Surgery after surgery, pregnancy after pregnancy, welcome to the Grammys! You could be welcomed to the grannys as well; the rhyme and simile holds good (Inspired by Byron!). You know, the old tricky and picky grand-mother, the never satisfied nor eased, all-knowing and talented good old mother. Yes, you’ve seen her at the Oscars too, different name but the same event celebrating our great culture: staying young at heart and puerile at mind. Did you ever wonder why the great participants (here for a grander meaning I am forced to replace the mother with participants) are always crying at those events? Well, crying as opposed to laughing does not expose the many lines and wrinkles effected by the surgeries on one’s face. Furthermore it moisturizes the skin for a healthier, more virginal look. So, the productive film and music industry sells emotions not only on the set but in perpetual motion, mixed with fashion of course. Fashion is such a poetic word, although it sounds more like a medical instrument nowadays. Maybe the costumes are carved with the same instruments as some of the aforementioned surgeries! You get the point, it’s become a one-stop shop for those celebrities: they can buy a new dress from the same place they bought the nose a few years back. It’s all gear these days. Nevertheless it pairs well with the fertile decor backstage. But what’s happening backstage doesn’t always stay backstage, which means that some of the stars may come out expecting or at least radiating. I know, we - the cynical consumers - want to have it both ways, but it takes a Princess at heart to offer such accommodations, nay, only a Goddess can do it. It must be an American idol too, a melting pot Goddess, if possible. Yes, possible, said the American Genie, and presto, as a bonus of such advertisement you can even have a gilded one: Beyonce!
“Yes, we can” sounded one of the campaign promises of President Obama. Although it sounded more like propaganda back then, it is all true today! We must have changed a great deal along the way, or, if possible, the Genie must have constantly inspired us with the magic wand. “A change we can all believe in!" So provided such an Obamian, elusive philosophy where Goddesses may appear to be at times the Statue of Liberty, at times the Unicorn. Anyway, back on planet Earth, where gold is mold for Gods, Goddesses and Saints, we hold the Grammys annually, for happiness, and better TV ratings. Because the commercials can’t sell much, due to the expositional character of the show, the musicians must bring their music boxes with them, or rather on them. Some may bring the whole church’s inventory for the public’s maximum affectation. Still, only one star, the best of all, had the inspiration to bring Churches, Temples, and Mosques all at once in the show. More to say it was a literal “show” you know, in the sense of an expo. I fear that the word “expo” is not meaningful enough for the intentions of the Diva, so maybe, a Holy Parade will do better. And, if we mix fashion with passion, the result, after the initial starvation for a prolonged image of course, must in the end be salvation. Salvation, like everything sacred in our world, material or immaterial, comes with a price: you must be able to behold all that gold without any perversity of thought. In Beyonce’s case, it is hard for a man to resist the temptations of the mind or flesh. But that’s the trick: if one is abstinent, one gets to be the chosen one, here strictly meaning saved, not spared, as Jay-z was present in the audience to relax some of those hard feelings. Saved by the bell? asks the critic. No, saved by the message, you hypocrite, answers the mythology reader, or sanctified consumer in this case. Eh, either critic or consumer, the message is the same, and quite simple. What wasn’t simple was the whole purgatory of the ritual: the mundane dancing girls impersonated undulating apostles or faeries embracing their fumigating deity, while someone else’s children appeared in mass production mode from behind the screen. Once the chair appeared, which signifies stability of mind for normal people, the cherubs attended to the Diva’s corporeal stability. I knew the message rests probably on the seat and would therefore be minted on the Diva’s carcass near the back. It read just like the plain old bumper sticker, Coexist! To be honest, Joy Villa, with a lot less effort, posed as a newer bumper sticker; I hope it will soon become an artifact! After all this excitement, after Beyonce playing Jesus, Krishna, Lady Liberty, Oshun, Hara Ke, and other characters less indulgent in their permissiveness, all we could read was the plain Coexist message, but otherwise we felt a beneficial impulse to be fruitful and multiply as well. Perhaps it was a commandment, one that goes well with the now aroused spectators. Anyway, to be on the safe side Beyonce also exposed a muslim scarf in the end, still, the shape of the dress reminded us of the lost Arab Goddesses. Thanks, Donald, for the ban, we were about to experience mass protests otherwise. Then, if any risk of multiplying danger upon this provocation, wear your tight yoga pants for safety. Namaste!
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