Two—I can’t stop listening to this song. Perhaps this may have something to do with the depression. And yes, I do know this may be the one of the gayest and most annoying videos we’ve all witnessed, but that just adds to the angsty goodness of the current ennui…
Lordy, do I hate Madonna and fashion photo shoots. How did I get here? And whoa, what am I doing in this handbasket??
The theory is that when she decided it was time to leave he got belligerent and waved a gun around and finally shot her. He’s claiming that Lana committed suicide even though his limo driver swore in court that Spector came out of the house and said, “I think I’ve just killed someone.” He also never called 911 and cursed the dead woman out as he was cuffed, tasered, and taken away.
What a douchebag that guy is. In the immortal words of Ms. Nancy Grace, he should fry! But seriously, it’s stunning to watch the story unfold and see how little understanding he has of how absolutely selfish he’s been his entire life. I think a little down time as someone’s bitch in prison might be just the lesson the horrid, evil little twink deserves.
I am the one, Orgasmatron, the outstretched grasping hand
My image is of agony, my servants rape the land
Obsequious and arrogant, clandestine and vain
Two thousand years of misery, of torture in my name
Hypocrisy made paramount, paranoia the law
My name is called religion, sadistic, sacred whore.
I am the emperor of lies, you grovel at my feet
I rob you and I slaughter you, your downfall is my gain
And still you play the sycophant and revel in you pain
And all my promises are lies, all my love is hate
I am the politician, and I decide your fate
I speak of great heroic days, of victory and might
I hold a banner drenched in blood, I urge you to be brave
I lead you to your destiny, I lead you to your grave
Your bones will build my palaces, your eyes will stud my crown
For I am Mars, the god of War, and I will cut you down.
The song is godawful and the video is retarded. It’s like a teenage goth girl’s version of what is romantic, dangerous and sexy. And Manson is currently playing it up in the press that they may or may not have actually been fucking while being filmed. To me it appears to be an obvious and vicious slap at Dita Von Teese, who has been nothing but gracious in the press about Manson’s infidelity and the subsequent demise of their relationship.
But I do think she has a flawless sense of style, I love her glamour, and she’s very obviously intelligent and hardworking. I also have a newfound respect for her after reading recent interviews. She has been nothing short of stellar in her behavior and statements regarding her personal life, never saying too much or being insulting or petulant, but at the same time speaking her own truth very clearly. She’s behaved, dare I say it, in a most ladylike fashion.
I wondered this very thing, my loyal readers, and then it came to me last night in the form of a visual memory. A picture flashed in my brain of my friend Lola looking at me across a crowded room with tears shining in her eyes as she mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry.”
It was beyond excruciating. My whole body shook and I felt dizzy. Everything slowed down for a few moments as I saw ice coming from nowhere (though I knew it was from my friends in the audience), floating gently across the air on a current of smoke and then speeding up to pelt Lydia as she spewed her garbage. And then that final, also slow-motion vision of Lola turning to me from across the room to speak those words.
I understand why someone might not be a fan, but I am really confused and fascinated by the fact that people on this planet hate her so much that they’re excited by the possibility that she might suffer in jail. There are a lot of people out there who really want her to get hurt and are very vocal about it. Why the vitriol? Is it because people are jealous of her over-privilege?
Shit, I know I am. I’d love to be able to do nothing but shop all day and be a drunken slut all night. I think she should pay the same consequences for breaking the law as anyone else, and I do wish she’d take better care of her pets and maybe donate some of that dough to some worthy causes. But I don’t have any desire to see her physically wounded and it confuses me that anyone would put so much energy into hating someone who isn’t affecting their own life in any way.
The first time I saw her photo I squeaked and then forgot about it until I read a letter she wrote to Perez, who has been saying mean things about her looks for some time. The letter was very well written and explained that she was young and just trying to live her life and that she didn’t understand why he was constantly being so rotten about her looks, that it hurt her, and she never claimed to be a supermodel. That turned her into a real person for me instead of just an image to giggle at online. I doubt I would have been as articulate and gracious at that age if caught in the same situation.
