Dear Celebrity Journalists:

I am old enough to remember Michael Jackson as a child. Heck, he and I were born within months of each other. I remember thinking that “Rockin’ Robin” was the best. song. ever. I didn’t follow his career too much. I don’t think I’ve even seen the Thriller music video. But I really, really like “The Way You Make Me Feel.” Classic.

But as MJ aged, I was sad, and then horrified, about how he was messing with his looks. (How he was messing up his life is so totally beyond the point at this stage of the game.) He was a great-looking kid. Some of his earlier renovation work on his nose even looked good. But somewhere in the nineties a line got crossed and I couldn’t bear to look anymore. In fact, I just now went to find some pictures online to link to illustrate where/when my stomach turned and I can’t bear to look, and I can’t bear to make you look.

So, please, Celebrity Magazine Publishers: Stop. Just stop. One more picture of that poor, sad, man with his detachable nose, fergawdsakes, and I will lose it. Or, if you must publish these abominations, not on the cover. Please. Or, if it’s just too juicy not to, put the damned magazine behind a little screen the way they do with Penthouse.

Because I would rather look at porn in the check out line at Walgreens than at poor little Michael Jackson’s sad, detachable nose.