Madonna, My Hero
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to he man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.” - Theodore Roosevelt -
Please Note: The following material is meant for a mature audience only. Read at your own risk. Really, I’m warning you, good down and dirty, very human stuff…Don’t blame me if it riles you…
Madonna, Please Have My Baby
I was making love to Madonna.
Well, actually, I was schtooping her, giving it to her really good.
And yet, then again, in the heat of the moment, it felt more like an amalgamation of both pure tenderness and rabid lasciviousness.
Half-naked, she was on top of me, riding-grinding slowly, smiling, when, along with a good old-fashioned erection, I felt a sudden pang of affection swell up inside of me.
Whimsically I professed, “I love you Madonna,” and we both laughed, for it felt strange to address her by her popular mononym, even if it really is her given name. I smiled and was about to whisper something endearing into her ear when all of the sudden—
the bloody alarm went off.
“Fuck,” I thought.
“Just one more hour of sleep,” I subsequently decided, as consolation.
So, I reset the alarm for 5:30, fully intending to reunite with my Norma Jeanne in the sleepy and serene pocket of deep somnolence.
Alas, as I lie half-awake, struggling to remain still enough to regain that blessed connection, time flew by so fast and unnoticed that when the alarm went off again it felt as if a mere five minutes had passed.
Accepting that my opportunity to sleep with Ms. Ciccone had all but slipped and land-slided away, I lied in bed—“just for a few more minutes”—to ponder my fate.
I thought about how truly fond I am of Madonna, someone I consider to be a contemporary heroine of sorts. For regardless of how many people make fun of her and deride her publicity stunts as tasteless, I think she’s fantastic, truly an exceptional human being who constantly strives to achieve more while fulfilling her potential and inspiring others to do much the same.
Moreover, she’s courageous, unafraid to expose herself and make bold commercial moves; she’s tenacious, at 40 still performing and traveling on relentless the tour circuit, still recording albums and writing (children’s) books and raising Lola; and she’s beautiful, not only because she maintains her health, not wiling to give into middle age and easily retire from the arduous and audacious life of the celebrity, but also in the spiritual sense she is seemingly highly evolved. For not only is it well known that she practices Kabbalah, but along with her integrity, public poise and highly-developed individuality, she demonstrates an impressive feat of self-actualization. And so, despite the onslaught of puritanical criticism, she appears to be is as true to herself as each one of us should be to ourselves.
That said, even though in my fully conscious life I sincerely admire her, admittedly, I was slightly disappointed when I realized that I wasn’t really in bed with her after all, this morning.
Ah! But I did get to sleep an extra hour, and a little more even before a phantom concierge “called me” to wake me up again and make sure that I did not oversleep. It was an eerie experience, because as I sat up I had an intense feeling of gratitude, wondering who the mysterious character was that had graciously stirred me. But after putting on my glasses and focusing my senses on the present I realized that it was all part of the dream.
As I stood before the bathroom mirror and mentally shook off the lingering stupor, I came to realize how easy it would be to sleep one’s life away—just an endless supply of opium and surely time would pass wholly unnoticed.
“Wow,” I thought. No troubles, no struggle, just me and Madonna making love in dreamland.
“Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain, and most fools do.”
- Benjamin Franklin -
I wrote that ode ages ago, and I still feel very much the same for Ms. M, especially now that she is embroiled in this latest controversy over the adoption of a Malawian baby.
It really-truly perturbs me when things like this happen. For Madonna is doing more good for this child, whose two siblings died of Malaria; for the poor-poor and drought-ridden nation of Malawi, if not the entire impoverished and AIDS-ridden continent of Africa; for the practice of adoption itself; and for the ideals of family, love and parenting—than any prospective harm that any critic can lambaste her way. Sometimes making people aware is everything.
Granted, she was made an exception of the usual laws and by-laws of the state, but then again, she is truly exceptional. She was able to cut through the standard bureaucracy to achieve something positive.
I work for a Fortune 500 corporation and day-in and day-out I see, I witness, I know that it takes a certain amount of courage to make positive changes when everyone else is either set in their ways or to afraid to speak up, say their peace, or be perceived as “uncooperative.” Sometimes, it takes a rather brave and well-meaning individual to make a difference.
Madonna, I applaud you. Madonna, I love you. Maggie darling, please have my baby.
“So when you are kicked and criticized, remember that it is often done because it gives the kicker a feeling of importance. If often means that you are accomplishing something and are worthy of attention. Many people get a sense of savage satisfaction out of denouncing those who are better educated than they are or more successful.Schopenhauer had said it years ago” “Vulgar people take huge delight in the faults and follies of great men.”” – Dale Carnegie -