Hi, Madonna? Can we speak with you for a second?

Hi, Madonna! How are you? Great! Listen, on behalf of gays everywhere, we need to have a word with you.

Haha! We can see your eyes glazing over, girl! Don't worry, we totally get it. "More gays." Don't tell anyone we said this, but sometimes we get bored with fags too. It's totally understandable. You probably feel like you've spent the last 20 years stuck on a gay cruise. Anyway, we can see your bodyguards getting a little antsy over there, so we'll try and make this brief.

It's like this, honey - can we call you honey? Oh. Okay. It's like this, um...Your...Highness. We...well, we're going to have cut you loose.

Ah! A raised eyebrow! You ARE listening! We couldn't quite tell. Good. Here's the thing. You went through that whole Desperately Seeking Sperm Donor thing ten years ago and we kind of scratched our heads a little, but okay. We were willing to cut you some slack. Not exactly what the gays were expecting from their DivaWhore, but you did the Evita thing and you wanted to do the mommy thing. Then you paid your hot latin trainer to be your baby daddy and you were right back to being the darlings of gays everywhere, each and every one of whom could totally get behind the idea of sperm donations from hot latin trainers.

Then you went and got all weirdly religious outta left field. At first we were like, "Oh she's totally putting everyone on! Wait till she makes a video where she makes out with a rabbi on the Wailing Wall!" Alas, it never happened. You were serious. It's a good thing Ray of Light was such a good dance song, girl, or we would have never been able to come to terms with your newfound Messiah-hood.

Then you went and got married. We were okay with it because your husband was hot but then you started speaking with an accent. Again, we were like "HAHA! She's gonna rip open her blouse and she'll have Union Jacks painted on her nipples! Just you wait!" Instead, you had another baby and started writing children's books. Girl, what the fuck. Considering your previous book had you in schoolgirl outfits licking Tony Ward's ass with Naomi, this seemed like quite a departure to us - and not a good one.


Do you see where we're going with this, girl? We, who have loved and supported and admired you from the earliest days, just don't know who you are anymore. We want to believe, Madonna. Really, we do. When you made that cheesetastic commercial for the Gap with Missy Elliot, we kept waiting for the ad to end with you two making out but instead you tried to rap and you saved your girlkiss for frikkin Britney Spears. Gross!

Then you fell off that horse and we just laughed. For months.

Anyway, point being, we've been there. Right from the beginning. And ever time you unveiled a new persona, we clapped our gay hands with glee and waited for your bush to make another appearance. With growing uneasiness, we realized that this latest persona, this Lady of the Manor bullshit, isn't actually a put-on anymore. You really believe this Imperial Girl crap.

And what was it that made us finally realize this? You ran off to Africa and BOUGHT A BABY, you stupid, shallow bitch. You can't just run off and buy an African baby. You just can't. Buying babies is gross and running off to Africa to have your picture taken among the Grateful Brown People is even more gross - not to mention (and this is the worst sin of all as far as we're concerned), it's been done already. What the fuck? OUR GIRL is ripping off frikking Angelina Jolie? Madonna rips off Marlene Dietrich, Martha Graham, and hispanic drag queens. She does NOT rip off two-bit collagen-infused actresses.

Like everything you've done for the last quarter century, it's all for the cameras. All to sell your latest image. When your latest image was "Marilyn's ghost," or "German prostitute," or "bondage queen," we clapped and laughed and danced to your boldness, but when your latest image becomes "Entitled Imperialist Bitch," and you pose your perfectly color-coordinated children into a living Benetton ad, well, this is where we get off. Posing for Steven Meisel in a peekaboo nightie with a teddy bear prop? Fabulous. Dragging your multi-racial children (one of whom still has his price tag attached) in front of the cameras to prove to the world that you are loving and caring? Gross.

Okay, we can see your security detail heading this way, so we'll be going now. Thanks for the voguing, Express Yourself, the AIDS charity work and the Sex book. Oh, and don't be afraid to put on a little weight, girl! Two percent body fat at 50 is not a pretty thing. Just a last bit of advice from us.

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