I'm stuck in prison with Michael Jackson

Hi everybody, I've just recieved my first letter from my prison-penpal in America, and I thought I'd share it with you:

Hello G, my name is Adam and I'm serving 15 years for vehicular manslaughter and driving under the influence of drugs at San Quentin prison. Life here sure is tough! It's everything you've seen in TV shows like Oz, except for anything you saw in that show that didn't make you ashamed to be a human being.
My cellmate, Larry, was shanked recently so I'd been feeling a little down. Larry's face had been altered to look like fundamentalist Christian puppet "Li'l Markie" using a sharpened toothbrush and the wall of D-wing and that's the kinda image you can't get rid of no matter what you smoke.
I was assigned a new cellmate yesterday morning and told that if I could insure that nothing happened to him then I would be out while there are still ice-caps. Okay, so I don't have any particular reason to leave since my girlfriend sold my stuff and is now dating my sister, but when you're inside it's important to have goals.
It wasn't hard to recognise my new cell-mate, in fact if there was a way to recognise him before I first saw him then I probably would have. Now, I'm not supposed to say who it is exactly, and it's 50/50 about whether I can mention his chalk-white skin, bat-like inhuman features or the fact that he walked into the room backwards while making it look like he was walking forwards. I'm gonna name him 'M.J', after one of the fifteen drugs found in my system when I was arrested. And his initials. M.J gave me friendship bracelet.
The warden took me aside and explained that the new guy had used what remained of his fortune to film the judge delivering an 'innocent' verdict and broadcast it all over the world when it became apparent that he was a child-molesting monster. That said, I sold his name to the Aryan Brotherhood for three bars of the good soap and then to the Crips in C block for a picture of that girl from the Doritos commercial cut from a three year old copy of Maxim magazine.
I showed M.J where everything was and which turf to stay away from, which was pretty much all of it. I knew that unless he found a crew then he wasn't going to last the night so I introduced him to the other child molesters. They really got on.
"I really identify with the innocence of children" he told them.
"They scream" mentioned the East River Strangler "They always scream..."
"You have a rollercoaster in your back yard too? Hooray!"
M.J gave the East River Strangler a friendship bracelet and sung a song about a magical journey on a rollercoaster, which the D-wing Angelito gang interpreted as the signal to start rioting that the Gambinos were supposed to send. Three inmates and a guard died in the ensuing fracas.
The excitement was a little too much for M.J, so I showed him back to our cell.
Some people find it hard to sleep in prison. I had it pretty much under control. Sure it was hard at first but once you get to know people you don't have to worry about them stabbing you with a piece of broken glass and wearing your face.
I was midway through a dream where I was both Dukes of Hazzard and we just snorted Boss Hogg, who was made out of painkillers. Daisy Dukes was just getting out of those little denim shorts in the back of the General Lee. Something about the way her arm felt around me felt a little too real, and my brain went into panic mode and booted me back into conciousness. I awoke to find M.J's hideous vampire face an inch from my own, with a contented little smile on his lips.
I jumped out of bed screaming, waking M.J and half the cellblock.
"It's okay." he told me "sharing somebody's bed is a beautiful thing. The most loving thing you can do is share someone's bed. The whole world should share beds, then there would be no more war or hunger. You're being ignorant. Don't be ignorant."
This made little sense, so I beat him into a coma with a bar of soap inside a pillow case.