The GrindHaus of Gaga: “Telephone” ft. Beyonce

Gaga’s back like Barry Bonds with another hit for the fiends: (wait – until after the jump – lemme finish, and then you can see the greatest video of all crime).

Its what you all been waiting for ain’t it? What people pay paper for dxxn it. They can’t stand it, they want something new. So let’s get re-acquainted. Became the hood favorite. I cant even explain it. I surprise myself too. Life of a Don, lights keep glowin’. Comin’ in the club wit that fresh sxxt on, with something crazy on my arm. Ha Ha Hum, here’s another hit, Barry Bonds

So, while you were sleeping off the sequin Pop bomb last year… here’s what you missed – or tried to forget

Meanwhile, this is what happened while you slept last night…

Whether in the Penthouse or State Pen: Gaga gets it in – with Diet Coke cans in the head… she’s so Brooklyn (by way of Lenox Hill, of course).

Watch This Space: Take a seat at the roadside diner, grab a piece of cake Anna Mae, and a glass of kool-aid. The celebrity feeds the citizen, and the public is never satisfied; so they feed us with the rise and the demise. Meanwhile, with eyes glued on the tv screens like honey on bees – that vouyeristic greed starves any and every other need. Just know that the celebrity is an ideal – and one like Gaga is stratospherically immortal because she is a concept we have created. We however, are mortal. While we may be dreamkillers in our own right, this is a clear reminder that Fame Kills the fiend as much as it does the famous. Keep kneeling at the celebrity altar kids: it’s a Mass suicide – but man if it’s not sticky and sweet.

Welcome to Wonderland:


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