Madonna On Pele

Ok, so the title doesn't mean anything. Although it does have a Pavement-like irregularity to it. Flux=Rad, Date w/ IKEA, Jackals, False Grails: The Lonesome Era, and Internal K-dart, just to name a few. Of course, these titles themselves are a direct infraction/reflection of The Fall's Mark E. Smith's genius: Underground Medecin, WMC-Blob 59, Spectre Vs. Rector, Psykick Dancehall, Rowche Rumble, et al. The reason I thought of all this drivel was because I was watching Madonna on ABC television the other night. Actually, it was on Bravo also. I was feeling it all the way in simulcast. I don't know if that's the right term, but it's sort of like when you're watching Detroit sports teams on national network television- you almost always have to turn off the sound and put on your local radio so you don't have to listen to some L.A. schroeder crank it and cock-block Detroit from whoever Detroit is versus. Anyway, she was jamming ABC Television Special-style. Sort of like an after-school special, but rated: AWESOMER. I happened to catch her shredding Ray of Light, all leotarded out-- First Act guitar in hand( I don't think it was the Paul Westerberg model), Ok, it was a Gibson, but like a new Gibson, so it was probably made in the same butthole the First Acts are made. She was just cranking the jam, somehow confusing her bi-curious nature in a unassuming, aggresively timid/masculine posture, usually reservered for the chicks in Lenny Kravitz videos. Madonna is still jamming. I was watching that particular ABC Madocudonna concert event in simulcast and just fucking jamming, Cicconi style. I'm usually not totally into Madonna. Most of the time I just get pissed at what a fat piece of shit in a leotard she is. Let's see...there was the whole washer-ring wedding gown thing, that video where she's ramping up on a black saint and burning crosses and jamming, Shanghai Surprise, the Sex book (I was like, no shit? That's Big Daddy Kane! Then I was all, sick! That's fucking Vanilla Ice!) We've suffered through bottle blowjobs, pointy cone tits, Evita, Maverick records (thanks for Alanis Morrisette by the way), ancient mystic jewishism, the fake english accents, the clearly gay fake English husband, the haggotry of her and Rupert Everett (you remeber him, right? No, that's Rupert Holmes who did Escape(the pina colada song)), the African kidnapping, This used to be my playground (and just to clear things up, there is crying in baseball) again with the leotards, the unitards, the omnitards, and perhaps the most damning of them all, her tonguing Britney Spears at the MTV video awards (two words: her peas) I'm mostly just pissed about Shanghai Surprise. And the bull dance. Anyway, she was kickin' out Ray Of Light, just feelin' the flow, shredding some chords on her First Act guitar, and I thought to myself, just fucking jam on it, Madonna, you deserve it. You are an awesome....and a fucking fat piece of shit in a leotard MILF. I don't see why she couldn't become the biggest female pop star of her generation. Who's that girl? Madonna. Plus, she's like a lyrical genius. Take this:
La Isla Bonita
Last night I dreamt of San Pedro. Just like I'd never hung with D. Boon, I knew the song, bitch-tits. A young girl with eyes swollen from mosquito bites. It all seems like y'all need to get your shit lined-up and fucking step up to the mic., motherfuckers! And you can dance!
My spanish lullaby.

Suck on that.

Out.