Friday, January 15, 2010

Have you ever seen Lady Gaga in jeans?

She knows pants're sexist.

I don't intend to tackle Gaga in any thorough fashion; it's far too early in our awareness of her presence for that. There's a line, though, that I have a particular relationship with.

I was happy when I thought you were saying, "I'm a freak bitch, baby." You are a freak, but don't say "freak," say "monster," darling, and do as your mother tells you. I started to listen a little closer as I began to consider how fucking cool it would be if you were saying "free" instead of "freak." I couldn't hear the "k" on the end, and thought you were playing with freak/free, but intending freak in the long run.
But that was just my head (and many other heads, it turns out).
It's free, all the way.

My Romantic Fellow, sweet consumer whore that he is, got me The Fame Monster for Christmas. The liner notes confirmed my Free Bitch vision, but when I listened to the CD's Bad Romance?

"I'm a free bit, baby."

Since when do they censor bitch? They don't censor any variation on ho.

Bitch was never the problem, with this line. I trust you with Bitch. You were trafficked and The Man with the Golden Jaw paid for you (that's two counts of less-than-free, for those of you following along at home), so you set him on fire. That's a bitch move I can get behind, and your Baby frames Bitch so deliciously; I hear you relishing putting the world into place as you announce just what kind of Bitch you are.

But now it's Bit.


Better to lie and indicate that she's merely half of a mini-hamburger, skewered on a toothpick and ready for anyone's consumption, waiting on the sample cart in one of Costco's frozen food aisles.
Better to remind Gaga of her place, were The Patriarchy to have its druthers.
Better to keep women in line.
This is less offensive?

Fuck that.

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