Land of Milk and Money



Dan Reid and the Finding Neverland cast contemplate Michael Jackson’s ring.

By Ben Pensant

Knowledge is valuable. It wins arguments, defeats enemies, and gifts modern leftists an arsenal of truth-bombs in the fight against fascism, such as “Transwomen are women”, “Jeremy has battled racism his whole life”, and “Leave voters are uneducated morons with hands for feet”.

Sadly, for every good piece of knowledge there’s a bad one that destroys everything progressives pretend to treasure, like “People with PHDs voted for Brexit”, “The anti-racist Labour leader has spent his career supporting racists”, and “A bearded plumber who thinks he’s a woman is as ‘female’ as a plant-pot in knickers”.

But the most noxious dollop of knowledge to stink up 2019 peaked in March, reappearing last month via a crudely-doctored YouTube film. Yes, I’m talking about the scandalously true rumour that heart-breaking Michael Jackson doc Finding Neverland has all the journalistic integrity of a National Examiner scoop by Johann Hairy.

To be fair, the film omits so much info about Jimmy Robson and Wade Safechuck you’d be forgiven for thinking director Dan Reid had something to hide. Fortunately, to know he concealed important details casting huge doubts on Robson and Safechuck’s credibility, you’d have to know there were important details casting huge doubts on Robson and Safechuck’s credibility. And as anyone who’s read an FN Twitter thread knows, people who are utterly convinced by the film usually know as much about Jackson’s accusers as I do about quantum mechanics. Indeed, it seems most viewers’ experienced FN the following way: Watched film. Signalled disgust on social media. Forgot about film, safe in the knowledge that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Michael Jackson fucked little boys.

Even when Jackson was black he couldn’t hide the monster within.

That none of the allegations were corroborated is irrelevant, as are the film’s glaring inconsistencies, illogical scenarios, and demonstrable lies. Because unless you’d spent an hour researching them you’d have no idea there were any glaring inconsistencies, illogical scenarios, and demonstrable lies. And for god’s sake, it’s 2019: if a man says a celebrity finger-banged his arsehole, a celebrity finger-banged his arsehole.

Still, despite widespread refusal to investigate the full story, a small army of MJ-obsessives, paedo-apologists, and weirdos who believe in due process have started playing dirty. Their sneaky MO involves flooding the net with all manner of sworn statements, court transcripts, and grubby propaganda videos proving conclusively that Robson and Safechuck have a long history of telling wildly contrasting stories depending on who they were talking to and how much money was on offer.

Much of this ‘evidence’ concerns the lawsuits they’ve been filing against the Jackson estate for six years. Unsurprisingly they all failed thanks to the sinister influence of the dead singer’s empire, and nothing whatsoever to do with the unreliability of the complainants. Thankfully, most viewers know nothing of these lawsuits as Reid wisely avoids mentioning them. But that hasn’t deterred the nonce-lovers, whose most recent half-hour hit-job included a 2016 deposition video featuring Robson admitting to perjury and contradicting himself by giving a description of the first time Jackson abused him vastly different to the version he recounts in Finding Neverland.

I’ll spare you the sickening details. The film and others like it are on YouTube: you can ignore them for yourself like everyone else has. Suffice to say, as well as being narrated by a robot, it makes several shocking claims about the two men, each more shamefully factual than the last.

Sticking the boot into Safechuck from the get-go, it rubbishes his story about Wacko abusing him in a train station on Nevermind Ranch early on in their relationship – which lasted from 1988 to 1992 – on the flimsy grounds that the station wasn’t built until 1994.

Jesus, where to begin? Well first of all, there is ZERO evidence that the station was built that year, apart from time-stamped photographs, time-stamped video, and time-stamped construction permits, all of which were clearly doctored by Jackson’s crack team of Zionist lawyers.

Secondly, as Dan Reid eventually conceded (after initially accusing the Jacksons of lying about the year the station was completed): “Yeah, there seems to be no doubt about the station date. The date they have wrong is the end of the abuse”. Which makes perfect sense, if you ignore the fact that to suggest the abuse ended years later than Safechuck claimed in FN completely undermines its key narrative: that Jackson cut off contact with the boys as they matured because he didn’t fancy them anymore.

Sad Safechuck emerges from his fateful visit to the time-travelling train station.

