nor his financial matters another thought. A few weeks later along came gossip juggernaut TMZ who dropped a humid real estate nugget about this Amar’e Stoudemire person splashing out $3,700,000 to purchase a prodigious mansion in some place called Southwest Ranches, FL. That seemed to Your Mama like a pretty big purchase price for a place in sub-prime mortgage ravaged Florida that we’ve never heard of before. Our interest piqued and prodded we did some research on Mister Stoudemire that included a look-see at his recent real estate activities, which, as it turns out, have been prolific if quite costly for the highly-compensated professional dribbler. With all due respect for our scuttle butting compadres at TMZ , we discovered Mister Stoudemire’s real real estate story isn’t only about the gigantic, garish and architecturally suspicious (mc)mansion he bought in Southwest Ranches, FL for $3,700,000 but rather the several millions of dollars he’s lost on the significant number of other properties he’s recently dumped from his once-considerable property portfolio. Before we delve in to that bit of real estate bidness, let’s do the right thing and cover our celebrity real estate bases–or goal posts or whatever they have in basketball–and quickly educate the less athletically inclined puppies about just who this unusually named Amar’e Stoudemire person is and why he qualifies to be included in our (admittedly not very exclusive) celebrity real estate sights. Besides tennis and curling, as all the children know, Your Mama doesn’t know a solitary thing about sports, partick the golden triad of organized, American-style professional athletics: football, baseball and basketball. Having no recognition, recollection and/or knowledge whatsoever of just what makes Amar’e Stoudemire sports-world famous we picked up our Princess phone and dialed up our ball crazy b.f.f. Fiona Trambeau who, after shaking of her mid-day boozy-wooze with a few gargled shrieks, informed us Mister Stoudemire is a “quite young, sensationally strapping and deliciously tatted up cup of steaming hot chocolate who can handle [my] her basketballs at any time and at any place of his choosing.” She implored Your Mama, in fact, to post her mobile phone number here so Mister Stoudemire could contact her directly and–natch–we told her we would but only so as to get her to shut her lascivious trap and move on to the meat of the matter, so to speak. Of course, we have no intention of posting Miss Trambeau’s ring-a-ling digits. Your Mama could not in a thousand years subject just any curious person who might make an impromptu call to the often agitated, always saucy (and usually sauced up) Fiona Trambeau. Our Fiona would probably pee with glee were Mister Stoudemire to actually ring her telephone bell but–trust chickens–that crafty beehawtch would figure out a way to transmit mortal violence through the phone wires were just any ol’ person who isn’t Mister Stoudemaire to call because they thought it would be cute to chat up Fiona Trambeau. Besides, she’ll never read this. Fiona does do celebrities but she absolutely does not do celebrity real estate, so she’ll never know. She’s probably already forget she asked us to post the damn number anyways. Between a lathered up Fiona Trambeau and a few easily accessed articles on the interweb, we did finally learn all sorts of things including that Mister Stoudemire was a late bloomer to basketball. He only started passing and shooting in organized leagues at age 14. He took to the sport elementally and advanced quickly to become one of the best high-school ball players in all of the state of Florida. It’s not clear to Your Mama if Mister Stoudemire ever finished college or even matriculated and, honestly, either way it’s irrelevant to our tale of real estate highs and lows. What we did confirm is that in 2002, when just a young but tall ball player of 19 or 20 years old, Mister Stoudemire was drafted by the Phoenix Suns for whom he pounded the hardwoods to great acclaim and award with his hard and powerful 6’10″ frame until sometime in 2010. At that point, in early 2010, the accomplished ball player signed the necessary papers to switch his professional affiliations over to the New York Knicks who, according to some reports , were so hot and bothered to sign the then 27 year old 5-time All-Star player they agreed to pony up just shy of $100,000,000 over the course a five year contract. One hundred million dollars, puppies, and that’s not counting the additional multi-millions he can easily rake in each year from endorsement deals and the many more potential millions from his outside-basketball business endeavors that include a record label ( Hypocalypto ) and a recent assist to fashion designer Rachel Roy to create a limited line of ladies clothing described as ” court side apparel for the fashion-forward female .” Now children, Your Mama don’t know a perspiring glass of swate tay from a god damn tater tot but we do know enough about the business of women’s garmentry to make the uneducated judgement that Rachel Roy knows a thing or two about how to dress a gal on the go with a yen for clean-lined sophistication and a modest budget. However, children, in