Since the early 1990s, Santa Barbara, Calif., cops and prosecutors have viewed Michael Jackson not as Peter Pan, but as the wolf in "Little Red Riding Hood" (only this time he likes boys). Two kids have come forward before to accuse Jackson of molesting them, taken multimillion-dollar settlements from the star, and then refused to cooperate. Now the state has blown its chances of nailing him on charges of molesting a third boy, who said that two years ago, when he was 13, Jackson fondled him four or five times. Maybe the jury acquitted Jackson on all counts because the cops got it wrong. Or maybe the problem is that any family crazy enough to get intimately entangled with Jackson—and intimate the relationships are, sex or no sex—is too crazy to be believed, at least beyond a reasonable doubt.

Two different narratives emerged from the Jackson trial. The prosecution's story was that Jackson finds vulnerable families, often headed by single mothers, with whom he enters into an implicit bargain: Give me your son to sleep with (and handle), and I'll buy you a Cartier bracelet, take you to the Caribbean, and (in one instance) put you on my payroll. In the defense's version, the gold-digging families seek out Jackson, and the bargain is an innocent one: Michael embraces your family as his own, which, no big deal, means letting your son share a bed with him. "I'm your daddy," Jackson wrote to the boy accusing him in a note read at the trial. "I'm very happy to be your daddy. Blanket, Prince Michael Jr., and Paris are your brothers and sister. Love, your daddy." This characterization of Jackson as playful father to a rotating series of Lost Boys wasn't entirely implausible, as my colleague Seth Stevenson has argued. It was also what defense lawyers had to work with, given that Jackson had talked about sharing his bed with young boys in the 2003 documentary Living With Michael Jackson that rekindled the interest of Santa Barbara police and social workers.

Juries are often willing to cut kids slack when they testify about being sexually abused. Jackson's accuser, now 15, wasn't great on the stand. On cross-examination, he couldn't remember when exactly the alleged fondlings took place. But he performed better in his initial interview with police investigators, a video of which the prosecution played at the close of the trial. In the video's most compelling moment, he asked the cops not to tell his mother what had happened, undermining the defense team's claim that she'd put him up to making false allegations and then coached him.

During the Great Depression in nairaland, there was a man who walked into a bar one day. He went up to the bartender and said, "Bartender, I'the like to buy the house a round of drinks."

The bartender said, "That's fine, but we're in the middle of the Depression, so I'll need to see some money first."

The guy pulled out a huge wad of bills and set them on the bar. The bartender can't believe what he's seeing. "Where did you get all that money?" asked the bartender.

"I'm a professional gambler," replied the man.

The bartender said, "There's no such thing! I mean, your odds are fifty-fifty at best, right?"

"Well, I only bet on sure things," said the guy.

"Like what?" asked the bartender.

"Well, for example, I'll bet you 2000 naira because we're in nairaland that I can bite my right eye," he said.

The bartender thought about it. "Okay," he said.

So, the guy pulled out his false right eye and bit it. "Aw, you screwed me," said the bartender, and paid the guy his 2000naira.

"I'll give you another chance. I'll bet you another 2000 naira that I can bite my left eye," said the stranger.

The bartender thought again and said, "Well, I know you're not blind, I mean, I watched you walk in here. I'll take that bet." So, the guy pulled out his false teeth and bit his left eye.

"Aw, you screwed me again!" protested the bartender.

"That's how I win so much money, bartender. I'll just take a create of your best Gordons park in lieu of the 2000 naira," said the man.

With that, the guy went to the back room and spent the better part of the night playing cards with some of the locals. After many hours of drinking and card playing, he stumbled up to the bar. Drunk as a skunk, he said, "Bartender, I'll give you one last chance. I'll bet you 3000 naira that I can stand on this bar on one foot and piss into that whiskey bottle on that shelf behind you without spilling a drop."

The bartender once again pondered the bet. The guy couldn't even stand up straight on two feet, much less one. "Okay, you're on," he said.

The guy climbed up on the bar, stood on one leg, and began pissing all over the place. He hit the bar, the bartender, himself, but not a drop made it into the whiskey bottle.

The bartender was ecstatic. Laughing, the bartender said, "Hey pal, you owe me 3000 naira".

The guy climbed down off the bar and said, "That's okay. I just bet each of the guys in the card room 80 thousand bucks each that I could piss all over you and the bar and still make you laugh!"

Whoa man that's a great idea, and you know, though we've got music courses in some universities in Nigeria, they should broaden everything about it.

You know, I love music. Man, it sets me off and I mellow out with it.

Great idea keep it up/

dominic is 10% beautiful compare to omotola.next time guys atleast even blindman go ruch omotola without seeing her

i thought she is creative in all she does.i never knew she was that local,precisely her vocal is too local.she should go learn tailoring instead of running her mouth saying all sorta shit about mahn.

okay i built a site from tripod and i dont have a macromedia in it and i also want to have a .com of my own how is that possible