Sometimes, The Material Girl is the sexually charged songstress posing nude for a coffee table book or dry humping one of her tour dancers. Next, she’s the primly dressed children’s book author trying to be a good role model for her own kids.

This week, the latter piped up to chastise singer M.I.A. for flipping the audience the bird during Madonna’s Super Bowl halftime show.

Madonna has taken to the airwaves to express her disappointment with M.I.A.’s decision to flip the bird at cameras during the halftime show, calling the move a “teenager … irrelevant thing to do.” Madge was chatting with Ryan Seacrest about her performance when he brought up the incident.

To the pop star, the middle finger was simply “out of place” at a show characterized by “such a feeling of love and good energy and positivity.

M.I.A. would have better served the event by making out with another woman, apparently.

One wonders if Madonna has truly learned the error of her shocking ways, or if she’s grumpy people are still talking about M.I.A. and not her.

Some think her career is pure marketing and her fans believe she’s a real trend setter. There has always been a wide range of opinions about this woman, an entertainer who has enough monikers to be in the witness protection program. As her personal life has evolved through marriages, children and boyfriends, her songs are what are more familiar to people.

For the first time since she became famous, she got to be the star attraction at the Super Bowl Halftime Show. What aspect of her performance did people focus on? Her voice? Nope. What she wore? Not really. Her new song? Sure, a little. Her age? Bingo, report her to AARP, stat!

How dare she try to pull off that type of show as a woman who has experienced more than three decades on the planet? Perish the thought! She has some nerve being on that stage and lifting her leg up at the age of 53. Where are her Mom jeans with the elastic waist? How could she be in high-heeled, thigh high boots when she knows she should be in Easy Spirits? This is even more of an abomination than her performance in “Swept Away.”

Doesn’t she know that woman over 35, let alone 40 in this country, are considered older than Methuselah? You mean she has no clue that she should be referring to herself as “long in the tooth” “an old bag” and a “has-been.” Doesn’t she realize that she has to grow into her date of birth by talking about things she can’t do anymore? Where is her rheumatoid arthritis? COPD? High cholesterol? She should be punished for doing a jumping jack.

Just check the reaction to her performance on social media outlets if you think I am exaggerating.

It is amazing that in 2012, with the way racism and homophobia have been addressed – and rightfully so – that ageism rage against woman is on perpetual mute. Hello, media, I’m talking to you, too.

Let’s substitute Mick Jagger for Madonna at the same age doing the same moves. There would barely be a mention of his cumulative years. I remember when he was 53 and it was a blip, if that. Jagger is now approaching 70, and when he announces a new music project it’s applauded. Harrison Ford (69), George Clooney (51), Denzel Washington (56), Brad Pitt (48) are revered, immortalized and sought after for tons of opportunities without hesitation as to how their crow’s feet or beer bellies may look on the big screen. Regis Philbin got the “Millionaire” gig at almost 70.

TV executives would run over their Bishons before they would hand a new hosting gig to a talented woman in a similar age bracket. Please spare me that Meryl Streep or Helen Mirren still work. That’s because producers know these ladies can deliver no matter what crappy script they are handed. Betty White is getting a little attention now, and that’s because she is making fun of herself.

I wish I had a nickel for every time someone mentioned how old Jennifer Grey was when she appeared on “Dancing with the Stars.” When Susan Lucci wrote her autobiography last year every interviewer wanted to focus on her age and why she didn’t mention hot flashes in her book.

The realm of politics is no better. Hillary Clinton’s age is highlighted constantly as to how she would be too old if she were to to run for President, yet John McCain was how old and could barely communicate – I rest my case (this has nothing to do with who I would vote for).

This cuts across, race, income bracket and political persuasions. I thought liberal Democrats were suppose to be so open, so unwilling to judge. Ha! I have never seen so much judgment since my last family gathering. As for conservative Republicans, don’t be so full of yourselves. You’re just as bad. This isn’t a bi-partisan problem. This is a life problem.

We need to stop taking someone’s age and putting them in categories based on physical and emotional expectations. Everyone has different experiences, lifestyles, choices and genetics.

These judgments are printed and said out loud, and then they seep into people’s minds and become embedded in society. It halts opportunities and, let’s be realistic, at the rate we’re all going, our work years are increasing and we need to be open to all age brackets of people working and not just the twenty something crowd. There is no true price for good experience, no matter what the profession.

