Michael Jackson passed away in June 2009 due to cardiac arrest caused by an accidental drug overdose, leaving behind three children: Paris, Blanket (also known as “Bigi”), and Prince Jackson. On August 29, 2023, which would have been their late father’s 65th birthday,
Blanket and Prince were seen in Las Vegas after attending the “Michael Jackson ONE” show by Cirque du Soleil at Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino. Paris, the third sibling, was on tour with the rock band Incubus.
Prince, in blue jeans and a gray T-shirt, engaged with fans, receiving a drawing of Michael and returning the gesture with a hug. Blanket, rarely seen in public, wore black attire, and fans noted his resemblance to Michael.
During a TV interview in 2021, Blanket, also known as Prince Michael Jackson II, expressed his passion for environmentalism and urged people to address climate change.
Born on February 21, 2002, via surrogate, Blanket is the only biological child of Michael Jackson. Reports suggest that a Mexican nurse named Helena served as the surrogate, chosen by Michael, with a separate egg donor. At Prince’s Thriller Night Halloween Party in 2021,
Blanket highlighted the historical significance of their home and studio, reflecting his father’s essence. He emphasized the family’s desire to create things for people’s enjoyment and benefit.
Having no plans to pursue a musical career like his father, Blanket maintains a low profile and resides in Calabasas, California, in a house purchased in March 2020.
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My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
My neighbor’s undergarments became the unlikely stars of a suburban show, taking center stage right outside my 8-year-old son’s window. When Jake innocently asked if her thongs were some kind of slingshots, I knew the “panty parade” had to stop, and it was time for a lesson in laundry discretion.
Ah, suburbia—where the lawns are pristine, the air smells of fresh-cut grass, and life rolls along smoothly until someone comes along to shake things up. That’s when Lisa, our new neighbor, arrived. Life had been relatively peaceful until laundry day revealed something I wasn’t prepared for: a rainbow of her underwear flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a questionable parade.One afternoon, I was folding Jake’s superhero underwear when I glanced out the window and almost choked on my coffee. There they were: hot pink, lacy, and very much on display. My son, ever curious, peered over my shoulder and asked the dreaded question, “Mom, why does Mrs. Lisa have her underwear outside? And why do some of them have strings? Are they for her pet hamster?”
Between stifled laughter and mortified disbelief, I did my best to explain. But Jake’s imagination was running wild, wondering if Mrs. Lisa was secretly a superhero,with underwear designed for aerodynamics. He even wanted to join in, suggesting his Captain America boxers could hang next to her “crime-fighting gear.” It became a daily routine—Lisa’s laundry would wave in the breeze, and Jake’s curiosity would stir. But when he asked if he could hang his own underwear next to hers, I knew it was time to put an end to this spectacle. So, I marched over to her house, ready to resolve the situation diplomatically. Lisa answered the door, and before I could say much, she made it clear she wasn’t about to change her laundry habits for anyone. She laughed off my concerns, suggesting I “loosen up” and even offered me advice on spicing up my own wardrobe. Frustrated but determined, I came up with a plan—a brilliantly petty one. That evening, I created the world’s largest, most garish pair of granny panties out of the brightest fabric I could find. The next day, when Lisa left, I hung my masterpiece right in front of her window. When she returned, the sight of the massive flamingo-patterned undergarments nearly knocked her off her feet. Watching her fume while trying to yank down my prank was worth every stitch. She eventually caved, agreeing to move her laundry somewhere less visible—while I quietly relished my victory. From then on, Lisa’s laundry vanished from our shared view, and peace was restored. As for me? I ended up with a pair of flamingo-themed curtains, a daily reminder of the day I won the great laundry war of suburbia.
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