How did I miss this? I can’t believe nobody said anything to me about it! She did what at the VMA’s?

What possesses a grown woman to wrap herself in meat unless it’s attached to a few dudes in a dark room? How does that even enter one’s mind? Better question: How much drugs does it take to make that seem like a good idea? I’m well aware that Lady Gaga is mad eccentric, but eccentricity stops at crotchless pants & metal make-up. Wearing dead animal flesh, pressed against your undoubtedly sweaty body is gross. Clinically. God only knows what type of Salmonella she has now, even if it does compliment her HPV. Really though, this chick wore food. That’s just wrong on so many levels that I don’t know where to begin.

^if that was mike vick, hell would break loose…

No offense, but poor people should be offended. It’s bad enough that the television (if you can afford one) plasters images of the well-to-do getting richer & fatter by the minute, with their tour bus cars & hotel houses, but to add insult to already life-numbing injury, this bitch walks out wearing a week’s worth of beef. To further illustrate, imagine there’s some guy, who’s been bumming loose monies from strangers all day (just to get a Whopper meal & smoke a little crack by the days end), who saw her gown of dermis, & decided to write her a letter about herself. After he blazed his rock, or course. I can’t fathom the audacious pretention it takes to be publicly rich & famous to begin with, but to turn livestock (that could feed hungry families) into a skin-tight skirt is insanity. Utter foolishness. Or cocaine. Or a healthy combination of the 2.

Also, allow me to apologize to every rapper I’ve disparaged for their choice of attention-getting techniques. This publicity stunt takes the coke. I mean cake. Coonery at it’s crowning fucking moment. Suck it, Sasha Baron Cohen.

This is clearly a case of severe narcissism. Severe. I’ve done some strange things in my life, for the sake of garnering extra shine time, but I’m positive I’d never stoop so low as to buy steaks, & have them woven into clothing. All the perfume in the world couldn’t have helped her that night. Believe that under those bright ass lights, it was hot. & she was moving around, betwixt hundreds of other hot, sweaty people, at any given moment. She probably won’t stop smelling like a Burger King kitchen area until next week some time. & it was all to make people look at her, assuming it’s even under her control. For all we know, she could be but another puppet, tethered to The Machine, forced to do it’s bidding in her blind allegiance to the Illumunati. Or, something to that effect. Either way, when that “Gagagot Skin Cancer” story breaks on TMZ, in 10 years (God forbid), we’ll know the 5 W’s. Fuck being famous, mayne.

Now, the question remains: how is she going to top that? Not for nothing, but if y’all come across her Twitter name, pass that. I want to let her know that I’ll shit on her feet, free of charge, & she can wear it as shoes the next time she wants to make a “statement.” Hell, I’ll give her $20 for the opportunity.

Ha.