Madonna is in Malawi with David Banda Ciccone-Richie, her new son. The one she adopted in spite of all the hullabaloo raised by people who forgot that she is an actual human being, people who seem to think that she is in fact a cartoon that does nothing but swing on LSD-induced rainbow chutes while quaffing champagne with Ali G.
They think the only thing that could motivate a woman to reach out and help a little boy is that she wants to use him as a fashion accessory. But that is a rant for another day. For this day, I am glad the story is back in the news because it gives me the opportunity to dig up this old link. From the wonderful folks at Cracked Magazine.
By the way, Do You Know Me? I am a TV star these days. I was at Record TV this morning getting interviewed for their breakfast show. During the process I managed to debunk a number of popular myths about television. As we say in my business, Presenting:
They don’t put you in make up. You don’t sit in a barber’s chair chitter-chattering while some nameless girl pads powder onto your face with a fluffy tool. That doesn’t happen.
It doesn’t add ten pounds. The show host, Tina Wamala, is in fact as small as she looks on TV. Well, with girls we say petite, not small.
A studio audience would have been nice: A mob to laugh on cue so that my jokes sound funnier. I hope the Record TV management looks into the possibility.
Back to Madonna. A band of plucky teens wearing orphanage uniforms threw stones at paparazzi who tried to invade the building while Madonna and young David were meeting the deadbeat loser –for the benefit of ed-slah, I shall add the word “bitch-ass” punk who was supposed to be his father before he decided to dump him in an orphanage and go looking for a new wife.
Wait. I promised never to make any judgements about the people involved in this case. So now that it is too late to do so, I take that back.