Dear Lady Gaga,
I don’t really know who you are. As a 64-year-old man, I find myself less and less compelled to follow the hottest tracks of the latest dance pop superstars. I know you have that one song about dancing that sounds like a a commercial for Sprite made for the Israeli market. And I know that you find Paris Hilton to be an interesting person with whom you have a lot in common and a deep, abiding friendship. But beyond that, not much. Like, where the fuck did you come from? Who does your music and/or your fabricated I Am Robot attitude appeal to? These are questions I would ask if I cared, but I do not, because caring doesn’t pay the hospital bills (for my broken hip), or the butterscotch bills (for all the butterscotch I eat).
That being said, I am nevertheless in tune enough with the pop cultural events of the day, via my shortwave radio and the mimeographed copies of the internet that the neighbor lady’s daughter brings over every morning, to know that you think yourself to be particularly provocative and cutting edge lady. You are always dressing in your fabulous costumes and giving outrageous answers to the interviewers’ questions. It would seem that you have your eyes set on becoming some kind of powerful icon of celebrity and youthful energy.
Sure. Good luck to you, young woman!
But there is one thing that is funny to me:
No matter how daring or provocative you may hope to be, you still make appearances on Ellen.
Haha. Sure. Ellen. The first lady of controversy. You know, for the kids.
Being A Cool Person FAIL.