MindBlogging: This Is It (the movie)

9:40PM, Outside the theater.

Is that Ben playing in the audio system? They're really going all out on this one huh.

Okay, I see lots of people outside the theater. This is the last full show. Why are there so many people? Somebody might recognize me.

Michael Jackson hat count: five. Fuck it, I'mma go get me popcorn.

Oh sweet. This popcorn can only be the best tribute to Michael. Overflowing pop inside a plastic container.

Okay, my sisters are screaming like crazy. I should have bought something else. Like a face mask. Or extra dignity.

9:45 Inside the theater.

Oh hey, trailers. I love trailers. They don't have Michael Jackson innit.

Fuck, New Moon. I've changed my mind. On with the movie.

Sisters are screaming again. I can feel parts of my soul silently shrinking.

This has got to be the longest "The Making Of" show I've ever seen.

Great, more commentaries from crusty white people and too-perky-to-be-normal black people.

So this kinda makes things more like "This Would've Been It" instead of "This Is It".

Michael Jackson is just so meticulous in everything. If I were one of these people, who rehearsed for months for a big fat nothing, I'd probably kill the doctor who OD'ed Jacko.

I will not make jokes about children appearing in this movie.

I will not make jokes about children appearing in this movie.

I will not make jokes about children appearing in this movie.

Sisters are screaming and clapping after every performance. The crowd's getting infected. I hear sporadic screaming too.

Michael Jackson started thanking everybody in his family but Janet Jackson. Does this mean the superbowl titty got her disowned?

Disowned by the weirdest person on earth. Wow that sucks.

To be fair, at 50 years old, Michael's in pretty good shape. But then again, plastic is supposed to last for hundreds of years before decaying.

Okay, my sister is staring at me. She can read my thoughts. I know it. I have to be careful. Rabid fans are deadlier than drunks.

More screaming. It's official. My sisters are now officially barred from mocking rabid Twilight fans. Forever.

There's a cute screaming MJ fan four rows above me. I wonder if she'll put out if I tell her I've seen the '96 concert.

On second thought, I'd rather stay here and try to recuperate what dignity I have left.

Out of popcorn. I'm on my own now. Damn it.

1 hour and 30 minutes. It's official, this shit is longer than the tribute we gave Mother Teresa.

Credit roll. Wow, the movie is actually over. My sisters are not leaving. The other fans are staying behind too.

This cannot be good. This cannot be good.

Okay, there's something else after the credits.

The whole theater is screaming now, including the fat chinese guy behidn me. I'm panicking. I'm panicking. I'm panicking.

False alarm. I need to urinate.

NOW.