Madonna is so amazing that, she apparently fears, her fans may just want to steal her DNA. So she does what any normal person would do: She has a “sterilization team” charged with wiping down her dressing room after every gig so that no stray hair, skin, or saliva remains. The Mirror gets this fascinating tidbit from a concert promoter in Portugal, where the Material Girl’s tour arrived yesterday; he adds that Madonna’s team also builds the entire dressing area using fake ceilings and walls, to ensure there are no hidden cameras. Read more…
Madonna is taking a major stand against cigarette smoking — just one month after glamorizing smoking in her latest music video. The Queen of Pop was on ”Today” this morning, where she was grilled over 15-year-old daughter Lourdes being caught puffing away on a cigarette.
Madge says she “wasn’t very happy” about the photos, adding “I don’t approve of anyone smoking cigarettes, most of all my daughter.” Read more…
After half a century on this planet, Madonna has creative expression and power, intellectual curiosity, beautiful children, financial security (and then some), and a team of friends and colleagues who she can love and trust. Only one thing is missing.
Madonna needs a mensch. A good man, a stand-up guy with means and influence. “Mensch” is a Yiddish word meaning “a person of integrity and honor.” Yiddish lexicologist Leo Rosten says a mensch is “someone to admire and emulate, someone of noble character. The key to being a real mensch is nothing less than a sense of what is right, responsible, decorous.”
I’m thinking that since Madonna got such a life-affirming boost from Kabbalah, maybe she would be equally inspired by a Jewish connection in her love life. Keep reading »
Madonna’s book was large and black, with SEX embossed on the front. The coffee-table book of all coffee-table books was an enigma to me, sort of like Madonna herself. One day she was telling you to “Open Your Heart” and the next she was telling you to open your legs, but whatever her message, people were listening. To Brad, my new gay friend, Madonna’s book was the Holy Grail. To me, a tough biracial girl from a small town in Pennsylvania, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Hadn’t we seen her naked already? But I stood next to him in his freshman dorm room itching for a glimpse; there were rumors of bestiality and naked pictures of Vanilla Ice. Cradling the book on his forearm, Brad opened it to a random page and the words “I like my p**sy. Sometimes I stare at it in the mirror” burned up my retinas. My face got hot and I smoothed a hand over my brittle straightened hair. Keep reading »