And this is on a very small level—imagine what it must be like to be really famous and have people digging through your garbage all day long. It’s so depressing and small.
But in the meantime I’m going to work on becoming more conscious and less hurtful with the things I say and think, and I want to stop obsessively feeding my brain with erroneous bullshit about people I don’t know.
Many thanks to my bandmate and sister Donna and drumkiller Tony Monster for letting me get up and sing that song one more time. I am honestly amazed that anyone is still excited to hear us do Beer, but since you are, I’m more than happy to strap on a miniskirt and perform. I like doing one song because it’s all the glory with none of the work. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am! Also many thanks to the Reality Check boys, you always know how to make a girl feel like a total rockstar. Looking forward to the feature on this night.
She Wolves sounded heavy as fuck and Richie Scarlet did a great job on guest guitar. He rocked the shit out of Beer and next time I see him I’ll have to apologize for singing a couple of lines over his solo. I will use the excuse that I couldn’t hear well onstage and his screaming guitar licks fueled a fire in my brain that could not be stopped! It was also really fun to turn around and see Donna playing guitar on the song after years of standing next to each other at the mike. She’s the one of us who actually got the energy up to learn to play an instrument. Extreme laziness and expensive manicures have prevented me from attempting same.
What was really cool about last night, and the reason I’m marking it down with a blog, is that nearly everyone in the room was a good friend in a good mood – Donna & Riad, Cid, Dano, Christine, Electric Dave, Motley Stue, Tony, rock babes Masayo & Chiharu, Pam Grande, Scott, Minna all the way from Finland speaking in that accent that I love, even the lovely Sean, ex of White Zombie, who I haven’t seen in a million years and meant to exchange numbers with and then of course forgot. I am so grateful to know the people I do, people who never give up on rock and roll. Everyone was happy to be near each other while listening to friends play, and to me it just doesn’t get any better than that, honestly.
There are many more I’m forgetting to name but forgive me, my head is still wonkey from being sick. I wasn’t completely up to par and had to leave early after some quick tequila therapy, thereby missing some Celtic Frost action at Cups with Supermorgan, and callously abandoning Dano to struggle through a Warriors style way home.
Oh, and lastly, a special shout out to the security guy at the door who flipped out when he saw the birthdate on my driver’s license. I’m bringing him flowers and chocolate next time I hit the Delancey.
Life is good.
I’m bringing it up because I don’t want any bad rumors circulating around about people’s personal lives. I don’t mind if my own shit is splattered everywhere; I’m pathologically prone to spilling all of my most embarrassing moments, but I do want to exercise some discretion when it comes to the people I love.
I always get complaints that I forget to post this stuff til the last minute, so it’s in blog form a day early for y’all.
If you’re looking for something cool to do on Wednesday night, I’m singing Beer with the inimitable She Wolves at the combo party for Ace’s birthday and Reality Check’s Real Rock Diva’s dvd release at the Delancey. Yes, yes, you’ve seen us do this song a million times, but I promise I’ll wear something different and maybe sing it backwards this time. Plus the upside of me only having to sing one song is that it provides tons more quality bar hours while Donna and her crew do all the actual work. Yippee!
It’s a nightly toe into the pool of darkness, if you will.
That whole innocent until proven guilty thing is a mere fly buzzing in the corner window of Nancy’s newsroom, and the more salacious the tale, the better as far as all are concerned.
And our news is the same: everything is child abuse and child pornography and sex scandals and people destroying each other in new and ever-expanding ways. We don’t have any information in the mainstream about our abortion rights slowly being eroded away, but we know all about every violent maniac in the tri-state area and whether Angelina Jolie’s still happy with Brad or not. I don’t know what’s happening with the war but I know what Britney Spears pussy looks like up close.
Culturally we’re slavering, drooling, pathetic half-wits who can only get off on the basest of entertainment. We worship serial killers and manufactured pop stars and we treat each other like crap because we believe ourselves to be islands unto ourselves.