While the whole world and his/her Mother have clambered over each other to fornicate across the taut abdomen of the Gaga hype train, I’ve continuously employed my limited persuasive techniques to try and make people stop and think for a second about why exactly they bow to the shrine of the pretentious pop tart. For every daytime TV presenter that lazily labelled Gaga as “edgy”, I wanted there to be a level-headed voice of reason in the background bellowing “she’s not edgy! She’s doing the same thing as everybody else only in stupider fucking shoes!”
But as time went by, I started to realize that Gaga wasn’t as loathsome as she first presented herself to be. Sure it was annoying to watch her waddle across the red carpet in her faux-symbolic attire, but at least it gave people something to talk about, and I stand by the belief that if something gets people to engage in conversation, regardless of what it may be, then it can never be too bad. Unless it’s terrorism. That’s quite hard to justify no matter how much you talk about it.
It was all going relatively well for me and Gaga, then. She carried on shovelling her pop music down the collective throats of the western world, while I learnt to tolerate her doing so and prohibited myself from shaking my fist at the TV screen whenever she popped up on it. Then she had to go and spoil it all by sitting in a giant egg for 3 days.
Lady Gaga’s choreographer, Laurieann ‘BoomKack’ Gibson (I’ll allow you to think of a witty jibe regarding her pseudonym as I’m running under a tight schedule here), was handed the copy of the first song from Gaga’s highly-anticipated second album a while before its release. After listening to it, she didn’t get it. Oh, how embarrassing. You’ve just been personally handed a copy of the Number One Popstar in the World’s latest CD, and you think it’s shit. What on Earth do you do? Rather than admit to Gaga that she wasn’t a fan of her latest output, Miss BoomKack did what any self-respecting employee of the 21st Century Madonna would do; she went home, put the CD back in her stereo and listened to that bastard until she loved it.
So what did she learn following her repeated listens? Other than miraculously now finding the song a masterpiece, she also inexplicably came to the conclusion that the song was about a race of people that couldn’t hate. Err… what?
But Lady Gaga, ever the opportunist when it comes to imaginary symbolism, quickly nodded in agreement and then proceeded to squeeze herself into a giant egg for a performance at the Grammys. The egg was supposed to represent her rebirth as an artist, which was contradicted by the fact that ‘Born This Way’ sounds like everything else she’s done. This seemed to be lost on Gaga though, who sat in the egg like a trooper for 3 days until the performance.
Since her egg sit-in, Gaga has worn two-foot long heels, released album cover art that featured her head built into a motorbike and had devil horns fitted to her cheeks and shoulders. If anything was going to provoke me into reacting negatively again, these things surely would have. But no, nothing. As I watched the internet stare with wonderment at her prosthetic protruding shoulder bones and cry “WAT DOES THIS MEEEEEN?!?11??!” I instead shrugged my own and exhaled with an almighty “meh”.
Now she’s released a new single entitled Judas, and all the typical ball-busting religious types are out in force to condemn her for her blasphemy, whilst failing to realize that if she releases a song wherein she talks of her desire to fuck the guy who betrayed Jesus, she was probably hoping that a few people would be offended by it in the first place.
What worried me was that religion is one of my favorite topics to discuss (as an atheist I always tend to find myself winning in debates with religious types, so my reasoning behind it being one of my favorite topics is mainly due to self-indulgence), yet upon watching Judas I felt completely uncompelled to pass comment. It was then that I realized the horrifying truth; I am bored of Lady Gaga.
It’s difficult to admit it, especially in such a public forum, but I feel that now the time is right. When I click on one of her YouTube videos, I no longer feel the need to antagonise her ‘Little Monsters’, nor do I have the urge to continue to perpetuate the rumour that she has a 13-inch dick. I simply stare blankly at the screen for a short while before continuing my search for videos of cute kittens sneezing.
So tell me, internet, what is wrong with me? Why can I no longer feel that giddy rush of hating Gaga? Where did that awful chill down my spine go that occurred every time I heard Poker Face? And how on Earth can I look at a picture of her wearing those prosthetic horns without falling to my knees in tearful despair?
Am I alone?
Photo Courtesy of: Aaron Gilbert/WENN.com