Similar to the opinions of Madonna on a more miniscule level, you will either like or dislike this article depending on what your mindset is. However, if I can get you to take a moment to think about your daughter, niece, mother or grandmother and think about the injustices, then I have communicated effectively. “Like a Prayer,” I hope things at the very least change for our girls who growing up now.

The gesture, accompanied by a barely disguised expletive, came during a performance of Madonna’s new single, “Give Me All Your Luvin.’” At the end of her lines, M.I.A. appeared to sing “I don’t give a (expletive),” although it was hard to hear clearly.

The incident was reminiscent of Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” eight years ago — a surprise risque moment in front of tens of millions of unsuspecting viewers. The brief exposure of Jackson’s nipple during the 2004 halftime show raised a storm of controversy and put CBS in hot water with the Federal Communications Commission.

The Super Bowl, shown on NBC this year, is routinely viewed by more than 100 million people, the biggest TV event of the year.

The screen briefly went blurred after M.I.A.’s gesture in what seemed like a late attempt to cut out the camera shot. The NFL, which produces the show, had no immediate comment.

Madonna had admittedly been nervous about her performance, hoping to position herself as the queen of a new generation of pop stars with an opulent show and a sharp performance that mixed her new release with more familiar songs. She seemed like Roman royalty when muscle-bound men carried her extravagant throne across the football field to the stage for her opening song, “Vogue.”

Guests Cee Lo and dance rockers LMFAO also appeared with M.I.A. The singing and dancing on “Vogue” was smartly choreographed, as Madonna moved more deliberately — she is 53 — but still adroitly. She briefly appeared to stumble at one point while trying to make a step on the stage set, but recovered in time.

She let a tightrope walker make the more acrobatic moves during a performance of “Music.”

Madonna carried gold pompons for a performance of her new single. Twitter was alight with questions about the vocals being lip synched or augmented by tapes, particularly during this song.

The best guest was clearly Cee Lo, who joined Madonna for the final song, “Like a Prayer.” They were joined by a robed chorus in the show’s most soaring performance. With a puff of white smoke, Madonna disappeared down a trap door in the stage, and lights on the field spelled out “World Peace.”

The veteran star’s vocals were not strong throughout, lending to a sense of distance. Still, the finger incident is the more likely headline from the event.

Earlier, Kelly Clarkson, Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert offered some pregame patriotism. Shelton and Lambert did a twangy duet on “America the Beautiful” and Clarkson, in a simple black dress, sang “The Star Spangled Banner” without a hitch after last year’s performer, Christina Aguilera, flubbed a line.

Madonna, the 50-something shock singer, kept it mostly clean during her Super Bowl performance Sunday. She flashed a tiny amount of thigh and flirted harmlessly with some of her male dance squad, but that was about it. She left the skin-baring chores to the hulking gladiator types around the stage.

The only tension came from guest singer M.I.A. who appeared to flash the middle finger at the end of one of Madonna’s highly choreographed numbers.

The Material Girl meshed flawlessly with the typically over-produced halftime show segment, belting out a barrage of her greatest hits as well as her new single, “Give Me All Your Lovin.’” She kicked off the set singing “Vogue” while dressed as a quasi-Egyptian songstress. At times she appeared as stiff as one of those Egyptian paintings.

The popular “Music” followed, as Madonna left the more acrobatic moves to her agile backing dancers. The singer confessed she was nursing a leg injury in the days before the big show, and it clearly kept her theatrics to a minimum.

It’s hard to say conclusively that Madonna was singing to an existing track, but she didn’t miss a single note nor did she offer any tweaks to her familiar lyrics.

She broke out a pair of golden pom-poms for “Lovin,’” a cheerleader-heavy segment that seemed to cry out for at least a few “Glee” cast members.

“Like a Prayer” wrapped the show on a semi-high note, especially when guest star Cee Lo Green stole the stage and the song from the main attraction.

Madonna ended the show by disappearing in a flash of stage smoke, the words “world peace” left in her wake.

The fallout from Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” back in 2004 ensured subsequent acts were chosen for their family-friendly appeal. That meant older, less threatening rockers like U2, Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty got the call, while Lady Gaga was left to watch the game at home on her big screen TV.