Thankfully, this is easy to ignore. All you need to do is convince yourself it’s entirely possible Safechuck got mixed up between his prepubescent and 16-year-old selves, and that two/three/four/five/six years after Wacko shunned his victim, he temporarily forgot he was a paedophile and invited a older, taller, hairier Safechuck back to his lair for one last fiddle. Simple.

The film then sinks even lower by claiming a key FN sequence  – where Safechuck horrifies Guardian and Sun-readers alike by producing a ‘wedding ring’ Jackson gave him – was filmed eighteen months after the rest of the interview. Predictably, the MJ-cult accused Reid of audience manipulation, a charge they also levelled at him for including footage of Jackson’s lawyer Mick Geragos threatening the singer’s accusers, when in actual fact Geragos was talking about an airline company who secretly filmed Wacko on a private jet. That’s right, apparently documentarians are now required to tell the whole story, as if Bowling For Columbus auteur Michael Moore’s entire career never existed. Unbelievable.

They even accused Safechuck of lying when he claimed Wacko tried to bully him into testifying at his 2005 trial, despite the fact that the judge had already decided not to call Safechuck. It shows how demented these crazies are that they think this illustrates Safechuck’s dishonesty rather than the Jackson team’s penchant for mind-games and bribery.

The YouTube flick also laughs in the faces of survivors by mocking the timing of Safechuck’s realisation that he was abused by Mr. Creepyface, a memory which suddenly came back to him when he saw Robson on telly in 2013, not long after learning his parents were facing financial ruin due to ripping off their company’s shareholders for millions. Yep, the MJ cult actually believe there’s something suspicious about a broken man recalling with pin-sharp clarity a six-year ordeal that he completely forgot about until he was 35 and his family were about to go bankrupt.

They also claim Safechuck is untrustworthy because, despite saying in a sworn statement that he didn’t remember he’d been abused until 2013, he also said he’d told his mother about it in 2005. Indeed, Ma Safechuck claimed she was so happy when she heard about Jackson’s death that she danced. All of which sounds perfectly reasonable but not to the trolls. So they accused Safechuck of lying again after he appeared on Oprah! in February, his story having changed once more as he went back to saying he didn’t remember the abuse until 2013. That these losers think this proves his duplicity illustrates their ignorance of the confusing impact grooming has on victims, especially ones who can’t lie straight in bed.

But if you think the MJ-cult have it in for Safechuck, wait ’til you see their vendetta against Mr. Robson. One of their batshit theories concerns Robson’s claim – made in both Finding Neverland and his unpublished misery memoir – that Jackson first abused him at the Nevermind Ranch while his parents and siblings were at the Grand Kenyon, an incident he is on records as saying he “never forgot one moment” of. However, during a 2016 deposition months before FN was filmed he appeared to have forgotten several moments as he was asked about the memoir’s version of events and replied that he couldn’t remember when he was first abused. This is further complicated by two separate sworn statements from Robson’s mother which stated he was never alone at the ranch until 1993 and the whole family went on the Arizona trip.

Vile Jackson, the definition of white privilege.

On the surface this suggests the Robsons are incapable of keeping their story straight and making stuff up as they go along. Indeed, according to email records the aforementioned manuscript appears to have been cobbled together from news reports about the porcelain-faced ghoul’s previous victims. However, only someone devoid of critical thinking skills would make such an idiotic judgement. Because Robson’s ever-evolving story demonstrates how the abuse he suffered damaged him so much he’s incapable of remembering it. Or at least he was, until he recalled it perfectly in Finding Neverland.

Luckily, unsuccessfully hawking his painful memoir to uninterested publishers in 2012 had a profound effect on Robson, who used the setback as a catalyst to finally let the world know the truth about Jackson. Via a privately filed $1.5billion lawsuit. Needless to say, trolls suggest this proves Robson is only out for money, pointing to his earlier failure to land a big-money gig choreographing a Jackson estate-produced Cirque Du Solero musical featuring Wacko’s music, a crushing blow which just happened to come not long before Robson decided to write his book.

This cruel rejection exposes the Jackson estate’s determination to punish his victims, taking the same sadistic glee in destroying their dreams as the depraved pop star did in forcing them to wank him off. Happily, their plan backfired, as the combined effect of losing a potentially lucrative job finally made the precocious dancer remember he’d been abused.

Not that that stopped the MJ-cult. The latest YouTube film delights in assassinating his character, focussing on Robson’s appearance at Wacko’s 2005 trial, in which he confidently faced down three prosecution attorneys as he stated unequivocally that Jackson was innocent.

