"Can Justin Timberlake just put out an album of Jacksons covers? We mean all the Jackson songs — Michael, Janet, Jackson 5, all of them. It would be outstanding, and he (and his band!) already know all the appropriate moves." -Lindsey Weber, VultureFor the record, a Black person would never need, want, say, or think such a thing.
And second, watch:
So far, we have refrained from burning his career down.
You are welcome, sir.
We, the Keepers of The Cool, have allowed him to spin and bop and 5,6,7,8 and ooooh-yeeeeah and let his little faux soul light shine long enough for him to be surprisingly adept at Convenient WhiteBlackness, a skill first honed in the aftermath of Superbowl 2004. As you know, he abandoned "longtime friend" Saint Damita Jo Jackson, the Patron Saint of Perfection, the same woman who gave a then practically unheard-of 'N SYNC a major boost by taking them on the road as part of her "Velvet Rope Tour," and who 'N SYNC had just honored as the inaugural MTV Icon a few short years prior. He'd ventured out too deep in the waters of Lake Blackness and opted for that which never lets them down: the White Life Jacket. Sorry Janet.
More recently, he took part in the biggest televised Convenient WhiteBlackness circle jerk to date--The 2013 MTV VMAs--alongside other famed blackness cherry-pickers Miley Cyrus, Robin Thicke, and Macklemore (who, despite the name, I've recently discovered, is not in fact a rapping fish). There, Justin was presented the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award. He obviously viewed this as the 10th punch on his Black Card, unlocking Bonus Level Blackness, which has been known to embolden its user to aspire to heightened levels of White Coonery. It is at this level when uncolored persons have reported feeling accepted enough to offer to make THE potato salad and join in the Electric Slide at Colored gatherings and/or refer to loved ones, regardless of color, as their "niggas."
Anyhow, I say all of that to say this:
While JT is generally tolerable provided there are dancers and sangin', groovin', and two-steppin' ass Blacks behind him, one of his appropriation-approving Black friends needs to take the wheel and steer the Motherfucker PleaseMobile safely back into the appropriate lane.
He's been allowed to frolic freely as Diet Michael, the empowered part-time impersonator lucky that nobody has ever peeped the counterfeit tags on his Groove. Pulling references, ideas, and rejected albums from Him: safe. "No feelings were harmed in the making of this fake Black song," and shit like that. Similar to how you treat your uncle who's on "that stuff": Ruin YOUR shit, but don't come around here trying to sell Big Mama's couch and fuck up her good credit, scumbag. That's YOUR own, private shit show. Keep your tragedy to yourself, playboy. All ultimately harmless, really.
But a cover of "Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground)?" With the actual choreo? With that soul-free wax paper voice of his?
Bitch, have some decorum.