our itty-bitty pea brain, that edging-on-wanton description of the Roy/Stoudemire clothing collaboration describes something rather more dire sounding, an habiliment short on yardage and probably a little bit (too) tight and/or one-sleeved, something that aches to be worn with either a pair of sky-high porn pumps with girlish ankle-socks or some sort of faux-sporty wedge-heeled sneaker-style situation that makes a twisted mockery of both the high heel and the hard working athletic shoe. Anyhoodles poodles, in addition to spending a few million for a new (mc)mansion in Southwest Florida, Mister Stoudemire has recently divested himself of a number of other properties at considerable financial loss, a magnificent sell-off that may (or may not) have something to do with budget concerns. Simmer down, buckaroos. We’re not saying Mister Stoudemire’s broke or anything like that. We certainly ain’t privy to the particulars of Mister Stoudemire’s pocketbook and we make no claims as to his net worth, income and other cash flow, complete list of assets and/or cash reserves (or lack thereof). We’re just saying there sometimes comes a time in a very young and filthy rich man’s life–maybe a time like when an all-but-ruined 2011 season could, by his own account, keep about twenty million George Washingtons from walking their way into his coffers–when it’s prudent and wise to prune the property tree to ease up on the amount of dough required to maintain, make the mortgages and pay the rent on more than half a dozen high-priced properties on both coasts and in between. At one point in the not so distant past, before he acquired the (pseudo-)palatial pile in Southwest Ranches (FL), the property portfolio of the now New York-based power forward and center ballooned with a leased a pied-a-terre in a Donald Trump-developed complex in White Plains, NY (near where the Knicks training grounds are located), a pricy penthouse in downtown Manhattan (NY), and a house in the Hollywood Hills (CA). He also owned a sexed-up penthouse in Miami Beach plus a pair of adjacent condos in a fancy building in Phoenix, AZ as well as three high-priced and high-maintenance single-family (mc)mansions, also in Phoenix. Before we get Mister Stoudemire’s portfolio thinning, let’s first take a brief spin through Mister Stoudemire’s most recent real estate acquisition, the aforementioned mansion in Southwest Ranches, FL he picked up last month for, as per property records and previous reports, $3,700,000. A quick consult with our high-tech atlas shows this Southwest Ranches place is 35 miles northwest of South Beach, 25 miles or so southwest of the beaches of Fort Lauderdale and just a few short miles from where Flahreeduh’s Escalade-saturated suburban civilization turns to the swampy, alligator-infested Everglades. Listing information for sprawling single-story mcmansion shows it sits on 2.33 gated and landscaped acres in the Landmark Ranch Estates enclave, measures in at a considerable 14,555 square feet and includes a total of 6 bedrooms and 6.5 bathrooms. A dead-straight pavered driveway leads from the street to a perfectly harrowing porte cochere held aloft by six round columns and bizarrely topped by a petite cupola. Etched glass front doors open to a marble-floored foyer that steps down to the formal living room complete with fireplace, built-in bar area, and a swimming pool view from a wall of towering windows. A short corridor off the living room opens to a library, small home office, 4-car garage and the master suite. A butler’s pantry connects the formal dining room to the family quarters, a large laundry room and the colossal kitchen complete with commercial-grade appliances and more faux-antiqued, totally custom, no doubt shockingly expensive, eggshell-colored cabinetry adorned with copious corbels and other carved details than we’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing in one kitchen at one time. A door in the kitchen leads directly into another attached 4-car garage and a wide snack counter separates the kitchen itself from an approximately 800-square foot family room/breakfast area. The adjacent state-of-the-art home theater done up by the sellers–a man who made some of his money selling aggressively banal “art” on cruise ships–like a god damn bordello with blood red shag carpeting, red and black patterned fabric-covered walls, carved wood pilasters and nine jet black recliner-style theater seats with built-in cup holders. We get the desire for decorative drama and a spot of cliché Hollywood glamor in a home movie theater, but lowerd have mercy, no. Three family bedrooms pinwheel around a playroom space and share three bathrooms in a separate wing off the kitchen/family room complex. The master suite occupies it’s own private wing at the opposite end of the house and includes a large bedroom and sitting area with built-in entertainment center, a wall of windows and French doors that open to a covered veranda, two bedroom-sized walk-in closets, a separate exercise room, and a super-sized beige marble bathroom with twin vanities, his and her enclosed crapper cubicles–hers has a bee-day too–and a jetted soaking tub for two and separate