That, inexplicably enough, leads us to Madonna. The Material Girl will be performing at the Super Bowl halftime show Feb. 5 along with Cirque du Soleil.

Madonna has come a long way, baby.

The 50-something songstress started her career as a flashy – but mostly clean – singer belting out hits like “Borderline” and “Lucky Star.” She quickly ramped up her sex appeal, published a naughty coffee table book and incorporated all manner of lewd behavior into her stage act.

In short, she reveled in shocking us early and often, and the media couldn’t get enough of her. Then, motherhood came calling, and suddenly Madonna seemed more interested in writing children’s books than offending the masses.

The Super Bowl gig means Madonna has come full circle. It’s a sign of maturation, both professional and personal, and an understanding that shock value has a limited shelf life.

Pop icon Madonna made a name for herself by exploiting her sexuality, celebrating the loss of cherished virginity, hitchhiking in the nude, and singing songs with explicit, blasphemous lyrics. She did so caring little about how impressionable children would be tainted by her morally corrupt influence.

Then, when Madonna became a mother herself, she banned television and magazines in her home. To shield her kids from the pornographic obscenity she promoted in the book Sex, and in an effort to preserve their purity, Madonna penned wholesome children’s books like Mr. Peabody’s Apples and The Adventures of Abdi.

Over the years, Madonna has transformed herself over and over again, first into a sadomasochistic sex slave, channeled Evita Perón to the point of naming her daughter Lourdes, married Guy Ritchie, adopted a British accent, and moved to the English countryside. She’s taken the Hebrew Kabala name Esther and joined the Angelina Jolie/Sandra Bullock/Mariska Hargitay adopt-a-black-baby club. Now, she’s settled into middle-aged doting mother mode.

Like any parent, with family safety and well-being the priority, Madonna was “alarmed and distressed” when earlier this year, a Polish national named Grzegorz Matlok broke into the star’s London townhouse.Thankfully, Matlok was arrested after he was “allegedly discovered in the singer’s home, nine months after breaking into the country house she shared with ex-husband Guy Ritchie.”

Recently, at England’s Southwark Crown Court, Madonna, a woman who has spent her entire career leaving parents around the world concerned for their daughters’ developing morality, read a victim impact statement, saying that the scary stalker incident was “extremely unsettling.” Madonna shared with the court that “I do not know the defendant, have never had any relationship with the defendant. I have never had any contact with the defendant, either by phone or by email, or any other way. I have never given him permission to enter the premises or any of my other premises.”

How ironic. For 30 years, by way of her music, videos, coffee table pornography, and obscene displays such as French-kissing Britney Spears at the Grammy awards, Madonna – without permission, “either by phone or email, or any other way” – felt comfortable entering uninvited into the hearts and minds of millions of gullible adolescents.

Understandably, the ex- Mrs. Ritchie felt “alarmed and distressed by the actions of the defendant.” Expressing vulnerability, Madonna said that “It’s extremely unsettling to know that despite the extensive security I have he [was] able to break in to two residential properties owned by me.”

Tell us about it, Madonna. That anxious feeling is quite familiar to parents unable to protect their preteen daughters who could be heard singing “Papa Don’t Preach” or devout parents whose children lost respect for the Catholic Church thanks to the blasphemy portrayed in “Like a Prayer.”

Madonna told the court that she felt “alarmed and distressed by the [perpetrator’s] actions” and was worried about the “safety of [her] children, all of [whom are] under 18.”

Well, talk about Madonna getting in touch with what it feels like for a parent struggling not to “Let Down [Their] Guard” only to have the emotional, physical and developmental integrity of their children exploited by a stranger with an unending drive to attain fame and fortune.

If placed on trial like Matlok, who “admitted burgling Madonna’s office in London … but denied two charges of burglary relating to her house,” Madonna would likely admit that her vulgar actions did have a harmful influence on young psyches, but would deny any accusation that she purposely robbed children of their innocence.

By attempting to shield her young family from violation, Madonna’s protectiveness proves she was well aware of the damage she thoughtlessly caused for almost three decades. Yet, to date, the music legend has never offered an apology to either parents or the children who, thanks to her, were “Burning Up” long before their time.

