Following the discovery of inconsistencies surrounding the death of Michael Jackson, police are said to be seeking good times, sunshine, moonlight and the boogie for questioning.

After reports suggested that Jackson was jacked up on morphine which may have been the cause of his fatal heart attack, it seems the investigation into his death has turned into a murder case.

It has been claimed that police are now looking to Jackson’s song lyrics for clues as to who may have wanted the be-gloved kiddy fiddler dead, and are particularly focused on the the following rhyme:

Don’t blame it on the sunshine
Don’t blame it on the moonlight
Don’t blame it on the good times
Blame it on the boogie

However L.A. Police spokesperson, Ron Artete said yesterday, “Michael Jackson is a prime example of how being incredibly rich and famous can allow you to live with an undiagnosed and untreated mental illness. We will not be focusing on anything he said in any of his ridiculous songs twenty years ago but rather on the terrible stuff he has done since then.”

Whilst some are debating whether these mysterious characters are responsible for Jackson’s death, Fox news are still blaming pills, whilst CNN said it was because he was black and that they die around this age.

Now that the sentimental dust has settled in the maelstrom of sycophantic and hypocritical shmaltz that the media love-in with Jackson has been for the last 24 hours, the knives are now out as they seek to tear down his name in a manner in which they hope will at least provide a stay of execution for print media outlets.

Fans of the once-superstar are crying foul, and have gone as far as setting up a Facebook group and getting people to unfollow Perez Hilton on Twitter.

A spokesperson for the Jackson fangroup ‘What We Would Give to Have Been Jordan Chandler’ said yesterday, “He was a great man who just wanted to be left alone. He had such a hard public life, but he was really a kind soul.
If we all change the color of our Twitter icons, I think we can bring Michael back to life.”

You’d think hanging out with Gary Coleman, a monkey and hordes of pre-pubscent children would have afforded the King of Pop a lesser degree of public scrutiny.