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Has Madonna ever done anything artistically worthwhile, or did

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Has Madonna ever done anything artistically worthwhile, or did she just sell a buttload of records?
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I like Live to Tell
it's the most dated-ass 80's song ever, but I think it sounds nice anyway
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File: yeeshh.jpg (97KB, 468x689px) Image search: [Google]
yeeshh.jpg
97KB, 468x689px
she is the fate of all pop stars that dont die young
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>>72771193
She sold image and attitude. Handful of catchy songs, nothing enduring.Her legacy is "yay, whoring, I'm calling the shots in muh lyfe"
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>>72771193
Ray of Light is the sprawling epic that Bjork has continuously failed to do
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>>72771947
I can't get over her claiming she invented electronic music with Ray of Light.
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>>72771293
Ageing happens to everyone m8
not just popstars
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>>72771193
GET INTO THE GROOVE BOY
YOU'VE GOT TO PROVE YOUR
LOVE TO ME
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>>72772024
Most artists don't make the exact same kind of music they've done for nearly 40 years though.

Someone hear age releasing a single called "Bitch I'm Madonna" is just kind of sad.
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>>72772018
Source?
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>>72771293
Old people shouldn't be allowed to exercise
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define "artistically worthwhile"
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>>72772040
FOUR MINUTES FRKFRK FOUR MINUTES EY
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>>72771193
I lived in Hollyweird for 30 years and, in that time, must have had about a dozen such celeb-involved mishaps. The most notable of these had to be when a stand-up comic friend of mine had just netted a TV pilot at Universal studios. He figured he could stand to knock off a couple of pounds before the taping, so he called me one day to see if I'd accompany him on a week or two of daily walks around Lake Hollywood. I had a phenomenal working knowledge of ALL things Hollywood, but had no idea there was a lake with that name. As it turns out, it was only a couple of miles from my home; a breathtaking picture postcard of a place with a nice wide paved walking path all the way around it. It gave the impression of being a private area; it was beautifully maintained and sat in a deeply recessed valley framed by by tall wooded hills. Atop these hills were huge imposing estates which served to wall in the lovely spot like a big, unspoiled secret garden. It was open to the public, but had no official entrance or parking area. You pretty much learned how to access it by word of mouth, thus it had remained one of Tinseltown's best-kept secrets. As further testament to the exclusive nature of the lake's scenic walking path, during our hikes, we would occasionally see health conscious celebrities like William Shatner huffing and puffing along. My friend was a fellow film history buff, so he and I would generally just trundle along and pleasantly chat about the entertainment business, past and present. One of the very prominent landmarks along the trail was the fabulous former home of legendary 1930's gentleman gangster, Benjamin "Bugsy " Siegel.
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It had recently been purchased, with much media fanfare, by gap-toothed fag-hag and Pop sensation, Madonna. To the horror of the surrounding upscale neighborhood, she promptly painted the once dignified, classic stucco estate to resemble a garish circus tent. As we passed the colossal eyesore each day, we'd usually just cluck our tongues or toss off a token caustic comment without breaking stride. On one magic occasion, however, my comedian friend was particularly wound up and, in a booming voice groomed by years of stage performing, decided to elaborate on the theme. As Madonna's new palace loomed into view, he suddenly cocked his head, gazed toward the towering estate and boldly declared, "Can you just imagine what kind of foul, repugnant activity currently transpires in Bugsy's former home up there? That magnificent estate that once rang with the sweet strains of skilled orchestras and greeted the senses with the aroma of fine cigars and imported brandy is now the lair of that shrieking mindless whore and her mincing contingent. I can just see that pale, monstrous slag lying in her tacky fuck chamber, furiously pressing a buzzer to summon Phillippe, one of her army of scrawny chestnut colored dancer fag; she orders him to prepare her a Coconut milk enema ...The little slave fruit meekly protests: (in a high pitched voice) "But meessa Maydonna, You hade the Cock-a-nuts enayma jes lassa night...do you tink it so wise to meelk washa yoo bunga so very much?".
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Without missing a beat, yours truly leapt in and took the story over :
"Yeah, and in that instant, Madonna's face registers discontent and her horrible fanged mutant pussy begins to noisily fart and grumble. It suddenly springs from beneath the silken bed sheets, snapping ferociously, just an inch from poor Phillippe's nose...he shrieks and flees in horror down the hall, screaming, "Yase, Yase, Maydonna, I weel do it ... I weel do it at wonce !" We both start chuckling and I add in a serious tone, " Now, y'know what that liitle friggin' Phillippe needs to do; before he makes his way to Madonna's bedroom, he ought to snag a big raw bloody steak from the kitchen ... that way if he ever feels compelled to challenge the logic of the mighty Slut Goddess, he can first toss the slab of meat to that horrible snapping demon cunt of hers to keep it busy.

We both begin cracking up again, when we suddenly hear an exasperated gasp from behind and see someone tearing past us in a determined sprint. The retreating figure turns with a fixed scowl, and for a moment studies us, as if gathering details for a police report. It's then that we both realize that it's none other than the material whore herself, trying to look obscure in a hooded jogging outfit and huge sunglasses. She has a look of extreme distress on her face and begins furiously digging in the pockets of her blousy sweats trying to retrieve a walkie-talkie device of some kind. She races away at full speed barking into the device and soon disappears around a bend far ahead. Since my pal and I were slowly ambling along with no one in plain view, we became lost in our verbal merriment and didn't even detect the power-walking Madonna slipping up behind us, where she obviously overheard our festive speculation as to her lifestyle.
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This peculiar situation had an even more perfect ending...very near the place where we would routinely exit the track, we had a final Madonna encounter as she hurriedly approached facing us, this time completely flanked by a herd of guards and employees that she apparently called down from her hilltop home. As they briskly passed, she shot a snooty glare our way and all her attendants gave us some major fisheye as well ... We still managed to have the last laugh when, all at once, we spotted, virtually buried among her hulking escorts, a slight, chestnut colored fairy who gave us a particularly dark look as he sashayed by..."It's Phillippe", we both exclaimed in amazement before the inevitable crippling fit of laughter engulfed us.

Nick "A. Wyatt Mann" Bougas, on the time he met Madonna
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I liked that Factory spoof video for Deeper and Deeper and that one time she sampled ABBA and thrusted her crotch lustily in every direction
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>>72772403
>>72772409
>>72772425
>>72772442
Just link the article you fucking retard
Thread posts: 20
Thread images: 3


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