Why Madonna Has Ruined My Life
Every time I go out, some young, no-talent singer/actor/whatever runs up to me and gurgles, “You should write about me! I’m going to be world famous! Oh, yes, I may be cleaning toilets right now in between shifts behind the counter at Wendy’s, but you mark my words, honey. I’m going to be huge!!!” When this happens, I generally want to spray three cans of Mace, swat them to the curb, and move on to someone who’s actually accomplished something, but then I realize, “Hey, wait a minute! Madonna used to say stuff like that! SHE used to run around claiming to be a superstar in the making who should be noticed right away before she blew up big-time! And I would brazenly argue that she ended up doing pretty well!”
So in her success, Madonna wound up validating the annoying rants ot every other like-minded wannabe who spends their nights buzzing loudly around scribes like me. Thanks to her, I can’t tell these freaks, “Screw off! You’ll end up IN that toilet, lame-ass!” because there’s a one in a kazillion chance that they’re right and they just might become the next Madonna. So I just beatifically smile and nod while scribbling their name down for future reference. Thanks a lot, bitch!
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