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City’s Affordable Housing Initiative Spent Nearly $50 Million, Produced Nothing

November 17, 2011

Reporters Bob Porterfield and Jackie Ginley are exploring the financial challenges facing Hercules for The Huffington Post and Hercules Patch . Read their report on municipal utility spending here . HERCULES, Calif. — There are 918 names on ‘the list.’ People from every walk of life are on it, with one thing in common: They all wanted the chance to take advantage of affordable housing offers in the small city of Hercules. Many have been waiting more than five years for a call that would have given them entrée to sparkling new digs in Sycamore North , a $70 million mixed-use housing development in this struggling community of 24,000 residents northeast of San Francisco. They’re still on hold, waiting for a project that looms over a mostly barren downtown, its only occupant a security guard living in a small trailer. “It’s a bummer,” says Karla Bernal, a Hercules native who moved back home two years ago and was lured onto the list, looking to buy a condo she and her mother could afford. “It would be amazing, awesome, to be able to live there.” Bernal ended up moving to nearby Pinole , where she rents a home. Even Hercules has washed its hands of Sycamore North. After dumping $38 million into the project with no hope of raising another $30 million to finish it, the city began maneuvering in August to find some way to salvage it. Negotiations are underway with potential buyers, possibly at fire-sale prices , and Hercules is asking the state to extend $5 million in loans it made to help with construction. City Council members are now debating whether, through a sale, to scrap Sycamore North’s 76 affordable housing units and convert the entire residential portion of the project into market-rate condominiums or retail space. Whatever the outcome, city officials say they hope to have the Sycamore North problem resolved within a few weeks. State auditors and federal investigators now are trying to unravel what went wrong with the Hercules affordable housing program, Sycamore North and other redevelopment projects in the town. A key question will be how a financially strapped community committed more than $100 million to an affordable housing program and its related infrastructure, spending nearly $50 million before the money ran out — including $30.2 million on the affordable housing segment of Sycamore North and $17.9 million more on other projects and assistance to benefit low-income residents — without producing a single unit of affordable housing. Another question will be why Hercules’ biggest affordable housing advocate, former City Manager Nelson Oliva , embarked in 2005 upon a spree of borrowing, spending and building that has nearly bankrupted the town. City Hall today is almost as empty as Sycamore North, with the few remaining employees, a new City Council, new city manager and new city attorney left to clean up a mess not of their making . It will be a daunting task. The Huffington Post and Hercules Patch reviewed thousands of pages of public records in an attempt to follow the trail of taxpayer money spent on affordable housing and other redevelopment in Hercules, but couldn’t determine where all the money went. Affordable housing program records are in disarray or missing, and former city officials and employees who knew what was going on have either been fired, laid off because of budget cuts, hired lawyers or simply refused to talk about Sycamore North. Even the experts and consultants who advised the city or have strong opinions on what happened in Hercules won’t comment publicly, for fear they will be drawn into lawsuits or grilled by FBI agents who are methodically interviewing current and former city personnel. “It’s easy for me in hindsight to look at this and say it was a poorly conceived project that was poorly managed,” says Frank Fox, a Philadelphia developer that Hercules hired in February to sort out its real estate transactions. “Cities should not be in the development business.” CONTINUE READING ON HERCULES PATCH Here is the original post: City’s Affordable Housing Initiative Spent Nearly $50 Million, Produced Nothing

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Christina Patterson: It Wasn’t Just One Man Who Killed the King of Pop

