A friend of mine once called it Elvis Disease. Occasionally an individual will become so powerful, that he forgets he is mortal. (It’s what happened to Marlon Brando’s character in “Apocalypse Now.“) Because when a human becomes so important that people confuse him with a god, he might start believing it himself.
When Elvis came out of the dressing room for the first time in that sequined white jumpsuit with elephant bells, high collar, and a matching cape, he asked the people he thought were friends, “Ahh , what d’yall think? Ahh picked it for my Hawaii show…”

But everyone lied, and told him that he looked great. He didn’t really have any friends. Just a handful of people making an incredible amount of money working at Elvis Inc. So nobody stood up to him. When a man gets surrounded by a phalanx of assistants, groomers, managers, agents and other members of the entourage whose job it is to tell him how great he is –these things happen.
Michael Jackson suffered from the same affliction. Nobody had the nerve to tell Michael that he shouldn’t be sleeping with little boys, so it continued. If you remember the Martin Bashir documentary, he was very adamant about his proclivities with those beautiful little boys: “Why can’t you share your bed? That’s the most loving thing to do, to share your bed with someone…” (more…)
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