Of course, we know fine well that Robson only testified because he was forced to. As explained in FN, he had no choice but to give evidence as he’d been subpoenaed. Naturally, Robson has never produced this subpoena and the office who would’ve served it have no record of it either, which is both deeply suspicious and completely irrelevant. That a terrified Robson still took the stand to lie so convincingly demonstrates the mortal fear instilled in him by a filthy rich – and filthier fingered – pop star.

Fighting tears, brave Robson entertains his ‘I Was Nailed By Jacko’ support group.

All of which makes the cathartic FN sequence when Robson burns his collection of MJ memorabilia so uplifting. Needless to say, the apologists declared the scene a sham as he’d flogged the collection on an upmarket auction site years earlier. They even attacked him for selling the items anonymously, as if withholding your name from the public while purging a lifetime of trauma is a bad thing. The fact that he netted a tidy sum before symbolically burning the collection he didn’t own seven years later is neither her nor there.

Indeed, selling valuable tat isn’t the only thing Robson did on the quiet: his original lawsuit was filed under seal – ie non-publicly. Which is entirely understandable, and in no way devalues his claim that he filed the suit to raise awareness of child abuse. Nor does it support the fallacious theory that the reason the accounts detailed within are completely different to those outlined in FN is because he assumed the Jackson estate would simply hand over the money and no sod would ever hear them.

Sadly, while Robson and Safechuck have successfully fooled the world and kept the trolls at bay, they’re not the only ones in the firing line: the MJ-cult are gunning for Jackson’s other victims too. Luckily, lack of knowledge about the Geordie Chandler and Gary Arvizo cases is even more ubiquitous than ignorance of Safechuck and Robson.

Indeed, to this day the $25m payout to the Chandler family is seen as proof of Jackson’s guilt, despite evidence that he was forced to make the settlement in order to avoid a civil hearing which would’ve prejudiced the criminal trial scheduled to take place afterwards. That Geordie decided he didn’t want to participate in said criminal case once his family had pocketed the money is largely unknown, as is the fact that a grand jury had already ruled there was insufficient evidence to proceed.

Similarly, most people are completely unaware that Geordie’s dad Evian – a Hollywood hanger-on who committed suicide in 2009 – was recorded all-but confessing his plans to fleece Wacko for millions. And even fewer know that Geordie was legally emancipated from his mother a year after the trial and obtained a restraining order against his father after he tried to kill him with a barbell.

Likewise, it’s vital to know as little about the Arvizo family and the farcical 2005 trial as possible. Indeed, the only relevant facts about the car-crash court case are a) it happened and b) Jackson won. Minor details, such as how multiple members of the Arvizo clan descended upon the Nevermind Ranch, stayed for months, then accused Wacko of child abuse after they were asked to leave, are unimportant. Ditto the fact that Arvizo’s mother only pursued the criminal charges because her lawyers told her she had to secure a conviction before she could launch a bumper civil suit.

Very little is known about the actual proceedings either, which heard zero evidence of Jackson’s guilt, saw witness after witness thoroughly discredited, and were largely ignored by the media who chose to report on the lurid details of the allegations rather what actually happened in court.

Fortunately most of these easy-to-find details are largely unknown thanks to the press maintaining a 14-year de facto news blackout to preserve the bankable narrative that Jackson is a paedophile. And what a blackout it’s been, the same people who bemoan tabloid gossip and ‘fake news’ swallowing it wholesale, unaware that this narrative only exists because it generates more clicks than boring puff-pieces about how his accusers are full of shit.

Even better, it’s now reached the stage where the media know fine well the accusations are rubbish but won’t report it because that would be an admission of complicity. Perfect! I rarely have anything good to say about the press but the way they contributed to Jackson spending the best part of twenty years denying he was a child-molester is something they can all be proud of. And we should never forget the key role the allegations played in Jackson’s growing addiction to prescription drugs, such as the infamous ‘milk’ that killed him. It just goes to show what the media can achieve when it puts a shift in.

Unfortunately, despite keeping the truth under wraps there will always be smug contrarians who insist on arguing Wacko’s innocence, arrogantly declaring themselves ‘experts’ on the allegations just because they’ve studied them.

A ‘harmless’ photo of a vulnerable child seized from under Jackson’s bed.

So when you inform them child porn was found in the predator’s home they respond with a shaggy bull story about how the sick stash was actually a few harmless, entirely legal photography books, freely available from Amazon and stored unopened in Jackson’s house with an assortment of junk he’d bought and forgotten about.

