In this era of planes dropping out of the sky, this contraband smuggling shit was supposed to be under control. But there’s Lady Gaga flaunting her TSA unscreened nipple in an Instagram selfie. What else could she get on that plane? The fat chick she makes sleep with her in her bed? A baker’s dozen of gay Romanian backup dancers in the overhead? This is a massive breach of something. I know at sixteen bucks an hour nobody’s volunteering to go glove deep up swamp thing’s lower GI tract, but she fits the profile of exactly who the Muslim male profiling apologists insist is the real secret threat. White female with bottoming out album sales. If you want to live, kick out the over-wing exits, blow into your life vest and jump.
Jennifer O’Neill, Lady Gaga’s former assistant, is writing a tell all book about the horrors of holding down a full time job. Gaga, who orders her non-disclosure agreements from the back of The Onion, already had to pay O’Neill a settlement regarding overtime pay. O’Neill claims Gaga made her sleep in the same bed with her to help ward off the feral bats that strafe the singer nightly in her slumber. That does seem like time you should be compensated for. Gaga claims she was a model employer
“I am the queen of the universe, every day… I’m quite wonderful to everybody that works for me.”
I’m going to bet that’s more of a boast than a supportable fact. This does not excuse O’Neill from writing a nasty book because your boss called you out that one time when you brought people back from the club and told them you owned the house. I predict the book will bomb horribly. The people who do care about Lady Gaga prefer her trumped up stage image and could care less about what she’s like with the curtains pulled back. And for those of us non-fans, just the mention of Lady Gaga’s curtains being pulled back make us gag from spleen to mouth. There is no audience for this book. Except for every other creepy celebrity who will no longer higher Jenny to be their confidential bunkmate.
Photo Credit: Instagram
California has a water crisis of galactic proportions. According to the crony packed state boards, it’s because the statue of the boy peeing in my backyard is wasting water. Here’s a hint, water Nazis, that’s not a statue, that’s a real boy. Yes, David Geffen, I have one too. The big on rules people don’t want us to flush our piss or wash our cars or water our lawns. They paid somebody’s brother-in-law to invent a catchy new drought slogan: Brown is the New Green. First I thought it was a call to not flush our shits any more either. But then I realized it was just a stunningly clever word play to let our lawns die so we can replace them with sod that takes a huge amount of water to maintain.
Rather than build California’s first water storage facility in over forty years or cease coddling baby fish by dumping precious reservoir water into the Pacific, the seventeen different water agencies combined into one mega-bureaucrat and asked Lady Gaga to record a seventeen second PSA. When you’re in crisis mode, you want Lady Gaga on the bridge.
“We’re thrilled Lady Gaga has joined the effort to Save Our Water. Conservation has always been a Californian value, but in this drought regular conservation isn’t enough — we must take extraordinary measures to save water.”
– Mark Cowin, director of the California Department of Water Resources
And, by extraordinary measures, he means not bothering the commercial agri-businesses who use 80% of the water in the state. Also, asking people to listen to Lady Gaga’s voice without feeling the need to drown yourself in a tub, which is absolutely horrible for water conservation. At least until you start decomposing and turn a muted brown. Then you’re the new green and your name shall be heralded in song by people apologizing to trees for the invention of the combustion engine.
It’s hard to achieve that real shock vibe when you have a team of media planners working diligently to make you seem shocking. I’m sure Warhol wrote something like that on a cocktail napkin he later wrote his number on and rammed up a twink’s ass. If Lady Gaga announced that her newest video featured her shoving a live ferret and her submissive’s dick into a Robot-Coupe, well, yawn. But bringing together underaged sex pirate R. Kelly and creepy Uncle Terry for the Do Want U Want music video about Lady Gaga willingly being anesthetized so she can be raped with a baby, fuck yeah. I’d watch that. That’s the 2014 version of 2007 girl fights, it’s nauseating, but only for the first several hours.
“Will I ever be able to walk again?”
“Yes, if you let me do whatever I want with your body. I’m putting you under, and when you wake up, you’re going to be pregnant.”
‘m sure there’s some profound meta meaning to this video that is precisely the opposite of what it appears. Like, maybe, rape is bad. Or Lady Gaga feels like she’s let herself be raped by the corporate media in exchange for her success. You know, a bunch of shit her twelve year little monster cutters will certainly discuss in an intelligent manner with a caring adult or mentor. Right after they Google the recipe for homemade roofies so they can get raped by the Judd Nelson lookalike from the other side of the tracks who got held back twice.
You won’t see the entire video ever. The label has decided to burn it, then take the ashes out to sea to be consumed by an orca that will further dilute the evidence in orca feces. But TMZ got a peek at it first. Or paid somebody to give them a peek in the grand tradition of peeks. It’s up above until such time as the Sentinels blast it out of cyberspace.
Lady Gaga is riding high. She just scored a coveted MTV Japan Video Award for her most recent Madonna rip off song. She’s close to sealing her domestic sales fate with a Live at Budokan album. To celebrate being big in Japan, Gaga got a big ass trumpet tattoo on her right bicep. I can’t remember all her previous tattoos, but she’s got some peace signs, dragons, roses, and oddly a map to where Stalin secretly imprisoned all the gay gypsies after the war.
lets go it’s jazz time world — Lady Gaga on Instagram commenting on her new tat.
And now it’s wake up time and you’ve got a brass instrument you don’t play etched across your humerus. Nothing is more jazzy than regret.
Photo Credit: INFphoto.com, Splash