Thankfully, Matlok will no longer be a threat and was “locked up indefinitely under the Mental Health Act after doctors found he posed a ‘serious risk’ to Madonna.” Thus, the pop star can rest easy knowing that a person who entered uninvited into her home and threatened the safety of her children can no longer menace her or her family, a luxury parents all over the world were never afforded when it came to protecting their children from a dangerous intruder named Madonna.

An average kid with moderate talent, since her late teens, between acting, mothering, cooking, and singing, Gwyneth Paltrow has subjected America to incessant rounds of painful “No wait…let me start again,” off-tempo renditions of Für Elise followed by impromptu tap-dancing exhibitions by a grown woman who might as well be dressed in a tight pink tutu.

Gwynie (I like to call her Gwynie) is an attractive woman with a superior gift of imitating British accents.  Ms. Paltrow started her career in Hollywood when her mother, actress Blythe Danner, and her father, the late director Bruce Paltrow, together with family friend Steven Spielberg brokered a deal and got her a starring gig in the movies at 19 years of age.

An unabashed recipient of Hollywood nepotism, after winning an Academy Award for Shakespeare in Love Gwyneth was crowned the “Muse” of Miramax studios by film producer Harvey Weinstein.  Since that day, Gwyneth has been nothing short of unbearable.

Raised in Massachusetts, Gwynie moved back to Los Angeles where her career and love life with Brad Pitt took off. Paltrow traveled the world, and now speaks British-style English, French, Spanish, and a little Italian. Gwen even married a temperamental British rock star – Chris Martin of Coldplay – who she’d never have met without the benefit of a VIP backstage pass.

After adopting London as her new home, Ms. Gwyneth, in classic Madonna I’m Evita-I’m British-I’m a single mom to a couple of African kids- mode, dissed America, set up house in Berkshire Gardens, and practiced her fake English accent while taking children Apple and Moses to buy groceries in trendy food shops.

Over the years the only thing more irritating than Paltrow feigning a British accent in the movie Sliding Doors was seeing her accepted as a gourmet cook. Gwyneth Paltrow even traveled with Mario Batali through Spain and lunched with Ina Garten, the “I’m cooking a fabulous dinner for my good friend Gwyneth” Barefoot Contessa.

After soaking fava beans became too much of a chore, Ms. Paltrow re-focused and said “I could do that. I bet I could do that,” and decided to resuscitate her former career as a Duet singer, but not just a singer, a country singer, which right there was weird enough for a woman who spent so much of her life practicing speaking with a British accent. Nevertheless, two weeks into her revitalized singing career golden child Gwyneth was starring in the movie Country Strong.

Soon after, Paltrow showed up on the 2011 Grammy Awards singing “Forget You” with the Muppets and Cee Lo Green and vamping around in a precociously overconfident number on Glee.  Mrs. Coldplay’s routine was rivaled only by Katie Holmes embarrassing herself while torturing the nation on So You Think You can Dance.

The desire to share her varied gifts must have motivated Paltrow to go beyond her expertise in thespianism, Epicureanism, and crooning, because in addition to mastering all three, Paltrow created Goop.com, a place where a Renaissance woman could branch out, blog, and author an informative newsletter.

At Goop.com, the artiste/chef/chanteuse tells readers: “Make, Go, Get, Do, Be and See.”  The only way to describe the venture is that Goop is authored by an overindulged, self-impressed, spoiled rich kid sharing navel-gazing insights into experiences, locations, products, and ideas few people will ever encounter, let alone be able to afford.  Can anyone say “Clueless?”

Paltrow’s Oprah-style New Age views are a cacophony of beliefs similar to the Cheese Board area of Goop’s “Make” section. While Gwyneth’s channeling of Tammy Wynette, making Duck Ragu, recommending skin products from a French pharmacy, and explaining the Year of the Tiger is irritating, it is still all relatively harmless. However, her views on religion, philosophy and sexuality step out of the Christian Louboutin realm and into the downright unappreciated.

Case in point: Gwyneth recently introduced her seven year-old daughter Apple, whose name was chosen because it was “Biblical,” to the idea of lesbianism. Mom assured the tyke that her classmate, who had two Mommies, was “lucky,” after which she implied on Goop that she didn’t know the answer to the question: “What does it actually say in the Bible that will cause some people to be upset by my line of thinking?”  You mean besides confusing a first grader?

