There is a verdict. Not guilty on all counts. Michael Jackson moonwalks.
We just watched the show, or listened to it on CNN. After the second not guilty, on a felony count that newsroom wags felt would tip which way the case was to go, Annette John-Hall started making these little noises, hands on her hips, walking backward: "do, do, DO, do."
Billie Jean is not my lover, indeed.
He walks. Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. All the way. "I'm afraid he's going to celebrate by seeing the plastic surgeon," a cynic mused. "He's going to have a big sleepover," said another. When the jury refused to find MJ guilty of pouring Jesus Juice to loosen up his young visitor, it became clear they didn't buy the case at all.
So, Wacko Jacko can go back to being famous, his full-time profession since he last made a spectacular song sometime in the last century. Meanwhile, what could celebrate the moment better than watching as Triumph the Insult Comic Dog visits the crowd outside the courtroom, asking just what is up with them.