BY: DAIMAN TEER for THE SIMPLETON STAR
NOTE: If you pay money to rent or see The Devil Wears Prada 2 = YOU ARE GROOMER-ADJACENT.
I’m absolutely sick and tired of the endless Hollywood sob stories. Sick of the carefully crafted documentaries that paint predators as tragic victims. Sick of the fans and celebrities still rushing to defend the indefensible while real victims get labeled liars and gold-diggers.
The duplicity is disgusting, and I’m not going to be nice about it.
Let’s start with Michael Jackson. The man was no fragile Peter Pan figure tragically broken by fame as he has been depicted by the groomers of Hollywood. He was a wealthy, powerful monster who surrounded himself with young boys, hosted them for sleepovers at Neverland, and lived a life that screamed red flags to anyone paying attention.
Police raids turned up entire rooms filled with soft porn books and magazines focused on nude and semi-nude young boys — the kind of “art” collections that normal people don’t keep lying around when little boys are sleeping over. Security guards and former staff came forward and testified they saw Jackson with his hands down boys’ pants, including with Macaulay Culkin.Yet when the 2005 trial came around, Culkin sat on the stand as a star defense witness and swore under oath that “nothing happened.”
Sorry but I don’t fully believe it. Culkin had a massive film career ahead of him and a back class of a mega-child-star with a legacy to protect. Telling the truth would have forever turned him into “the boy Michael Jackson molested” and destroyed his marketability. So he lied? He protected the monster, and kept his future intact?
Was the security guard who saw Jackson’s hand down Culkin’s pants telling the truth? Were the employees who witnessed the grooming telling the truth?
You know what told the truth? The pattern told the truth.
But money, fame, and career ambition won the day.The jury acquitted Jackson on all counts in June 2005. Perhaps the cancer kid at the center of the case, Gavin Arvizo, watched a guilty man walk free.
Four years later, in June 2009, the drugs finally caught up with Jackson. He died from acute propofol intoxication – hospital-grade anesthesia being pumped into him at home every night so he could sleep. His doctor, Conrad Murray, was doing exactly what celebrity doctors do when a client is paying ridiculous money: giving the superstar whatever the hell he wanted.
No proper monitoring, no real care, just enabling. And still the excuses flood in from fans and media: “It was the Pepsi fire,” “He never had a childhood,” “He was lonely,” “They murdered him.” Absolute bullshit. Jackson was a grown adult with unlimited resources who chose to live like a class-A creeper junkie while surrounding himself with other people’s children.
He wasn’t murdered. He was coddled to death by the same sick machine that protected him for decades.
This is Hollywood’s pedophile protection racket in full disgusting display.
Nobody embodies the twisted hypocrisy better than Roman Polanski and his Hollywood cheerleaders. This animal drugged a 13-year-old girl with champagne and Quaalude, then raped her — oral, vaginal, and anal — while she repeatedly said no. He pleaded guilty, then fled the United States like the coward he is to avoid real prison time. France happily sheltered him. The film world kept honoring him.
In 2003, when Polanski won the Oscar for The Pianist, the entire audience, including Meryl Streep, rose to their feet and gave that convicted child rapist a standing ovation. Think about that for a second. They clapped and cheered for a man who sodomized a 13-year-old child.When Swiss authorities briefly arrested him years later on a U.S. warrant, Streep and over a hundred other Hollywood elites publicly whined about how sorry they were that he was in jail and demanded his immediate release. “He’s suffered enough,” they claimed. “It was a different time.”
The same crowd that lectures the rest of the world about morality and protecting women and children suddenly turns into defenders of a fugitive pedophile because he makes “important cinema.”
Imagine if Donald Trump had done the exact same thing – fled the country after raping and beating a 13-year-old girl. Meryl Streep and her Hollywood friends would be leading the protests, screaming on every late-night talk show, funding documentaries, and calling it the ultimate proof that civilization was collapsing. They would never stop talking about it. But when it’s one of their own protected club members? Suddenly it’s “separate the art from the artist” and “he’s a genius.”
The rank hypocrisy makes me want to vomit.This is what I loathe more than anything about these people. The selective outrage. The insider protection club. The way money, talent, and the right connections buy you a permanent exemption from basic human decency. They will destroy ordinary people’s lives over old tweets or wrongthink, but they roll out the red carpet and give standing ovations to actual child rapists and predators.
They platform Michael Jackson tributes that paint him as a misunderstood child at heart while ignoring the mountain of smoke, flames, and burnt bodies surrounding his behavior with boys. It’s not about justice. It’s not about protecting the innocent. It’s about power, status, and staying in the club.
I’m done pretending there’s any moral high ground here. Jackson was a monster who preyed on boys and got away with it because of his fame. Polanski is a monster who raped a child and got lifetime protection from the industry. Meryl Streep and the rest of them are willing participants in the protection racket. The beautiful people on the red carpets, the ones who lecture us about compassion and human rights, are the same ones enabling and celebrating the worst crimes against children.
The patterns are undeniable. The eyewitness accounts, the semi-nude boy books, the sleepovers, the settlements, the fleeing the country, the standing ovations — none of it lies. The only ones lying are the Hollywood elite and their brainwashed fans desperate to protect their idols.
At the end of all this filth and hypocrisy, I turn to the one standard that doesn’t bend for money, fame, or Oscars.
A SIMPLE BIBLE VERSE:
Matthew 18:6 — “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.
WHY I CHOSE THIS VERSE:
I chose this verse because it is Jesus Christ Himself delivering a direct, brutal warning about the protection of children. There are no loopholes for artistic geniuses. No excuses about rough childhoods. No “separate the art from the artist” cop-outs. Just pure, terrifying judgment for anyone who harms or causes little ones to stumble. Hollywood’s elite, the Jackson defenders, the Polanski ovation crowd, and every hypocrite who enables this sickness need to read it and understand exactly where they stand.
A PRAYER
Lord, protect the children that the powerful prey upon. Expose the hypocrites who shield monsters while preaching to the rest of us. Give courage to those who know the truth but stay silent out of fear or self-interest. Judge righteously those who harm the innocent, and grant real justice — not the fake Hollywood version — to every victim. Keep my eyes clear and my words sharp against the lies. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