I don’t buy the feigned perplexed confusion, because based on Gwyneth Paltrow’s history the query was more of a challenge than a question.  It’s likely that Paltrow has already resolved the issue and feels totally confident that, even if the Bible and God Himself doesn’t support her “line of thinking,” hers is still the right answer, because in Gwyneth Paltrow’s superior world her answer is correct simply because it’s hers.

It’s not just that her music is bad – though it is, an intermittently catchy collection of overproduced beats laid over nonsense lyrics that would embarrass a slow-witted high school sophomore.  It’s not just that her singing is reminiscent of the hum of a dental drill, a monotonous, atonal mind-chisel that – when combined with her inane lyrics – reminds one of the chanting of some unholy love child of Rain Man and Tiny Tim.  

And it’s not just that she’s pretentious, presenting herself as the sorta-androgynous spoke-being for a coterie of alleged nonconformists whose nonconformity is expressed via rigid conformity to GaGa’s vision of pseudo-transgressive fashions and brain-dead self-affirming slogans.

No, the biggest problem with Lady GaGa isn’t that she’s another lame pop star.  It’s that she’s so damn boring.

As an act of personal sacrifice, I listened to the sneak release of her latest song, an atrocity called “Judas.”  If you want to share my pain, be my guest, but don’t say you weren’t warned.  The Huffington Post, your number one source for all things that suck, is right on top of the earthshaking cultural event that is “Judas”:

The song and video are told from Mary Magdelene’s perspective, with lyrics such as, “When he comes to me, I am ready/ I’ll wash his feet with my hair if he needs/ Forgive him when his tongue lies through his brain/ Even after three times, he betrays me/ I’ll bring him down, a king with no crown…”

Wow.  Heavy.  I guess I’m supposed to be one of those bourgeois squares whose mind is going to be blown by GagGa’s willingness to take on those terrifying Christians.  I’m here to report, however, that the only thing that blows is the song.

First, not being one of the socially retarded 18-25 years old shut-ins who make up her rabid fan base, I know that Lady GaGa is not blazing some sort of new path here but, rather, is trodding down the same dull superhighway of anti-Christian imagery that’s been going on forever.  I was around when Madonna did the same crappy song a quarter century ago, except back then it was called “Like a Prayer.” 

Poor Rebecca Black has gotta be sitting there pondering the unfairness of all the dissing she’s endured and thinking “Heck, I’m only fourteen.  I have an excuse!”  At least “Friday” has no pretensions – it’s just a terrible, terrible pop song.  But Lady GaGa thinks she’s making a statement, and the problem is that there are millions of mindless nimrods out there who probably agree – though none of them could articulate just what the statement is with any greater specificity than some lame self-empowerment mantra like “I gotta be who I am in order to be the most me I can be!”

Again, I remind you that these quarter-wits can, or soon will be able to, vote.  And many of them have or will breed. 

I’m not angry at Lady GaGa exploiting my religion to sell records – it’s not like some future musical footnote who delights her dimwitted fans by dressing in a gown made of rib-eyes is going to do to Christianity what the Romans, the Moors and the liberal wing of the Democratic party have been unable to do. 

No, I’m bored, and I’m disgusted with her fans who settle for so little.  Lady GaGa – geez, I even hate writing out that ridiculous moniker – is merely another in a long line of pompous “artists” who try to provoke…badly… and end up just being tedious.  Great, Gaga, you played off some Bible verses – what else ya got? 

You know, the Sex Pistols blew minds because they attacked a target that could and would actually fight back.  When they cranked out “God Save the Queen,” they were taking on (among other things) a society’s ridiculous embrace of the bizarre concept of royalty – and it was risky.  People in Britain liked the monarchy – Johnny and Sid and the gang weren’t just risking their record deal and airplay but they stood the real chance of getting their punk asses kicked.  You think if Bobbie Law had decided to put a little scrutiny on the Pistols’ lifestyle they couldn’t have found enough to lock the boys up for a couple of decades? 

