I’ll admit it; I don’t get it. I don’t get the Lady Gaga thing at all. Although it was once explained to me by someone who knows is that the thing about her is how she controls every facet of her image. And so maybe I do get it, I just don’t know I’m getting it.
The other thing is, yes, I still read Rolling Stone, which I think either positions me as an aging hippie (not; more like an aging freak–and if you don’t know what I mean by that you are a youngin’ , aren’t you?), or a post pubescent young man. Again, not.
Matt Taibbi has educated me on the last election and Wall Street, so, if Rolling Stone is going to put this, ahem, artist on its cover wearing a thong and brassiere made out of machine guns, I may crack the cover.Actually, I’m not sure I’ll even have to read the article because the teaser copy on its site may be enough to sate my curiosity.
And if that’s not enough, there are 86 photos of the Ladeee in her wildest costumes. I got halfway through, and you know, I’m hooked.