November 10, 2011

When the verdict was announced, his sister shrieked. She sent a tweet to her 125,000 followers saying “VICTORY,” and ended it with seven exclamation marks. His fans waved their banners praising Jesus, and screamed, and wept, and blew horns. People said, while crying in front of cameras, that there had, at long last, been what their banners had demanded: “Justice for Michael!” His mother agreed. “I feel,” she told reporters, “better now.” Everyone seemed to. Everyone — apart, perhaps, from Conrad Murray, and his defense lawyers, and maybe some of the women who claimed to be his girlfriend, and maybe some of the mothers of some of his children — seemed to feel an awful lot better now. They seemed to think that although nothing could bring back the man they claimed to love so much, this was a very, very happy day. They seemed to feel like Michael Jackson’s mother, who couldn’t wait “to go home and share this day” with his children, and “couldn’t hold back tears of joy.” Everyone seemed to think that what had been a tragedy wasn’t any more. Because a man who was paid nearly £100,000 a month to give him the kind of drugs you can’t just pick up at Boots, had given him an awful lot of the kind of drugs you can’t pick up at Boots, and been so careless about it that he’d been chatting on the phone to a cocktail waitress while the man he was meant to be looking after was having a bad reaction to a drug you definitely can’t pick up at Boots, had been found guilty of killing him by accident. Or it wasn’t as much of a tragedy as it had been, because the person who caused it had been found and would be punished. Perhaps when these people heard that the most successful pop star in world history, who was not only a brilliant singer and songwriter, but also did some of the most athletic and original dancing ever done by a rock star, and who cared so much about his appearance that he made improving it into a life’s quest, was crippled with arthritis, and nearly blind, and had a toenail fungus so bad that doctors thought his flesh was rotting away, they thought this was a normal thing for a 50-year-old man. Maybe when they heard a recording of his voice, which was so weak and slurred that you could hardly make out the words, but which had sounded pretty good on the albums that almost everyone in the Western world had bought, they thought this was normal, too. And maybe not a single one of these people wondered what on earth had happened to his family, and the people he called his friends. Perhaps they thought it was normal to watch your brother, or son, or friend, have so many operations on his face that some people said some of the bones in it were in danger of collapsing, and that what you should say, when he came out of hospital from the latest one, was that he definitely looked better than before. Maybe they thought, when they heard he was paying someone nearly £100,000 a month, to give him drugs almost every doctor in the world would say he didn’t need, that this sounded like excellent value. And maybe when they heard another recording of the pop star in court, telling that doctor that he wanted to use the proceeds of the tour he was planning to help sick children, because he himself “didn’t have a childhood,” they just shrugged and thought “so what?” Maybe they thought that it didn’t really matter whether you had a childhood. That a childhood was a small thing to give up to produce the kind of music that the King of Pop produced, and a small price to pay for the fame he had. It isn’t all that easy to know what Michael Jackson’s family, friends and fans thought about any of these things, because, when they talk about him, they tend to talk as if he wasn’t a human being, but a god. His sister, La Toya, said on Monday that “victory was served” because her brother was, though technically dead, “in that courtroom.” She didn’t say what, if anything, she’d done when she’d watched her brother being flogged by their father for making mistakes in rehearsals throughout his childhood, and from the start of his singing career at the age of six. Nor did his mother. And nor, of course, did his father, who used, according to his son, to watch his sons rehearsing with a belt in his hand, and often told him that his nose was “too fat.” You’d have thought that sisters, and brothers, and parents, and friends, might think it wasn’t usually a good sign when someone built themselves a giant fun fair, and zoo, and named it after a fantasy land in a children’s book about a boy who never grows up. And that they might be a little bit worried when their best friends seemed to be prepubescent boys and a chimpanzee called Bubbles. But sisters, and brothers, and parents, and friends, didn’t seem too worried by any of this, or, if they were, they didn’t say so. They seemed to think that nothing could be strange in the life, and lifestyle, of someone who was very, very talented, and very, very successful, and very, very, very rich. They seemed to think that someone who was very talented, and very successful, and very rich should always do exactly what they wanted, even if what they wanted was to wreck their once-handsome face and body with plastic surgery and drugs. Michael Jackson called the drug that killed him “milk.” He never stopped seeking the props of the childhood he had lost. Perhaps when he looked at photos of that brown-skinned boy, with his big nose, big lips, and big smile, he saw a shadow of the person he once was, the person he’d paid doctors to wipe out. Perhaps he remembered a time before his life became a giant freak show. “Wasn’t nothing strange about your daddy,” Al Sharpton told Jackson’s children at his funeral. That, of course, was a lie, but what he said next was true. “It was strange,” he said, “what your daddy had to deal with. But he dealt with it anyway.” Yes, he dealt with it anyway: the parents who cared more about money and fame than that their son had a childhood, the brothers and sisters who were nearly as damaged as him, the people who said they were friends, but who only seemed to want to be sprinkled with his star dust, and the people — so many people — who just wanted his money. And a press poised for every new twist in the crazy carnival his life became. It was Conrad Murray’s defense lawyer who reminded jurors that “this is not a reality show, it’s reality.” Unfortunately, no one in Jackson’s sad, strange and shockingly friendless life, seemed to know the difference. Originally posted here: Christina Patterson: It Wasn’t Just One Man Who Killed the King of Pop

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Raw Police Video