Mr. Mannerz can remember the first time he was privy to the sounds of the King of Pop. Two words: Epcot Center. Two more words: Captain EO. Picture it: Disney theme park in Orlando. 1987. Young boy-about-town visiting his senile grandmother at her retirement village in Kissimee, Florida. He convinces her to take him on her church trip to the house that Mickey built. But because he wants bigger, more intellectual thrills than the Magic Kingdom has to offer, he opts for Epcot Center.
For the most part, I was bored out of my mind with the attractions at the park. But then came the gloved one. I can't remember much of the film—lots of George Lucasy types of laser beams and zingy sound effects. It wasn't Star Wars...hell, it wasn't even Roller Boogie, but Mr. Jackson left an indelible mark on Mr. Mannerz.
Mr. Jackson, you will be remembered for your orginal style, you wonderful loafers, marvelous sequined gloves, beautiful afro, juicy Jheri curl, and (un)believable lace front weave. No one will ever be able to replace you: not Justin, Usher, Neyo, or your nephews 3T. You were one in a million Miguel. Mr. Mannerz loves you forever and always.
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