Popsicles. Pop sickies. Who hasn't wanted to be a pop singer? Granted, my last attempt to join this oft-ridiculed pantomime was a decade ago -after writing very bad songs for a hastily assembled all-girl singing troupe called the Assassins. We all had alter egos and associated colours; I was Cheri and my colour was red. Nothing makes me cringe faster than re-reading the lyrics of our abysmally penned songs. Enough said. In fact, too much said, if I crawl away now I will leave a trail of whizz fizz and Miley Cyrus-type weeping teen videos (7 things, anyone?)
Lady freaking GaGa enjoys far too much popularity in this country. From the New Zealand Herald: " Stefania Gabriella Germanotta - aka Lady GaGa - is desperate to be famous. She openly admits she has deliberately and calculatedly plotted her rise to prominence - "
Maybe it's the way she pronounces "Dance" (D'AAnce) in her sleaze-drip song, "Just Dance"
or the lyrics "Wish I could shut my playboy mouth (oh oh oh oh) How'd I turn my shirt inside out? (inside out babe) Control your poison babe, roses with thorns they say And we’re all gettin’ hosed tonight (oh oh oh oh) " or maybe it's the S&M disco stick she waves around suggestively in her video... I can't put my finger on it, but I'm getting closer. Perhaps it's how she's humping around on a blow-up animal in a wading pool in the above mentioned video. Desperation. Clearly.