Madonna haunts me. When I worked at the Hard Rock Café in the 80’s they played her nonstop and I feel like, ever since then, she’s inside me somehow. I go into stores and elevators and cars and hear, “Get into the groove boy you got to prove – your love to me…” I don’t love you M, but there is something freakin’ amazing about you that cannot be denied. You are a force, with big cahones!! Nothing stops you from putting your naked boobs right out there (well over 50), while the rest of you is covered in leather – with gorgeous hair, milky skin and blood red lips.  You are the crush of every gay man for life. How do you keep it up?

La Isla Bonita, Like A Prayer, Like A Virgin – LUCKY STAR! Do we all just live in a material girl world?

I’m not sure you can even sing, but you seem to have hypnotized the world and created serious blonde pop-singer girl power. Britney, Gaga, they all copied you, hands down. (Although Gaga rocks) And that yoga/contortionist hot ass body, yea girl.

There should be an app called the Madonna Syndrome that can brain wash you into believing you are great, and talented, and hot and worth gazillions, or as much as you can get, at any age. At least have a book on branding. You invented it.

Madonna, Madonna, Madonna…