OK. I actually have a few minutes to sneak on and write. I was supposed to be in a weekly planning meeting. Except that when I walked in the door of the meeting room (which now apparently doubles as storage space for the COO’s new mountain bike . . . I have to tell you about this guy some time. Unbelievable. Two words: Hair. Plugs.) and sat down with my legal pad, my boss says in front of about six people, “Uh . . . hey, uh . . . you know, if you need to be on the phone or something you don’t have to be here. You’re sort of a non-essential.” In the words of Carl Spackler, “So now I got that going for me.”

I figured I might as well write a post while everyone is in the meeting. Today’s Client Courtesy Calls (CCC’s) can wait.

So, lately I have noticed some amusing similarities between the careers of TO and Michael Jackson. Let’s take a short trip down memory lane, shall we?

For those of you under the age of about 22, there was a time when MJ sang music. (Yup . . . I’m not joking. Danced, too. And you know what? He used to be an African American male. No, I swear. Amazing, isn’t it?) In 1982 Jackson releases Thriller, which produced 7 hit singles and sells 50 million worldwide. He goes on to win 8 Grammies for the album, and was named Artist of the Decade. But in the early ‘90’s he started hanging out with Bubbles. Who, though the name might throw you off, was not a stripper, but was instead a ####. Even worse than sleeping with a primate, in ‘94, he married Lisa Marie Presley . . . The exceptional weirdness was becoming too difficult to ignore. Let’s pause to draw the parallel.

Let’s say TO’s coming out party was the 1998 playoff game with Green Bay. With three seconds left, and down by four, TO catches the go-ahead pass before getting laid out in the end zone. He was a hero. (Does anybody else remember this? After the game, the guy was crying like a depressed housewife. I mean, he was sobbing. It was really, really uncomfortable. This wasn’t “man crying at the end of “Field of Dreams” crying. This was blubbering. He was also praising God, praising his teammates, his coaches, etc. This happened. I promise.) But shortly after, the fun began. The 2000 Dallas game was where TO first made people say to their TV screens, “What the . . .?” This was the “out-of-no-where jaunt to the Cowboys’ star at midfield to celebrate the TD” game. Remember George Teague, anyone?

So we’ve set the stage. Let’s compare the similarities.

By 2000, TO and Jacko had both lost it. In 2000 Jacko went off with his anti-Semitic rants about Tonny Maltola, Sony Chairman (Jackson’s boss, per se). In 2001, TO accused then 49ers head coach Steve Mariucci of playing it soft on friend and fellow coach #### Jauran, insinuating that Mooch let the Bears come back from a 19 point deficit because he was friendly with their coach. Makes sense to me . . .

By 2002, Jacko is dangling babies off balconies. In 2002, TO gives the football the Sharpie treatment after a Monday Night score vs. the Seahawks. By 2004 Jacko had split with Sony. By 2004, TO had split with the Niners (and with Baltimore, I guess, though I am not sure you can split with a team without actually playing for them . . . hmm), which lead to the signing with the Eagles, which lead to this season’s fiasco.

But the similarities don’t stop there. (I know, you were hoping they had.) Best I can tell, MJ is sort of in exile. In Bahrain, nonetheless. Guys got no friends and he is hitting up the Bahrainian prince for cash to settle his debts. Weird. Even for Jacko.

TO is in exile, as well. And shockingly, it seems he has less friends than MJ. Though the AP story seemed to report it differently, the word is that TO threw a birthday party for himself, inviting names such as Jay-Z, 50 Cent, Oprah, and Derek Jeter. Invites the media to cover the “red carpet.” Except that no one showed up. No one. One reporter says the club was half empty. The only “celebrities” that came were his teammates. And Jevon Kearse was the biggest name. TO throws a party for himself and no one comes. And TO was once a star. Like, last year. At least Jacko used to have people come to his parties . . . though I guess 12 year old boys wouldn’t count as celebrities either (insert McCauley Culkin joke here).

So the real kicker is this: do you remember the first time you said to yourself, “Yeah . . . Jacko is a looney tune”? While it was probably dangling the baby off the balcony, you have a lot of fodder to choose from. The point is that the day I saw TO doing the press conference from his driveway crunch-rack, I knew he had lost it. And while we as a culture cut crazy celebs some slack every now and again, we all have our breaking points. (Hmmm . . . just thought of some interesting Drew Rosenhaus-Elizabeth Taylor comparisons . . . later).

Unlike Jacko, TO might can still redeem himself . . . While no one wants to watch a white, black guy flit around the stage in loafers and a Bedazzled golf glove, there seems to be somewhat of a market for one of the best receivers in the most popular sport in the country. TO can and probably will be back.

OK. Got to wrap this one up. Just heard the “Simpleton Summit” break up. I’ll try and get on later.