Yes, Madge, pussy fuck that Minotaur’s elbow, because that’s truly living for love.
In case you’re like me and live in the land of yesterday where we have to wait for the Grammys when it airs here next fucking week or watch a live stream that looks like it’s being broadcast via AOL dial-up via 1998, here’s Madge serving up some ole-flavored latter day Mae West glamour while performing “Living For Love” at the Grammys tonight. I guess I now know what the ritual looks like where Madge sacrifices a virgin child to Lucifer’s minions to keep her face looking as tight as a fetus’ taint and to keep the six-pack on her labia lips muscled up. This is some Pink aerial acrobats meets Elsa Mars in American Horror Story: Freak Show. When I’m 56 years old, I’ll be snorting Metamucil powder in between turning the garden hose on the brats running around my yard, so yes, this is a mess, but I can’t hate on it totally.
I would write a 10,000 word review of this performance, but why should I when the greatest poet of our time Khia put it best:
FYI: Madge is 56. Accidental shade courtesy of Khia.