Aretha Franklin did all us pupils at the Skewl of Camp a favor earlier this year when it came out that she faxed over her true thoughts to Dionne Warwick over some lingering beef from Whitney Houston’s funeral. The throwback use of communication would normally deter a normal soul from lobbying any jabs, but no-no, henny. Ms. Patti LaBelle is no normal being, and she’s regretting that gel manicure she got on Monday because it’s Wednesday, and she’s ready to (subtly) sink her claws in to Miss A-Screech-a Franklin.
PrideSource has a habit of landing scorched-earth interviews with Ms. LaBelle, and – hallelujer – she did not hold back this go-round. Back in 2014, she cooed how she no longer deemed herself a diva because the term was synonymous with a bargain sale at Big Lots, because “all these little heifers who can’t sing are called divas.” Patti has a jazz album, Bel Hommage, to peddle, and nothing pairs better with jazz than a nice red wine and a bowl o’ shit-stirred soup.
In case you forget, there was rumored beef between the Queen of Soul and Patti after the latter began hawking sweet potato pie. Aretha must not like carb-heavy desserts because she said, “Ms. Patti’s gonna have to move that pie to the side” and started a rival food line of chili, gumbo, chicken, and desserts. The interviewer asked about the legendary feud, and I’m sure Ryan Murphy was penning every last word to her response so he never gets dropped from the F/X payroll. Ms. P replied:
“Now, there are a lot of ladies in this industry who don’t care for Patti LaBelle – and some gentleman, also – but I look at them and I smile. Because what can I do? I can’t change your mind, boo, because I don’t wanna change your mind. You go on thinkin’ about me the way you think.”
I mean, in Patti’s defense, that’s a lot nicer than she could have been. She could have just been like, “That witch is a disservice to wigs. When she gets Cissy Houston to sing on cue, I’ll deign her worthy of a true reply.” Patti’s interview is pretty long, but some highlights include her dispelling a common myth that gays don’t eat carbs:
Gays don’t eat carbs – who said that?! Every gay guy I know, they eat carbs. They eat my pies, honey! And my peach cobbler. You have to go to Walmart, or I’ll have to come and make you one personally.
Patti! We may definitely eat carbs, but we certainly don’t shop at Walmart! You better come over and channel the Barefoot Contessa of Detroit and make one personally! She also calls Cheeto “Trumpette” and that the trans ban in the military is a real witch. What’s an even bigger witch is how she better get on down to FedEx Office pronto: I’m sure she should be expecting an incoming fax in 3…2…