Less Than Desirable Romance
Dear Lady GaGa,
It is amazing how well you have been doing this past year or so, rocketing through to the top of the charts in no time at all. You even have a Facebook page dedicated to your random musical babbling. My question to you is: What demon spat you out from their loins? Or if that scenario is not the case: What demon has taken possession of your fragile human body?
See, your music is decent enough, I have found myself tapping my foot to your songs more than once, but what I couldnt figure is how a girl from NYC who wears hula hoops as haute couture managed to convince the world she was someone worth worshiping in that celebrity type way. My first guess was talent, but a better guess would be Black Magic.
You see, I am a man schooled in many mystical traditions* and I can see right through your ruse (and your bubble wrap dress and your spiny gyroscope thing); below your flashy exterior is a twisted demon just waiting to inflict more 1980’s reminiscent carnage on the world. I have been watching you from the shadows and know of your plan to create a “Fame Monster”. Let it be known that I am polishing my copy Nirvana’s Nevermind** and preparing the prayers*** needed to defeat you and your evil single release schedule!
You have been warned!
Love, Matt
* by that I mean I took a World Religions class my freshman year of college.
** Everyone knows that Kurt Cobain is to Pop singers as garlic is to Polish cooks.
*** The Lyrics to My Fair Lady
