Despite the occasional ham handed step into drive-by feminism, Ariana Grande largely sells herself as a writhing fuck toy. It’s not sexist. There are plenty of young guys making bank in rap and shitty pop music with the same middling IQ and cynical brand plan. These twats need a buffer somewhere in management to stop them from inviting their grannies to watch them perform. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was cute at four. Songs about fucking until you can’t walk at twenty-three much less older relative adorable.
Grande invited her Italian “Nonna” to sit ringside for her obvious sexual ditties. Grande’s older brother Frankie was there. You need one family member who inherently understands cock worshipping lyrical subtext. Frankie spent the evening on Snapchat ensuring his fans could watch him singing and dancing to his sister’s music. Ask yourself who’s watching on the other end. It’s okay to cry.
Nonna seemed rather unamused. Her head sunk into her hands with every backup singer enhanced homage to banging. No grandparent should know what their twenty-something granddaughter is up to after dark. Watching her sing about it in front of throngs of screaming pumpkin heads has to rub it in even worse.
Does Nonna get to come back stage after the show to watch you pussy grind a couple dancers for shits and giggles Suddenly, Nonna has a headache. It might be a stroke. Lick the doughnuts. Harder. You killed Nonna.