2015 VMA Awards Exegesis

The Horror VMAs 2015

The horror, right? It was mostly non-stop horror, with the exception of Kanye West‘s comic turn.

Poor Kanye! He could talk forever and never make sense. That is his genius. I tired to explain to my husband why I don’t aim my wrath at Kanye instead of Taylor Swift, by explaining:”Because there’s something wrong with him.” It would be like taunting a special ed kid; I can’t do it.

The show’s most egregious figure was Taylor Swift, because that’s how much she annoys me. She wore herself out trying to prove that she’s best friends with everybody, leaning down to embrace everyone of importance, who all looked like midgets compared to the giraffe-like chanteuse.

Something was wrong with Taylor’s face that made her look Chinese. She had trouble smiling, as though her mouth was full of bigger teeth than her lips could accommodate. Whatever it is, keep it up, girl.

Moving along, Justin Bieber tried to sing and then cried with relief. Pharrell hopped around like a little sailor, and an awful girl named Tory Something shrieked her head off and strutted around like Beyonce-times-ten.

Miley Cyrus was aggressively obnoxious but still relatively sexy. Her tiny butt was the perfect antidote to Kim Kardashian and Nicki Minaj. The latter two women need to manage their asses, somehow, before they become separate entities and use up the world’s oxygen. Remember “The Blob?” Take this as a warning, people of Earth.

What else? Oh, a guy called The Weekend did an impression of a poor man’s Michael Jackson, and wore his hair in a style reminiscent of Woody Woodpecker. (Millennials, that’s a cartoon character.)

John Legend was handsome and charming as usual. Call me, John. You too, Jared Leto, you freak.

Miley Cyrus ended the show with a musical number that involved a fleet of trannies or whatever the word is, bringing a Sixties vibe to the fiasco with her Free Love/Smoke Pot message.

The best moment for me personally was during the Kanye monologue, when my friend Margaret suddenly exclaimed, “He’s gay!” in the exact tone of Archimedes shouting “Eureka!”

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10 Responses to 2015 VMA Awards Exegesis

  1. Erin says:

    Spot on.

  2. Romeo says:

    “Miley Cyrus was aggressively obnoxious but still relatively sexy.”

    Relative to what? One of those awful “dancing” air sock men? Seriously confused by your assessment here. Are you having a stroke?

  3. Marky says:

    He is.

  4. Dj says:

    Why. Why. Why. Does everyone at the vmas have to out vulgar each other? It is such an embarrassment , so oddly manic. Hideous clothes, faces, bodies…hotness? I don’t think so…horrible. I just loath this culture…….

  5. Andra says:

    Didn’t watch it, of course, but I found out everything I need to know from your commentary.
    Funny, funny, funny.
    Hope your B/day was wonderful.

  6. Dj says:


  7. David Duff says:

    I worry about that poor lady on the right. Are the shoe-laces she uses to support her buttresses of sufficient strength? I dread to think of the damage should they break and gravity takes over, her poor knees could be smashed. Of course, I am available to follow her everywhere in case of emergencies, you know, ready to make the catch, so to speak. Er, any chance of her telephone number …? Jest askin’.

  8. Pam says:

    For this and for everyone of your exegeses, thank you.

  9. David Duff says:

    Look, I’m not one to complain but can you please replace those mammoth tits above! Every morning I click on this distinguished site and they are the first thing I see and the resulting jolt through my system is not good for an elderly gentleman of 97 years – well, alright, not exactly that but some mornings it feels like it. Anyway my heartbeat gallops away, my blood pressure goes through the roof and the ‘Memsahib’ complains about me dribbling. Can’t you feature a photo of Donald Trump, that would bring me back to earth with a bump!

  10. Suspended says:

    We should just set fire to the building once we know they are all safely tucked inside. I’m terribly tired of their genuine lack of tangible magic.

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