—–

“Anarchy In the UK” wasn’t just a publicity stunt (although it absolutely was that too; Malcolm McLaren rules) – it was reality.  In contrast, Lady GaGa is merely a little girl playing dress-up blasphemy.  The biggest “risk” she’s running is a scathing press release from the Catholic League’s Bill Donahue fulminating impotently as usual about this latest industry “outrage.”  He’s the go-to guy for entertainment sites when some pretentious twerp tries to cash in by trashing the church – he ought to demand a percentage off the back end. 

“Judas” is not just a terrible song – it’s so very much less.  It is pathetic posturing by a “nonconformist” who conforms exactly to every preconceived notion of the liberal elite about religion, about culture and about everything else.  The only way Lady GaGa could ever blow my mind is if she wore an Ayn Rand costume onstage and sang about looking for John Galt. 

As for mining the Christian imagery, well, you’d think that mother-lode would be running a bit dry by now after a few decades of every would-be transgressive tunester tossing some cross/rosary/nun iconography into his or her or s/his videos.  Yawn.

But maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe she really does want to provoke, to take a real risk, to make a real statement about real repression.  So I eagerly await Lady GaGa’s next big hit featuring a bunch of burka-clad women casting off the clothes that symbolize their oppression while gay Muslim men throw stones back at the savage primitives who would murder them.  She can title the song, “See, I’m Not Just a Hypocritical Poser Who Takes On Only Targets That I Know Will Never, Ever Do Anything About It.” 

Yeah, that’ll happen.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Hollywood is a competitive place to live and work.  People who live and work there know that it might be the most competitive place to live in the entire world.  The drive to succeed, to find an edge that propels you to the next level can be very compelling for those who are weak.  Of those who crave the sort of attention that might compel them into the snake pit that is Hollywood, psychologists could agree that components in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs are lacking in key areas such as confidence, friendship, and even morality.  All of these mid-level needs should be met for healthy development of creativity, intellect, problem solving, and other high-level needs.  Maslow might reason that in the desperate setting of Hollywood, the underdevelopment of needs like morality, confidence, respect of self and from others might lead to the malformative finding of one’s self at the top of the triangle, with many of the more basic needs still lacking.  In Abraham Maslow’s terms, this is a recipe for disaster of philosophical incorporation.

Other factors contribute to misintegration of philosophical synthesis, as well.

Artists are often dependent on state funding.  This may elicit a reactionary response whereby an artist who might otherwise be conservative is immediately comfortable with the idea of government finance and control in order to meet her basic needs as enumerated in the physiological component of Maslow’s needs (food, water, sex, sleep, survival).

Artists know that success is often found in pushing boundaries.  Art is usually only cutting edge once, and genres tend to have a shelf life.  There is only one O’Keefe, only one Eastwood, only one Bach.  Those genres, recomposed for today, would not have the impact because they already did.  The easiest way to create a niche is to push a boundary (for example, Ke$ha, Katie Perry, Madonna). Preserving tradition often results in preserving the status quo, and taking that to a level of marketable creativity is only for the artistic genius (It’s a Wonderful Life; The Passion; The Blind Side; Amazing Grace).  The reality is that not all artists are geniuses.  Therefore, they will be tempted to crutch on breaking norms to accomplish notoriety, rather than rely on genius they don’t have, or hope to have.

Erich Fromm said, “If I am what I have, and I lose what I have, who am I?”  His ominous warning told a tale of the reality of someone who does not properly and systematically actualize.   

Creativity is usually born of deep emotional angst.  In order to tap into the deepest of creative ability, it is often necessary to dwell on emotions others have the convenience of glossing over.  We are all sad when we experience the death of a pet.  The creator of King Kong had to not only experience the death of an animal, he had to think of every complexity, and focus in depth on the emotional trauma in order to invite his audience to experience it on film.  While we all at some point are witness to the death of an animal, the writers and producers of King Kong had to delve into every painful portion of those experiences, contemplate it, ruminate on it, and experiment with it in order to assure that his audience would live the most compelling parts of that loss in the movie.  The result of all this is that the artist dwells in the realm of emotion.  While all of us experience emotion, the rest of us have the luxury of moving on.  Not the artist.  He has to dissect it, magnify it, and live it for months on end.  Then, like some cruel joke, the artist is often rewarded for his attention to detail in describing for all of us the precise most painful components of pain, loss, grief, insecurity, and other emotional parts. Thus, the artist is conditioned in a Pavlovian way to act based on emotion. It would seem natural that he would then transpose that action on other elements of his life, including his marriage, his friendships, and his politics.

