I love Lady Gaga just as much as Tony loved having Nicky Santoro put his head in a vice, and pop his eyeball out in Casino (I still can’t believe he did that for Charlie M). The only difference is, the vice that is Gaga will loosen just enough for you to regain consciousness, and get a clear look at her meat dress. Then it immediately tightens back up during the baseline of Love Game. The media doesn’t help to dispel the Gaga oversaturation either. They throw her (?) in your face (Jeremy Lin style), yet they never ask, “What is her talent?”
I believe she has no tangle talent (I had to throw tangible in there for all the people that want to tell me about the energy she brings). I know she’s fantastic at playing dress up, but what does she do? She’s like the Paris Hilton of music, “Famous for being famous.” Consequently I don’t understand the fascination. If I could wrap my head around it, I think I could rid her (?) from the pissed off crevice of my brain. That crevice is very crowded at this point, and I really want to throw Gaga out the boat.
When Gaga makes her eventual exodus from the pissed off crevice, there will be a great celebration. A celebration that would rival that of Miami’s big three, when they rose from the earth like Black Eyed Peas. I need that pissed off crevice for the Cleveland Indians’ pitching staff. However none of this will probably happen, because that would be a fairytale. And there are no fairytales in the pissed off crevice of my brain (Shawshank Redemption style). So I will try to cope with this vice the best way I know how, by plotting the hypothetical demise of her (?) career.
? You figure out what it means
Editor-in-Chief of Comedic Prose
Follow Kortney Williams on Twitter @kortneyshane