A few nights ago, Madonna was playing in Bucharest. First of all, I have no idea where in the hell that is or if it is even a real place. To me, it could be as fictional as Camelot or Krypton. Regardless, Madonna was on stage doing what she does best, making people hate her. During the middle of her performance she used her infinite wisdom and superiority to teach the crowd a lesson about the tolerance of gypsies. Again, following a similar theme, I have no idea what a gypsy is or what one does, but apparently the people of Bucharest hate them a don’t hesitate to remind Madonna that she’s a washed up pop singer with a poor man’s imitation British accent, and not Ghandi. Being hated more than Madonna has to be nearly impossible. When you can’t keep people in Bucharest from booing you, your career is over. I mean hell, there can’t be more than like three people in the crowd that speak English. Of those three, 1 might know more than one of her wretched songs. My hatred for her runs so deep that if tomorrow she were eaten alive by a pet bear in Bucharest, I would dedicate my life to the discrimination of gypsies and the prosperity of the great people of Bucharest.
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