Artists are not paid for tapping into the power of rationale, but rather, the power of emotion.  Therefore, they have no real reason to exercise or even acknowledge the rational argument of a situation.  Much of art is fantasy to begin with, for example, one would not appreciate the movie King Kong if the artist explained how a giant gorilla couldn’t really do what his movie depicted.  The Harry Potter films would flop, Poe would be a side note, Monet would have sunk right into his pond, and the Twilight would be bankrupt.   When an artist takes a look at how to “fix” a social or economic problem, it shouldn’t surprise us that they are looking for heroes and villains, for victims and perpetrators, and for bigger than life fantasies that aren’t based in reality (and therefore won’t work).

Artists are not trained to delve into the gray.  They are trained to define the absolutes such as living, dying, good, bad, heaven, and hell in ways that most of us never really have to face.  Therefore, when it comes time for an artist to consider possibilities, and rational conclusion in areas like politics that they don’t know, their mind immediately goes to the dramatic—the victim, the hero; the winner, the loser; the angel, the demon.

To further complicate matters, man has an innate need for God, or religion.  Conservatives argue that such needs are God breathed, but liberals have to try to push those needs aside.  Artists, who tend to be deeply emotional, sociologically less adept, and psychologically needier than the basic population, arguably have a deeper need for God than any other professional population. Liberalism, in it’s cult-like compulsion toward legalistically defined behavior as dictated by leaders (bankers, producers, dealers, funders) in Hollywood, and one that provides a sort of moral promise of victory, can be very alluring.  This allure meets the higher level Maslovian esteem needs that the artist may not be prepared for if he has not met the lower level needs, as he has not in many cases.  Thus, liberalism becomes a pseudo religion whereby answers to other unmet Maslovian needs promise to be met somehow; some way.   As the expectation continues to exceed the outcome, the artist may grow weary of their religion of “Liberalism,” and make the switch!  This may explain why many artists become conservatives later in life (Mark Twain, Charlton Heston, Ronald Reagan).

This predisposition toward emotionality and validation would make the most sound minded, conservative-leaning artist somewhat reactionary.  The combination of gratification for emotional response to stimulus, and the fact that most artists deal in a fictional depiction of absolutes would naturally lead to a skewed perception of how people really work.  Artists are not rewarded for reality.  They are rewarded most often for their dramatic, condensed representation of what reality could be.

So the question becomes then—why do artists feel compelled or qualified to delve into the political when they have no training for it at all, and even their life experience lacks credentials necessary to relate to real Americans who don’t live in Hollywood?  Should they not simply exclude themselves, much like a judge does when she knows she has conflicting experience that might impede her rational judgment in a case?   Well, no, because we believe in freedom under the US Constitution—even under the knowledge that freedom could result in loss of liberties for having them.

In Frontpagemag.com, John J. Ray has a theory about fame and ego that is too good to paraphrase:

My basic proposal, then, is that most (but not all) Leftists/liberals are motivated by strong ego needs — needs for power, attention, praise and fame. And in the USA and other developed countries they satisfy this need by advocating large changes in the society around them — thus drawing attention to themselves and hopefully causing themselves to be seen as wise, innovative, caring etc. Rightists by contrast have no need either for change or its opposite and may oppose change if they see it as destructive or favour  change if they see it as constructive.

We will see below why one of the most consistent themes to emerge from the Leftist’s love of change is the claimed need for “equality”. And the belief in “equality” also tends to lead to support for such things as redistribution of wealth generally, heavily “progressive” income taxes, inheritance taxes, foreign aid, feminism, gay rights and socialized medicine. Again for reasons explored below, Leftists also tend to oppose religion and the churches and this in turn tends to mean that they favour abortion and oppose or obstruct religious schooling in various ways. So let us now briefly look at some of these characteristic Leftist/liberal themes to see how they relate to basic Leftist motives.

And he concludes:

But in all cases, bitter experience has shown that Leftists in power are very dangerous and destructive people. Where their power is effectively unchecked, they generally seem to resort sooner or later to mass murder (as in the case of the French revolutionaries, Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Pol Pot, Jim Jones and many Communist regimes and movements worldwide) and where they are partially thwarted by strong democratic traditions and institutions, they at least bring about large-scale impoverishment (as in post-independence India and pre-Thatcher Britain).