Yep, that’s right: because this tall-tale is backed up by court transcripts it’s somehow more reliable than the frontpage of The Scum. Also, according to the apologists the fact that the books were sealed proves Jackson never looked at them, when actually it’s clear he kept replacing them because the pages were stuck together with Jesus Juice. The fact that the only actual pornographic items found were a few legal scruff mags like Rustler is irrelevant.

As is Dan Reid’s omission of Robson’s seven-year relationship with Jackson’s niece. And the repeatedly debunked claim that Geordie Chandler ‘accurately described’ the Thriller-Killer perv’s penis. And the barely known but demonstrably true fact that every one of Wacko’s accusers initially went to lawyers rather than the police. All of the above – and indeed anything casting doubt on Wade and Jimmy – has no bearing on Jackson’s guilt or innocence.

Which is why it’s vital leftists carry on doing the decent thing, Believing Victims, and watching out for right-wing trolls turning our wokeness against us. So ignore anyone who points out the hypocrisy of people who bang on about ‘white privilege’ willingly taking the word of two white men with a shared history of perjury over an African-American found unanimously not guilty 14 years ago.

Give short shrift to people who attack liberals for condemning harassment of minorities while indulging a media that relentlessly harassed a black man because he was an odball who looked funny.

And respond with an ‘up yours, Savile-chops!’ to those who suggests calling Jackson defenders ‘conspiracy theorists’ is a bit rich considering the #JackoWasANonce crowd believe the reason the multi-platinum monster evaded jail was because his crooked lawyers paid off judges, hobbled witnesses, and dazzled the jury with their client’s fame, fortune, and penchant for moonwalking into court with a monkey on his shoulder. (Heaven knows what foul depravities poor Pebbles was subjected to.)

Dave Shapiro reminisces about that time Jackson fucked a toddler.

Luckily, judging by the reaction to self-hating black man Dave Shapiro’s latest ‘special’, it seems unwillingness to learn basic facts about the Jackson allegations remains widespread. Indeed, while his awful show was a huge hit in the Real World, it went down like a bucket of sick in Internetland, with almost ten writers for principled clickbait sites like Buzzkill penning savage reviews of the hour-long hate-fest, delivering a huge ‘screw you!’ to the alt-right bigots who gerrymandered a 99% rating on Netflicks. It seems not believing those motherfuckers has done wonders for your brand, baldy.

To compound the shitty special’s failure, I suggest you follow my lead and refuse to watch it. Because we know its transphobic, we know it’s misogynist, we know it spreads disgusting rumours about the two most fragile men on earth. What would watching it achieve, other than confirming what we already know about this POC-turned-SOB? Dave might as well bleach his skin like Wacko and stop pretending to be a brother altogether. Brother? He’s barely a sister.

Conversely, Robson and Safechuck are blacker than Shapiro will ever be. And if one good thing has come from his offensive routine it’s the empowerment of people who are 100% certain Jackson is guilty despite knowing as much about the allegations as they do about animal husbandry. As former songwriting genius Mick Kozelek sang of Wacko on one of his recent unlistenable albums: “He’s bad, he’s bad/He’s dead, and I’m glad”. Now THAT’S knowledge.

Anyway, I must dash. There are some ugly rumours circulating on Twitter about the dubious conviction of misogynist golfer Jeff Boycott which I intend to spend the next few hours avoiding.




As well as the dreafdul films ‘Lies Of Leaving Neverland’, ‘Leaving Neverland: The Aftermath’, and ‘Michael Jackson: Chase The Truth’, many of the inconvenient facts compiled above were sourced from a variety of books, reports, articles, investigations, and in-depth social media threads written by so-called journalists Charles Thompson, John Ziegler, Mike Smallcombe, Damien Shields, Joe Vogel, and Ryan Michaels; Twitter accounts ThinkFathers, VP_Advocacy, Leaving Neverland Facts, and Justice For The Falsely Accused; and a whole host of other deluded MJ apologists who think a person’s guilt or innocence should be determined by the legal process rather than a brazenly one-sided documentary. I take the threat posed by these lunatics VERY seriously – I’ve spelled their names right and everything – and so should you. I urge you to mute, block, report, stalk, harass, or threaten them immediately. And whatever you do, don’t even THINK about reading a single syllable of their deeply immoral ‘research’. 


Jacko’s a kiddy-fiddler. Pass it on.






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