Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Ain’t no fool like a old fool.

Oh, Madonna. The thing is, I don’t want to have to be shakin it for dollars on the teevee when I’m fifty, no matter how astonishingly fit I am. I don’t want to need that kind of attention, I don’t want to find myself trolling for skinny-shanks Justin Timberlake to back me up so the kids will like me, I don’t want to have to vamp and preen and jump up and down insisting I’m still relevant. And that (well, that and your music, which I hate and have hated since pretty much everything after “Borderline”) is why I can’t stand looking at you, even at the gym where it’s a choice between you, a soap with a character named “Greenlee” and Imminent Myocardial Infarction Guy on the recumbent bike in front of me. Desperation and insecurity aren’t any less desperate and insecure just because a person is filthy rich and famous and well old enough to know better.

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Blogger Uncle Spike said...

HOLLA! For something REALLY disturbing (and more proof that Madge is trying WAAAAAY too hard), check out the Project Rungay blog. Bitch just don't know when to call it quits.

7:24 PM  
Blogger Lindsay said...

Do you read Dlisted? If not, you must start immediately and look up the Madonna archives. Here is a preview:

Brilliant, smarmy hilarity.

8:15 PM  

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