All people including artists want to believe that their work is meaningful and significant.  For artists, this propels their belief that human nature is changeable with proper “education” which thereby gives credence to their work.  Thus, to believe in their own meaningful output of work product, they must fancy themselves “educators” capable of changing people in important ways.

If you believe, as I do, and as John J. Ray does, that liberalism is inherently destructive and conservatism, while imperfect, is the far better alternative, then you need to know that my psychological training perceives hope on the horizon, because of the current liberal artists’ dilemma: the liberal artist is marketing today to a glowingly conservative consumer.  Conservatives are crying out for family oriented, morally compelling, traditional values that once graced the silver screen and our television sets.  The heart of America is sentimental for a turn back to the roots of Hollywood.  If the market is demanding enough, it just might result in the artists resorting to Maslow’s Hierarchy to make a living to meet their basic needs, and that might look a lot like the recent mid term elections when we just threw the bastards out and changed the course of history.

Bravo, Hollywood.  The best is yet to come.

Multiple births are the new Mercedes.

The only married couple I know, Bob and Bruce, come over every so often to teach my boys how to be men, and then take them shopping for child-appropriate skincare and those awesome bio-degradable Chanel onesies I’ve seen on many fatherless celebrity babies.

When Bob and Bruce are busy, the guys I pick up at the bar the night before hang out with them for guy-time. This is handy because I learn these men’s names as they introduce themselves to my brood. Once they are acquainted I can get to work on my new fragrance line without worrying about the rugrats.

Had a real job back in 2008, but that stable, pre-proto-feminist lifestyle is so not important these days. Who needs jobs and money when you can be featured in a reality show and/or dance with the stars while pretending to not exploit your friends, family and children?

I’m in talks with MTV, VH1 and MSNBC (Keith Olbermann is not happy, I am vying for his time-slot to boost ratings). They are really psyched as I plan to release my sex tape (with John Edwards, because John Edward wasn’t available that night. He was communicating with my dead Grandma, who, as it turns out, is totally in favor of me releasing my X-rated shenanigans and likes the samples from my proposed clothing line).

Anyway, so glad I was enlightened — you don’t have to get married in order to have kids. Out of wedlock births used to be taboo. Morals are so 1985! Like the shoulder pads on Sarah Palin’s suits. My friends Alex and Robin are going through a divorce and little Beatrice is traumatized over how she will survive without both of her mommies, but at least they’ve worked out a custody agreement for the nannies.

Before I go on, I need to address a serious rumor that has nearly ruined my life. It’s absolutely false that Michaele Salahi was wearing the same Vera Wang dress as I was on the red carpet at Rahm Emanuel’s annual tutu auction. It wasn’t even the same color! Regardless, Michaele wasn’t invited to crash the event. It is often whispered she didn’t vote for God Jr. because the elections interfered with her regularly scheduled botox appointment. My friend in DC said Michaele once dropped the N-bomb in front of Arianna Huffington, and promptly checked herself into celebrity rehab and missed the Oscars. How gauche.

Anyway, I am participating in a unique green genetic program, implemented by those pro-life freaks, it’s basically embryo recycling and approved by Al Gore. I think I’ve finally found an embryo that is guaranteed African, Asian, American-Indian, Middle-Eastern and Canadian. Canadians are like synonyms for human beings, it’s exactly the same as buying something from a designer’s trunk sale. If you don’t say anything, no one will know the difference. And it’s so politically correct – my next child’s carbon footprint will be blacker than Al Gore’s. Please help me raise awareness for saving the earth, one embryo at a time.

Also, do let me know about your views on the post-modern feminist lifestyle in the comments. Oh, I will be out of town for the next few days, so I might not respond promptly, or my assistant will respond in my absence. I was so traumatized by the latest paparazzi photo of me stepping out of a limo, I briefly considered wearing panties. Instead, I’m headed to Cuba (where they have the world’s best free health care) to get things tightened up down there. Meanwhile, I’m going to hang out with my older children who are 7 and 19, watch some Happy Days reruns, and teach them about wine.