My intention was to watch the VMAs last night and then immediately write about the show. That didn’t happen. I didn’t know what to say. My mind could not quite make sense of what I saw. I decided to go to bed—thinking that a good night’s sleep would provide me with clarity. I figured that I would wake up with a clear vision of what I wanted to say.
What in the hell? What was THAT?! This is all I can come up with about last night’s VMAs:
- Poor Miley. Perhaps I am old. Perhaps my mother looked at Madonna at the 1984 VMAs writhing around on the stage, singing Like a Virgin, with the same feeling of disgust and confusion as I was looking at Miley and her outfits last night. What I will say is that the room full of tweens and teens that watched the awards with me seemed as “grossed out” by Miley’s wardrobe as I, whereas, in contrast my teenage-self thought that Madonna was fabulous 20 years ago. Some artists are genuinely weird, provocative, rebellious, Miley just seems desperate to be different, which is unfortunate because I think that she is genuinely talented.
- Unlike Miley who is desperately trying to be different, Kanye is genuinely, authentically and completely bat-shit crazy. I wonder if he would be like this if his mother were still alive? I will say this, however: if Donald Trump can run for president in 2016; Kanye is a valid candidate in 2020. They are both egomaniacs, who say whatever in the fuck they want to say.
- Taylor Swift is America’s perfect sweetheart. She is blond, with blue eyes, and an innocent smile. She doesn’t dress sexually, curse, or do any drugs (that we know of). She has expressed her heartbreak publically, identified with teenage girls everywhere. Don’t fuck with her. PERIOD. Can’t. Win. If you doubt this advice, ask APPLE.
- Speaking of apples, once your belly takes on that apple shape, it’s time to cover it up, men. It was great to see Melle Mel, but why did he keep his leather vest open, baring his once incredible body? Look Mel (can I call you Mel?), I’m going to be the old lady whose friends will have to tell me to retire the mini skirt due to my varicose veins, so I’m sympathetic. I’m also trying to be that friend to you: it’s over, Boo.
- The music performances basically sucked. Aren’t the musical performances supposed to real star of the show?
- Speaking of performances—I don’t think that the verbal sparring between Miley and Nikki was one. It was real. We all hate when people say things liberally because they feel protected by the media that they would NEVER say to your face. I’m sure that Nikki is looking at Miley’s scrawny ass squeezed into a broke-down, slutty Barbie outfit and thinking, “Say it now, little girl. Be bad now.” Miley is wealthy, talented, and extremely successful, but she isn’t gangster. She may wear dreadlocks, twerk (terribly), grab her crotch, get crazy designs on her nails and try to otherwise appropriate the Black culture in multiple ways, but she has forgotten that she is playing a role. Nikki is real-deal Holyfield and WILL kick Miley’s ass—literally. I don’t applaud Nikki’s behavior at all, but I am saying that Miley may want to sit down somewhere.
That’s all I’ve got and I had to reach deep to get that. I’m sorry—how creatively can I say, “hot, pitiful mess.”